It was hard to tell who was winning or losing in the middle of a battle. By the time people realized what was happening, the outcome was usually already decided.
As the area around us opened up, I realized that the Noxian army had advanced quite a bit. Though the Ionian coalition forces were still struggling to hold their ground in local skirmishes, the tide of battle could no longer be turned.
At this rate, it wouldn't be long before this place fell. Prexian was crucial to the war as a whole!
The region had gathered the most capable and extraordinary people from across the continent. If we lost, we would never be able to organize a decent fighting force again. The regions beyond would surrender without a fight, just like the west. So the coalition forces fought desperately, hoping Noxus would realize the cost and withdraw.
Swain had spent years laying the groundwork. He wasn't going to give up so easily.
Sion was tied up with me for now, but Noxus had plenty of skilled and battle-hardened generals. Any one of them was a hero-level fighter.
Before the battle, we had agreed that if the gap in strength was too great, we would preserve our forces. This was especially important for the many small sects, who had sent every member to join the war. If they fought to the bitter end, the entire sect could be wiped out, causing their tradition to disappear. Such a loss would be immeasurable.
Take the Wind Sword Sect, for example. After Riven's attack, I was the only one left. If I died here too, the Wind Sword Sect would vanish for good.
The coalition forces were fighting so desperately now that being left with no way to retreat would be devastating for these