Spear Water Style.
The technique Delilah had been practicing for weeks under Roof Von Schlieffen would now be tested in the chaos of battle.
Below her, the forest had turned into an inferno of violence.
The Thralls were already in the fray, their glassy-eyed obedience carrying them straight into the heart of the Iron Hearts' forces.
They leapt onto the backs of shouting soldiers, stabbing with crude weapons or twisting necks with a mechanical efficiency.
Death rained from above, black-deaths continued to fall from the traps.
Death rose from below, as hidden pits swallowed men whole.
It was a living nightmare.
Delilah crouched on a high branch, her knuckles white as she gripped her spear.
The sounds of screaming and steel clashing filled the air, the stench of blood and burnt flesh choking her senses. She forced herself to look down but immediately regretted it.