This was a war, and it was the first war Solan had ever experienced.
Unlike past battles where both sides would set up their formations and release skills, each enemy that fell in front was immediately replaced by new ones, their numbers seemingly endless.
Battle energy had long been exhausted, and the longsword in his hand was dulled from the killing. The shield had long been riddled with holes from the impact of guns and swords. One after another, the roaring prisoners fell, mixing with the bodies of the Imperial Army. Not far away, there was still a silver-white glow, but this time, in that glow were two familiar faces.
This time, the target of the healing magic was not Solan, but the Imperial Army soldiers who had fallen behind him. The enemies who rose again blocked his retreat.
The Holy Mage and the High Priest had arrived.
Their appearance brought morale to the Imperial Army and became the final straw that crushed the prisoners' ranks.
