The skies above the battlefield had turned a murky grey, clouded by smoke, ash, and the metallic scent of blood. Fires raged in the distance, and arrows fell like rain from both ends.
Aamir and Seenu jumped into the battlefield, their units charging behind them like unleashed wolves.
The earth trembled under the weight of hundreds of warriors. The sound of war rang in their ears—steel clashing, men shouting, spells flashing.
But amidst the chaos, the two friends moved like lightning through a storm, cutting down foes with the precision of seasoned predators. Their bond made them unstoppable—brothers not by blood, but by battle.
"LET'S RIP THROUGH THEM!" Seenu roared, his voice igniting the spirits of the soldiers behind him.
Navarra soldiers fell like dry leaves in autumn, unable to withstand the fury of Aryavrat's elites.
Seenu's flames erupted in wide arcs, incinerating armor, weapons, and hope. Fire danced along his blade like a living beast hungry for vengeance.
