Crack! Silver light flashed. The iron sword snapped and fell, and neither armor nor helmet could stop the blow. The flesh encased within them split in two and crashed to the ground.
The appearance of the purplish-red fog severely impaired visibility, reducing it to barely six meters. Beyond that distance, faces became indistinguishable, leaving only blurred outlines.
Within the thick fog's dreamlike, bewildering colors, not only did Kanni and Ma Linya slow their attacks, but the cavalry also found fighting far more difficult. Arrows vanished into the mist. No archer fired another shot for fear of hitting an ally; they all drew melee weapons, switching from ranged support to close combat.
The purplish-red fog slowed the overall pace of the battle for Sand City considerably, yet it also made each individual clash much more brutal.
Imagine what it meant when you could see only six meters around you.
It meant there was no retreat. The familiar sense of distance became strangely distorted. Knights and soldiers accustomed to fighting beneath bright sunlight felt a peculiar tension in this environment, something far more unsettling than poor visibility in darkness. Uncertainty over the indistinct shapes in the fog, fear of being unable to tell friend from foe, anxiety over the mist's refusal to disperse-all these sensations compounded into something truly unbearable.
Under these pressures, the knights and soldiers clashed blades faster and harder. An unspoken atmosphere enveloped the battlefield, driving everyone to hold nothing back. Thoughts of retreat and hope alike vanished from their hearts. Everything seemed to gather in the weapons they held, and the bloody mist scattered by each swing became the surest comfort their souls could find.
This was a sacrifice to the final curtain.
Ma Linya was indeed skilled, with excellent swordsmanship and deft footwork. To an observer, she