The battle at Kraba Market had ended. More than a thousand Gray Wolf Army soldiers had all laid down their weapons, clasped their hands over their heads, and walked out of their shelters.
They were filthy and dejected, most bearing wounds that had yet to scab over. There was not a shred of light in their dust-covered eyes.
If they had lost to The Alliance, they might have felt somewhat better. But looking at these militiamen, who could not even scrape together a complete set of clothes, all that remained in their hearts was humiliation.
Those militiamen had driven them from the northern side of Kraba Market to the east, lining them up at the market entrance.
The survivors watching from afar all wore the same look of disbelief.
"...His Majesty's army actually lost."
"Those were the invincible Gray Wolves..."
"And they actually lost to the Moon Tribe people."
In truth, it was not just the Moon Tribe people.
It was simply that the slaves in the Lowell Camp were mostly Moon Tribe people, so this militia force naturally consisted mostly of them as well.
Devout believers stared blankly in the direction of Kraba Market, their lips murmuring.
"Sun-Bearing Divine Ox above."
The skies might truly be changing this time...
Watching the militiaman approach, Commander Satish's face turned ashen. After struggling with himself several times, he finally handed over his sidearm.
The radio had already been seized. There was no point in continuing to resist.
Yet to his surprise, after taking his sidearm, the bare-armed man removed the magazine and tossed the gun back to him.
"Run east."
Satish froze.
"Wha—"
He had just opened his mouth to ask what that meant when the man fired a shot at the ground in front of his boots without another word. The