A Trap? (Continued)

Although the Black Faction had possibly lost only one person while the Red Faction had truly lost two combatants, within these Hanging Gardens, even escaping was difficult for them.

The Black Lancer, who wielded his spear against the Red Lancer, had already lost the elegance, splendor, and ferocity he usually maintained. The only thing sustaining his continued battle now was the dignity of a hero.

That alone gave him the strength to fight.

But under these circumstances, taking the Red Lancer's head was practically impossible.

The moment the Black Lancer's fighting spirit, born from his heroic dignity, weakened even slightly, the end would come crashing down upon him like an avalanche.

But that would not do.

At the very least, he had to cover the rest of the Black Faction as they withdrew from these Hanging Gardens—

In an instant, Vlad the Impaler III made his decision. He could not retreat. He absolutely could not retreat.

Retreating now would deal far too great a blow to the Black Faction's morale. As their commander, he alone could not withdraw. Besides, he had not lost yet. He could still take a gamble.

Even if he had lost much of his strength, they still had fighters like Heracles and Siegfried.

Launching an assault now might not necessarily fail.

Achilles let out a scornful laugh. "You actually think you still have a chance of winning? Are you still struggling in vain?"

Karna could not help but look at Achilles in surprise, watching him mock the Black Faction's Servants as though he had forgotten his medicine. But he said nothing. This was not the time to say anything.

There was nothing wrong with mockery.

Arrows sliced through the gale, tracing several arcs.

—It was Heracles. He could no longer hold himself back.

"You think you've