Since he could not find Blackmoore, he would finish the battle here first, then settle the score with him.
Rhode summoned a Mage Hand, curled it into the shape of a megaphone, and held it to his mouth. Then he shouted across the battlefield, "Warriors of Durnholde Keep! Your lord has fled in secret! While you were still fighting bravely, he deserted you! Ask yourselves-is a lord like that worth dying for?!"
His voice was loud, and the terrain was open. Before long, it had reached every corner of the camp.
Often, a voice like that was more effective than an army of thousands.
Faced with cavalry galloping through the darkness, blood-crazed Ogre warriors as savage as demons, powerful musket rounds flying from who knew where, and even fireballs and arcane golems they had no idea how to counter, the soldiers of Durnholde Keep had already reached their breaking point.
Now, with the news that Blackmoore had been the first to flee, their morale suffered another crushing blow. Their will to fight vanished in an instant, and most chose to kneel and surrender.
Only a handful of his diehard personal guards continued fighting Rhode's army to the death. They were soon slaughtered on the blood-soaked battlefield.
Dawn was approaching, and the battle was over.
Rhode stood facing the rising sun, his hands clasped behind his back.
The soldiers were clearing the battlefield.
The battle had effectively wiped out Durnholde Keep's entire four-thousand-strong army, with five hundred of them taken prisoner. Rhode's side had lost only a few soldiers. It was a resounding victory.
Lilia stood beside him, her face full of admiration.
"Rhode, Rhode, that was such a beautiful victory! You're amazing," Lilia said.
"That's why you need to read more. Read enough books, and you'll learn how to fight