Hajin forced his way through the shattered breach, stepping over Dreth's broken spikes toward seven workers pinned beneath enemy fire.
His cracked celestial chain dragged across the road as he counted the wounded beyond the fallen shields.
Before him lay the carnage of Dreth's brutal trap, where broken shields and fractured bones littered the muddy ditch.
Fifty paces south, three squads of mercenary skirmishers were advancing with notched crossbows, aiming for the crawling survivors.
"Lord Hajin, the enemy vanguard is retreating toward their siege towers!" Hans shouted from the ridge, pointing his spear.
"If we charge now with your divine vanguard, we can run their rear guard into the river!"
Hajin did not even glance toward the fleeing enemy columns, his eyes locking instantly onto the bleeding survivors in the dirt.
"We do not chase retreating butchers while our people bleed out in the mud," he answered with absolute clarity.
