Every passing second in the western region of the Ultras Continent carried enormous weight…
Ultras forces had been strategically deployed throughout the western zone—chosen to host the final phase of the Witch's Game.
Players had taken their positions, awaiting the signal.
From the east, Godfrey's army was slowly advancing toward their objective.
But strangely enough, neither Godfrey himself nor his Empyrean, Gvardiol, were seen among the troops.
From the south, a different army marched.
A terrifying force of a thousand elite warriors from the High Blood—many of them Rank S, armed to the teeth with deadly gear.
They were the Southern hammer of Ultras, commanded by none other than Mergo's closest follower…
Lawrence.
A wild beast in the body of a manchild .. hardly suitable for command.
No one in the Ultras army knew how to deal with him. So, they chose to follow from a distance, careful not to provoke him. After all, the only one who ever tamed that monster… was Mergo.
