"How many waves has it been?"
Looking at the burning shield carts in front of him, Victor dragged his exhausted body back to the line and asked Mira who was assisting nearby.
"The third wave." Mira lightly raised three fingers and then looked up at the sun in the sky.
The sun overhead was almost at noon position, and this skirmish lasted much longer than anyone expected.
Looking again at the battle line in front of him, the War Monks' morale was generally still high, but signs of fatigue were showing.
"Hey hey, mint water is coming."
A few service soldiers each carried large buckets of mint water, wobbling as they ran down the slope.
Seeing the cool mint water, the War Monks didn't rush to grab it; instead, they stood firmly like poles in their original positions, without moving.
This was because the service soldiers would help them fill up the mint water completely and deliver it to each brigade.
