If the Expeditionary Corps beneath Augsburg had been sweeping through enemy ranks, then the fighting on the Warhammer Great Plains was an artistic display of breaking the enemy apart piece by piece.
They used the cavalry's high mobility to gain an advantage on local battlefields, turning small victories into great ones and gradually seizing the strategic initiative.
Besides its main force of over a hundred thousand troops, the Ancient Remnants Alliance still had a Southern Expeditionary Army. It had not yet reached the end of its rope.
But distant water could not quench immediate thirst. The war on the Warhammer Great Plains had already been turned around. The humans, who had once been routed for miles, were now pushing back.
This strategic reversal greatly boosted the fighting spirit of the Northern Continent's nations. Yet before everyone could finish celebrating, bad news followed close behind.
Perhaps the reports from the front had provoked the Elves. Driven to fury, the Elf army launched its fiercest offensive yet.
The Duchy of Usta and the Duchy of Fick, the unlucky targets of the Elves' wrath, were destroyed on the same day. For a time, the entire Northern Continent fell silent.
Even Hudson, upon seeing the battle report, could only blurt out, "Holy shit!"
The battle had been fucking brutal. The Elves were simply bullying their enemies. In a single day, the Elf Mage Corps had cast fifteen Forbidden Spells on the battlefield.
Countless defenders of the Duchy of Usta and the Duchy of Fick had not even known what had happened before they were sent straight to meet the Lord of Dawn.
Forbidden Spells had become wholesale goods. Fights at this level had previously appeared only when two major races were battling for supremacy.
After a brief daze, Hudson quickly recovered. The minimum requirement