With a heart full of helplessness and humiliation, Edmund ran towards the mound.
Standing beside Alfus's corpse, His Highness the Prince looked at the battlefield with deep melancholy.
With just over an hour until dusk, the sun still set in the west, and under the gentle sunlight, the Salvation Army loomed over the mound like a black iron mountain.
Between the mound and the lowland, riderless warhorses ran wildly, wounded soldiers bled and wailed, and the occasional twitch of a knight's corpse indicated the banner of the Golden Finch Family was casually thrown onto the ground.
This kind of battle was simply not one he could imagine winning.
At the mountain pass of the high platform ranges, at that time, Horn's banner only bore the symbol of the sun without the black and red colors. He was so close to that banner, were it not for that old knight, he would have caught this rat.
