The Orc warriors blocking the Marine Armor's advance were picked off by Dragon-Hunting Rifles. Those who scattered to the sides and stayed out of the Mecha Legion's path were lucky enough to keep their lives. They were simply ignored.
In the sky, four people and one dragon—five Calamity Rank fighters—watched the battle below, unable to hide their shock.
From the moment the Marine Armor Legion launched its full-speed assault, it had crushed the Centaur army, frightened off the human heavy cavalry, and routed two Orc armies. Its own losses were almost negligible.
Most astonishing was the smooth, high-speed advance. It had not slowed from beginning to end.
Then came the inspired fire support from the fortress's giant cannons. Together, they made the long flanking thrust a sight to behold.
This was no longer a mere battle. It had reached the level of art.
A white colt flashing past a crack in the wall; an antelope hanging its horns from a branch to leave no trace. Perhaps this was what those images meant.
The Troll Lord, the Undead Calamity, and the others had never seen tactics so precise they seemed like meshing gears. And those iron cans they had initially dismissed as a stunt had proved to be breathtaking weapons of war.
Now they understood completely why the Undead Empire had dared to meet them head-on with less than a third of their forces. With troops this formidable, it had a sharp blade to drive into the enemy's heart.
As the Marine Armor Legion swept around the flank, the Undead Empire's troops charged out of their defensive positions, seizing the enemy's confusion to rush the Northern Allied Forces.
In truth, General James had never intended to fight a positional battle from behind the sturdy defensive line.
He had stayed behind it