Within a quarter of an hour, all the Plague Knights had been slaughtered.
Half an hour later, the countless kobolds scattered across the mountains and plains finished looting. Excitedly pushing carts, they took away everything that glittered, everything hard, or anything they could scrape even a little iron filings from.
They tossed the remains of the Great Group Lords into charcoal fire and threw the spoils into the furnaces. Amid fanatical hymns of praise, the firelight illuminated countless eyes, casting a red glow over the kobolds' black fur.
An hour later, the Solar Ship thundered away into the distance, and the ruins returned to deathly silence.
An hour and a half later, the sky shattered, and countless black dots descended from above. A desolate storm blew in from afar, carrying the lingering wails of Hell and the mockery of those who had departed.
This time, no one dared slack off or lower their guard.
They advanced with utmost caution.
Hell's legions remained one hundred and twenty thousand percent vigilant, always prepared for an attack from the Solar Ship. The radiance of immense rituals blanketed both heaven and earth.
Yet even after two hours, there was not the slightest sign or trace of anything.
Amid the howling wind in the distance, the two legion rulers stared at each other, their faces dark and grim... yet unable to conceal the unconscious relief and good fortune they felt.
Perhaps, maybe, possibly... those Current Realm people had really left... right?
"They left?"
Above the altar, a magnificent yet sinister hall appeared in the enormous bronze mirror, along with the strange figure draped in gauze upon the throne.
He looked down at his subordinates prostrate beneath the steps.
His expression was as though two bags of non-recyclable trash had suddenly fallen in front of him,