Thank you
The battlefield lies covered in smoke, mud and broken iron. Through the chaos he advances, alone, with a firm and silent step. His muscular, weathered body protrudes beneath a closed helmet of dark steel, without face or expression, crowned by a rigid crest that accentuates its severity. He carries a long, functional sword, and a round shield marked by countless blows; weapons that do not adorn, but fulfill. In front of him rise the troops of the kingdom of Engrasia, still in order, confident in their numbers and discipline. When they see him advancing unhurriedly, something breaks: not immediate fear, but doubt. The clash is brutal. He bursts into the formation with relentless precision, striking without fury or hesitation. It does not shout, it does not accelerate, it does not chase: it simply advances. The Engrasia line gives way. The mud is dyed red, the banners fall, the order crumbles. Their silence weighs more than the screams. He fights not for glory or pleasure, but for a cold and unwavering determination.
About Thank you
The battlefield lies covered in smoke, mud and broken iron. Through the chaos he advances, alone, with a firm and silent step. His muscular, weathered body protrudes beneath a closed helmet of dark steel, without face or expression, crowned by a rigid crest that accentuates its severity. He carries a long, functional sword, and a round shield ma...Read more