The evil ghost knights, like thunderbolts crashing down from the heavens, charged about for a while before retreating into the castle. That seemingly tiny castle was once more wrapped tightly in layer upon layer of magical barriers. Several mid-rank demons stood atop the walls, howling abuse and taunts toward Arthur's command post, but where did Arthur have the time to bother with them?
The two elite legions had been thrown into complete disarray by those newly recruited soldiers. The dead and wounded soldiers were one thing; after that charge by the evil ghost knights, no more than seven or eight thousand had been killed, while only a few hundred had been injured. The army's casualties were nothing much, but the soldiers all mixed together had created an enormous headache for Arthur.
If the Snow Birch and Cedar Legions were two finely operating millstones, then the routed recruits who had crashed into their formations were a jumble of sand and stones. Once these people mixed into the ranks, elites who had originally possessed ten-tenths of their combat power would be left with less than three-tenths of their strength.
Arthur roared furiously and ordered the Punishment Knights to rush out of the castle and restore order, driving those damned recruits out of his elite legions' ranks. But with hundreds of thousands of people mixed together, unless an actual god descended into the world, how could ordinary people possibly sort out their formations in such a short time?
Without at least half a day, there was no hope of restoring these utterly chaotic troops to normal.
Yet the abyssal creatures' reinforcements were less than an hour away. From dozens of miles off, several abyssal wyverns could already be seen flying high through the sky. Sturdy evil ghost warriors rode upon their backs, holding