The Soldiers of the Rebel Army fought to their limits, attacking relentlessly while also having to constantly defend themselves.
Their shields were battered and punctured by the enemy's swords, their armor burned red-hot from Fireballs and bolts of Thunder, and their weapons constantly broke.
They fought with all they had, but the Imperial Army held the advantage in numbers and equipment.
Cavalry thundered across the battlefield, their hooves pounding the ground with a deafening clamor.
The Musketeers charged with their spears, the sharp points piercing the bodies of the Rebel Army Soldiers.
Archers on the battlefield concentrated their fire, raining arrows down continuously on the Rebel Army Soldiers.
The Mages' Magic bombarded the enemy like artillery; Fireballs exploded, flames surged, and bolts of Thunder struck down—a terrifying sight.
Ryan stood to one side, wielding his Magic Wand and casting potent Spells.
His face was devoid of expression, only his eyes were cold.
