Chapter 165. The March

Valtorian flags rippled violently in the hot afternoon breeze as the ground rumbled beneath the feet of over a thousand soldiers. Their silver armor and the blades gleamed as the rays of the sun swept over them, clouds white as snow hanging above as if the gods themselves were guiding their path to destiny.

The storm of soldiers marched toward the gates of the Hidden Path, their weapons clean as new but soon to be stained by the blood of their enemies. Desmond and Alethea rode on horses in front of the army, leading them with the help of the six Haunters, three on each of their sides.

Alethea maintained a cold expression. Her golden armor glistened in the sunlight like it had been polished with honey, her hair was gathered into a ponytail, and her cheeks were marked with two black strokes—a wordless message to her enemies, telling of her urge to let loose and spill blood.

Desmond’s face was concealed beneath his black helmet, but his ocean eyes shimmered through a