As time passed, large numbers of Noble Allied Army soldiers broke down and fled desperately to the rear.
Without exception, they all fell at the hands of the troops supervising the battle.
After an unknown amount of time, the first organized Noble Allied Army unit began to retreat in rout.
"Time to wrap this up."
Watching the enemy's first Noble Banner turn around, Greg spoke in a low voice.
The next moment, he issued orders for the troops on both flanks to advance, circle around from both sides, and pincer the enemy.
On the Noble Allied Army's command platform, Marquis Saloto stared fixedly at the troops retreating toward the rear, his heart full of murderous intent.
I haven't even run yet, and you're already fleeing?
In the instant he was stunned, the defeat spread like a landslide. Large numbers of guards from the noble commanders' headquarters scrambled to retreat to the rear.
On the front lines, the soldiers locked in a bloody battle saw their allies withdrawing behind them. Their morale instantly collapsed, and they turned to flee backward.
In less than half an hour, the Noble Allied Army went from barely holding the line to suffering a complete rout.
"Father, we should leave."
Marquis Saloto showed no reaction to the young man's words. Staring at the chaotic battlefield, he muttered to himself, "Why did this happen? Why did this happen?"
Seeing that his father seemed frightened senseless, the young man no longer hesitated. He directly hoisted his father onto his back and headed for the warhorse that had long been prepared.
At this moment, the routed troops had only just begun crashing into the central formation. There was still time.
If they did not seize this chance to withdraw, they would likely be caught up in it before long.