Solam had few balors under his command, but the frost giants did not have many frost mages either! So after going back and forth, they were evenly matched. Moreover, this was the Sixth Pyre, a balor's natural battlefield. The lava and scorching heat here greatly empowered balors, while frost giants were thoroughly restrained by the very same conditions.
All things considered, the frost giants were at an absolute disadvantage.
That was why, although Solam's side was comparatively weak, they still held the upper hand firmly. Demons had a common flaw in war: they either suffered a crushing defeat or won a crushing victory.
If they fell behind, a demon's vile nature would quickly throw them into chaos. They would either flee, fight desperately with everything they had, or even attack their own allies—nothing could be more normal. But once they gained the upper hand, every demon became incomparably brave.
Every demon knew that having the advantage meant they had a very good chance of winning. In the Abyss, victory represented many things, and its final result was often a massacre. Every demon loved slaughter, because it not only satisfied their bloodlust but also increased their strength.
Practically every demon rushed toward such an opportunity.
Thus, as the battle wore on, Solam's side not only did not collapse, but fought more and more smoothly. Quite a few demons even bravely launched countercharges. In Solam's eyes, though, that was utterly idiotic!
Wasn't it better to fight from high above on the city walls? It was safer and more effective. Why charge out? Were they rushing out there to die?
Solam had not guessed wrong. Those idiots really were going out to die. It was not intentional; they had simply gotten too caught up in the fighting and forgotten the gap in strength