The news of the catastrophic defeats left the three allied lords reeling in shock.
"Annihilated? Only ten percent of them survived? How is that even possible!?"
"They even wiped out the troops stationed in the castles?"
The lords were speechless. While they had anticipated losses, they hadn't imagined their entire forces would be obliterated. To make matters worse, it wasn't just Sylas—they now knew he commanded multiple monstrous subordinates.
"Damn it! Should we use our remaining forces to target their rear?"
"And where will you get the soldiers for that? Are you going to pull troops from your central forces?"
Jero's sarcastic tone silenced Franz. While more troops could theoretically be mobilized, it would take ti—ti they didn't have.
Moreover, the central castles, their strategic strongholds, had been completely destroyed. Any reinforcents sent would likely be ambushed and annihilated near the wreckage.
Franz sighed deeply.
"There's only one option left. We need to fortify our remaining strongholds and wait for them to co to us."
"So, you're saying we should just play into their hands?" Jero retorted.
"What other choice do we have? If we wander the plains without a stronghold, we'll be finished for sure!" Franz shot back.
Had it been just Sylas, they might have considered counter attacking with overwhelming numbers. But Sylas had three monstrous subordinates and the fad Red Wolf rcenaries under his command.
"If the Dragonslayer attacks alone, we might stand a chance. But if they all strike at once, even an army scraped together from every corner will collapse. Do you want to take that gamble?"
"Damn it!" Jero growled, turning away in frustration.
Roland, who had been silent until now, finally spoke.
"I agree with the defensive strategy, but what about the other lords? They'll demand action, especially after all they've contributed."
Franz sneered.
"Let them complain. Better to endure their nagging than lose everything by making a rash move."
Both Jero and Roland nodded reluctantly. The battlefield returned to a stalemate, just as Sylas had intended.
The allied forces, having suffered a devastating blow, did not dare move. They made it clear they wouldn't act until Sylas's forces ca to their doorstep.
"Wise of them," Sylas remarked with a faint smile after hearing the report.
"If they had tried to attack my rear, I would've crushed them entirely."
"But didn't you once say we needed to prevent them from targeting our rear?" Max asked as he poured tea.
"That was when they had the numbers to attack both our rear and our main forces simultaneously," Sylas replied with a shrug.
"After this battle, their losses are severe. They can no longer strike my rear while still having the strength to take Glixborg Castle."
Glixborg was a fortress that had once served as a lord's castle—strong and defensible. Without Sylas, it might have been overrun, but that only highlighted the sheer gap in power.
"With their forces weakened, they can't afford to target my rear. Losing another army would tip the scales irreversibly in my favor," Sylas explained.
While the alliance still held a nurical advantage overall, one more devastating loss could shatter their position entirely.
"Besides," Sylas added, "I've already declared them traitors. Having said that, I have no choice but to march straight into their territory."
"So, the traitors will wait, gathering their forces, even knowing reinforcents are coming to aid us?" Max asked.
"They think they can handle it," Sylas replied confidently.
The only publicly known reinforcent was the shipnt of 500 sets of magical armor from the elves. The allied forces likely believed they could manage that much.
"Sure, the armor will make them tough to deal with, but they probably think we lack enough skilled knights to properly use it. At best, they might expect us to outfit the entire Red Wolf rcenaries," Sylas said with a smirk.
"And they wouldn't be wrong—if I had only requested aid from the elves."
Sylas's grin widened as he sipped his tea.
"Magical armor, huh? My father-in-law really knows how to assess a situation."
Even ordinary full-body armor could dramatically change the tide of battle. Magical armor, imbued with protective spells, would make any elite knight nearly invincible, capable of cutting through ten enemies and continuing to fight.
'And if my expectations are correct, the strongest knights from the east are on their way.'
Sylas envisioned the continent's mightiest knights clad in the finest armor, dominating the battlefield. The thought brought a deep smile to his face.
"…I didn't expect all three to arrive simultaneously," Sylas murmured as he watched the reinforcents gather before him.
The reactions to his words varied.
"My apologies," said Roderick, a knight from the East. "Had we hurried, we might have arrived earlier, but we were cautious to avoid drawing unnecessary attention."
Sylas turned to Roderick with a smile.
"It's been a long ti, Sir Roderick. It's good to see you, but are you sure it's alright to leave your lord's side?"
"My lord gave his permission," Roderick replied firmly. "And how could I, hearing that you were suffering at the hands of traitors, sit idly by at ho?"
His gaze was as resolute as ever. Roderick was the knight who had first t Sylas in Brick Village and brought him to the Corleone family. Though they had been apart for so ti, Roderick's loyalty remained as steadfast as it had been back then.
Sylas's smile widened as he glanced at the knights behind Roderick.
"Do they all feel the sa way?"
"Without question!"
The knights, as if they had been holding back their emotions, erupted with fiery anger—not toward Sylas, but toward his enemies.
"To insult the bloodline of the Red Dragon is unforgivable!"
"They will pay in blood for their arrogance!"
"Death is the only punishnt for traitors!"
"For the heir of Leonik, our forefather!"
Their impassioned cries filled the air. Sylas raised his fist and shouted loud enough for all to hear.
"Heroes who once fought under the wings of the Red Dragon! Show these insignificant traitors the true power of justice and the might of knights!"
Waaaaah!
The Red Dragon Knights—or, more precisely, half of them, representing the Corleone family—raised their weapons with a deafening roar.
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