It was as if there was a silent abyss there, waiting to be torn apart by light.
With a deafening crash, the Golden Knights charged into the Archibald Army like an unstoppable torrent.
Their momentum was unstoppable, long spears like a forest, swords flashing like lightning. Every slash, every thrust, was accompanied by the clanging of metal and the sight of enemies falling.
Archibald's soldiers were like fragile scarecrows before this golden storm, torn apart by a great force, turned into a bloody mess. The spattering blood dyed the battlefield red, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of rust and blood.
Faced with this sudden ferocious onslaught, the Archibald Army, which had barely maintained order, instantly fell into utter chaos.
Panicked, the soldiers attempted to fend off this overwhelming power with their flesh and blood, but their efforts were in vain. The formation of the Golden Knights, led by Bevis, became even tighter, forming an unbreakable wedge formation.
