In other words, even if all three thousand men truly fighting them were wiped out, they were not the young, able-bodied soldiers of his homeland—the people from his own native land who had died.
They were locals from the Central Lands.
"Looks like the map of the Central Lands is about to change again—and this will be a prolonged battle."
"Right. Keep strengthening the defenses. Hold the line to the death, with layer upon layer of interception. On every trench, underground passage, and defensive line, no retreat unless casualties exceed thirty percent."
"We now have reinforcements from the entire Central Lands. So far it's only the western forces—the eastern forces, the Church's forces, and those from south of the Mediterranean are all on their way."
"How much money do they even have left?"
"Is there really an economy in this world that gets better the longer a war is fought?"
Mikhail did not dare think about it, nor did he want to.
The temptation of becoming vampires seemed to be the Devil Race's guidance, and there was no turning back for them.
Yet they still had to resist. At the same time, they were searching for clues, and they had also uncovered some baffling things.
Why had the Devil Race and humanity been mortal enemies for fifty thousand years—perhaps even longer?
Every time they recovered their strength, whether it was humanity in the open or the Devil Race in the shadows, they would both do everything in their power to kill the other.
The Empire and the Church joined forces in action.
Those Kings, on the other hand, sat on the fence, yet the emperors of the Empire truly would throw everything into their campaigns of extermination.
And among humanity, only the first few generations of emperors were ever normal.