They were waiting for the final battle.
Even now, the battle on the battlefield was extremely fierce. There were withered flowers of life everywhere. Fresh blood dyed the earth red, and the rich smell of blood turned this place into a living hell.
But in reality, the real climax of the battle had yet to arrive. Both sides were waiting.
Gibran watched coldly from the side.
He watched as the half-devil worshippers that he had painstakingly nurtured were slowly wiped out.
These fanatics, who could have easily defeated the East County's elite troops of nearly 10,000 people, were slowly grinded to death by Kant's troops like the millstones. Kant's troop crushing them head-on with large numbers.
Those half-devil knights were almost completely wiped out.
There was nothing they could do.
There were too many Sarrandian Horsemen surrounding this group of knights.