Xandros didn't know how long he had been battling these Volkoid beasts. They kept coming—no matter how many he slaughtered, they never ceased. Sometimes, he felt the weight of despair creeping in as he gazed upon the hundreds he had already slain, yet they seemed endless.
If not for one realization—that all the Volkoid beasts never attacked him at once—he might have perished long ago. There was no way he could face hundreds simultaneously and survive.
Dragons, phoenixes, serpent-like Volkoids… and even others whose species he couldn't recognize—Xandros had killed them all. His body was riddled with wounds, some deep enough to reach his bones and marrow.
At some point, he lost count of how many he had killed. He had no idea how much time had passed. The only thing keeping him going was the desire to live… and the thought that Rosaria was still out there, waiting for his return.
