The battle to encircle and annihilate the remaining Sauron forces had not yet completely ended. Across this vast, blood-soaked battlefield, scattered, desperate resistance still continued. Some surrounded Sauron elites, along with diehards unwilling to surrender, still relied on the terrain or the corpses of their comrades to make their final, futile struggle. Sporadic gunfire and the clash of weapons continued to rise and fall from every corner of the battlefield.
But the overall outcome had already been decided.
Once Harald's identity had been confirmed, his body was immediately treated as the most important trophy. Wrapped in a relatively clean flag, it was carried by several soldiers and swiftly sent to the temporary frontline command post.
When the body clad in gilded armor was laid upon a relatively level patch of ground, the surrounding officers and soldiers gathered around. Their gazes, filled with a tangled mix of curiosity, awe, and disbelief, fixed upon the body that had once represented the highest authority in the Northern Territory.
Lyon happened to be inspecting the area. He swung down from his horse, strode over to the body, and crouched beside it to carefully examine the exquisitely crafted gilded armor. Even stained with blood and mud, it still gave off a faint gleam. He ran his fingers over its intricate patterns and embedded gemstones, his brow tightly furrowed.
"This armor... the craftsmanship is extraordinary. It's certainly not something an ordinary general could possess." Lyon rose to his feet and addressed the officers around him. "Judging by its specifications, this was at least someone at Corps Commander level. But which corps was he from? Svein? Asgeir? Or that missing Domenic?"
He was not familiar with Harald himself and had never seen the Sauron King's true face. Though he already had his suspicions, the matter was too