On the ashen ground before the Gate of Divinity, the Five-Party Alliance's army surged forward like a tide.
The exquisite smile on Miquella's face froze.
Leda recoiled in shock, holding her sword across Miquella protectively as she stared in disbelief at the warriors charging toward them with bloodshot eyes. "Damn it, how did these bastards find this place?!"
But Miquella had no time to get to the bottom of it.
He possessed the power of enchantment, and he was confident he could charm anyone here into serving him. But there were simply too many soldiers pouring toward him. He could charm ten, a hundred, yet thousands more would remain. It would be a drop in the ocean.
Besides, he faced not just thousands of soldiers, but thousands of mounts as well.
He even saw his father Radagon's beloved Red Wolf charging toward him with bared fangs, a first-generation Albinauric riding on its back with a bow drawn.
Miquella was dazed.
How had Tarnished, an utterly ordinary Tarnished, managed to assemble an army of this size?
Humans, Demi-Humans, Trolls, Albinaurics, Crucible Knights, and even his father's Red Wolf-how had these races, which should have been hostile to one another, gathered together and joined forces?
They were supposed to hate each other!
Had Tarnished established a new faith? One more perfect and pure than the Golden Order?
If Tarnished had known what Miquella was wondering at that moment, he would have scoffed.
Faith? What the hell was that good for?
He had united people from different factions and races with just one simple promise:
Free room and board!
For centuries in the Lands Between, ordinary people had lived the humblest lives, yet were expected to possess the loftiest virtues. As though drinking bland, unsalted soup, eating bitter wild vegetables, and living in