Three Years of Fierce War

"What the hell are these things?"

An equally furious voice rang out over the sea.

Gromar was utterly numb. In the past few months, the Sacred Co-Prosperity Kingdom had shocked him more times than in his entire previous life.

Tens of thousands of thunderbirds, griffin legions, over a hundred thousand Magic Pattern Warriors—those were still within the normal military structure of the human race.

But what the hell were more than twenty thousand Dark Angel demons?

And an elite legion of nearly five thousand giants of middle- and high-grade bloodlines, all equipped with at least Master-grade magic equipment.

Those alone were enough to give him a headache, yet before he could think of a solution, another group of cockroaches that simply would not die had appeared in today's battle.

Fortunately, their numbers were limited. Otherwise, he would already be thinking about retreating.

"Your Majesty, according to the information provided by the Great Prophet, these should be an elite troop type within the Church of Dawn—the Zealots!"

At that moment, Draman, the foxkin High Priestess standing beside him, replied with apprehension.

"Zealots?"

"Yes."

After nodding, Draman continued.

"According to the records, the Church of Dawn's selection criteria for the Zealot Legion do not consider strength or potential. They only look at one's devotion to the Lord of Dawn."

"Only those willing to dedicate everything to the Lord of Dawn are qualified to join."

"Such devout faith means that nearly every Zealot in the Zealot Legion can draw upon the Lord of Dawn's power to strengthen themselves."

"The more devout their faith, the greater the power they can borrow."

"So they are drawing upon divine power."

Gromar looked at the battle atop the city walls with deep wariness.

"Your Majesty, although the Zealots are powerful, their numbers are too small. There are