A field of routed soldiers. New···..m
The previous battle seemed to end in an instant. Brando had barely lifted a finger. He simply used his Space Element to force the knights behind the guards to remain in place, while Huang Huo stepped in and dealt with the frail commoners one by one.
Instaron and Tagus merely taught a lesson to a few fools who had crossed the line. By the time they sheathed their swords, all that remained on the ground was a heap of town guards clutching their broken teeth.
What left Rosalin's knights at a loss was that they were still pinned to the street by an invisible force. They could not lift a foot or even move a finger, and could only watch helplessly as their subordinates were beaten senseless.
They were like puppets, pinned to the street entrance along with their wyverns and lined up in a row, as though they were distinguished spectators invited to cheer for the guards rolling around in pain. Apart from watching, they could probably only shout a few words.
They just had not yet figured out what to say before this one-sided battle had already come to an end.
The knights did not understand where this ghostly force that had locked them down had come from, but that did not stop them from using their brains to guess who was behind it.
Aside from a few people—
For example, the short, dark-skinned knight who was still shouting that he would let that bumpkin Brando see what a truly grand occasion looked like. He probably still stubbornly believed that Brando was one of those lone wanderers drifting across the wilderness, someone who had never seen the power created by humans organizing themselves through order and nations.
Instaron almost felt sorry for