The Advance Force - Part 3

By the front, Oliver took his men, intent on giving them everything he had in a single move. The strongest charge that they could deliver at once. He eyed down the shield wielders. He'd seen enough of them in General Khan's army. Though the weight of their equipment made them difficult to move, they were no more intimidating than other men once one got used to them.

His right arm throbbed, but he merely used that pain to heighten his focus. He'd run through a single slash nearly a hundred times in his head. A left-armed blow. It was difficult to dispel the doubts of how effective it would be, but it hardly mattered now. Another few paces, and he'd be feeling Verna breath on his face. He committed to his sprint, putting even more into it, and racing even faster, deciding that even if his arms lacked their usual might, he could make up for it with his legs.

Verdant stayed just a step behind. Firyr wasn't too far behind either. He took reassurance from that.