The dozen cavalrymen, in unison, turned smoothly and precisely, a testament to their status as the elite of the elite.
Time seemed to freeze in that moment, where not being able to breathe felt inconsequential.
The ghost squad remained motionless, and the sea race warriors didn't dare even blink.
In this bizarre standoff, their hearts pounded wildly, threatening to leap out of their chests.
Stanbeck's eyelids twitched as he noticed several sea race members trembling.
He almost hissed through clenched teeth, "Don't—move—"
Immediately after, the commander of the Ambition Army, without a moment's hesitation, spurred his horse forward.
The steed's hooves pounded the ground as it charged straight ahead, followed closely by the dozen cavalrymen.
Though merely ghosts, the sound of their galloping hooves was like thunder, their killing aura tangible, exuding the momentum of a vast army.