Britain's voluntary submission left the fleets lingering on the outskirts with no choice but to disperse reluctantly.
It was not that there were no stubborn hardliners among them, but this was the weakness of a combined fleet. Once they lost their common enemy, comrades who had been getting along so well became wary rivals in the blink of an eye.
Moreover, because of their formation, anyone who made an unusual move would immediately find themselves at a disadvantage, surrounded.
And so, this massive operation ended without a sound.
The outcome was so inconceivable that the higher-ups who knew the truth dared not call it a battle, nor openly expose their own countries' involvement. They could only refer to it obliquely with the delicate designation of "the fall of the Dover Strait."
One man had single-handedly crushed the entire allied force, and had even been able to control the casualty rate.
This dramatic development was enough to leave anyone of sound mind trembling with fear.
This was already beyond the level of an adult beating a child, or someone crushing ants.
Although those examples also involved enormous disparities in strength, once the numbers reached a certain point, it would be difficult to control one's strength while avoiding injury.
Yet Roland, despite being capable of annihilating them all, had used unparalleled skill to carve out a perfectly measured gulf of despair.
Rather than inspiring awe, such a feat was bewildering.
That distance, like someone overlooking every piece from outside the chessboard, was beyond even their aspirations, making it difficult to understand the intentions and thoughts of this rumored Great Red Dragon.
Even knowing that everyone involved in this incident was an elite whose loyalty and strength were beyond reproach, the higher-ups had still found themselves making this remark when they first saw