On an ancient, large stone arch bridge on a battlefield, fierce screams filled the air as an intense large-scale battle for the bridge was underway.
"Both of our captains, the three combined heavy infantry squadrons who were acting as vanguards, have been wiped out again! The three squadron leaders died in battle!"
On the bridge, which was more than 20 meters wide, a messenger clad in blue patterned armor staggered in front of two middle-aged Saint Night commanders with beards, and loudly reported.
"Damn it, Viscount Hector Olsen, our two regiments have suffered too much. I think we should withdraw first."
One of the long bearded commanders wiped the blood on his face, looking quite embarrassed.
"Ah, Baron Redroot is right. We have no choice but to do so. The enemy's heavy crossbowmen's lethality is extraordinarily powerful, and their commanders are two Tier 3 sharpshooters who never miss!"
