Zinov leads his twenty thousand soldiers toward Varestand City, the rhythmic march of boots echoing across the plains. As he floats above the advancing army, his sharp eyes scan the city ahead. To his surprise, no formidable defense awaits—only a handful of guards, most appearing to be mere Tier 1 warriors.
Hovering in the air, Zinov furrows his brow, his thoughts turning inward.
"Is this all they have left to defend this city?" he muses aloud. "Have they truly committed all their forces to Crass City?"
He strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Their intelligence network has always been surprisingly adept," he continues, his voice tinged with suspicion. "They seem to anticipate our every move. Could this be another one of their ploys?"
Zinov's gaze hardens as he surveys the seemingly vulnerable city. He knows better than to underestimate his adversaries.
