Throughout this constant entanglement and attrition, the Goblin General's expression grew increasingly grim.
This was no longer a simple contest of physical strength. It was also a battle of wits and resolve!
After all, judging from the situation before them, neither side could guarantee that they would be the one laughing last.
As the more quick-witted goblin, the situation before him was undoubtedly torture for the Goblin General. All kinds of thoughts flashed through his mind without pause, yet he remained unable to make a decision, completely caught in the middle and torn in every direction.
At that very moment, Fisher was just as conflicted.
In theory, he did not actually need to come along for this operation. Vajra Realm experts were high-end combat power and needed to conserve their strength for the green-skinned powerhouses who could charge in at any time afterward.
In a clash between experts of this level, even the tiniest difference could become the key to victory.
For that reason, before the real battle began, they all needed to ensure as much as possible that they were in peak condition.
But he simply could not bring himself to abandon the thousand cavalry under his command.
Compared with his identities as a councilor, a party leader, or even a member of the Smith Royal Family, Fisher identified more strongly with—or perhaps cherished more dearly—his identity as a Great General, because he had fought his way to it with his own blade and spear.
Through his own strength, he had made himself a powerful minister who held military authority! This was an identity he took pride in!
And as a Great General, those thousand cavalry were his treasures. How could he possibly feel at ease leaving them behind?
However, judging from the current situation, even if he had