The Defeat Came Like a Collapsing Mountain

Wherever the Crimson Gryphon Knights passed, no one could stand against them. The enemy scattered and fled as swiftly as snow melted beneath red-hot iron rods.

Even the Temple infantry, who were undisputedly elite across the entire continent, could no longer muster the slightest will to resist.

"Hold on! Hold on! Hold on!" Pope Rossa shouted loudly. His aged voice echoed through the air, but only within this narrow corner of the world.

When defeat came, it swept everything away like a collapsing mountain. Even a god descended to the mortal realm could not stop the tide of total defeat. He had considerable influence over the Temple infantry forming the central army, yet even so, he had still failed to prevent this from happening.

As for the left wing, they had already fled with their tails between their legs. Without the slightest hesitation, they abandoned Pope Rossa and the soldiers trapped in combat on the front line.

The various noble lords and kings hurriedly left the battlefield with their loyal retainers, abandoning this killing ground filled with death—the place where their strength had been buried.

They had lost. Everything was in chaos. It was all over. The kings were heartbroken, each one suffering as though his heart had been cut apart.

Cutting their losses in time was already the best option. They could not allow themselves to die here as well.

"Well done!" Count Jorral had just joined up with Count Puston's army when the pressure suddenly eased. Realizing with delight that the enemy had collapsed, he let out a hearty cheer.

"Charge, boys! Wipe out those damned vermin! Twist their necks like you're slaughtering chickens! Go, go! Everything you take is yours!"

Count Jorral no longer held back in the slightest. After ordering the entire army to pursue the