The outcome of the battle was decided. Having reached the Golden Eighth Tier, Robson no longer felt the urge to charge into the fray.
When his Personal Guards caught up, Robson retreated to a nearby tree. He simply closed his eyes and began to rest, waiting for Claude and Knight Commander Elon. Lord Robson was drained of energy; he hadn't rested for a moment since receiving the reports from the front.
It had to be said, the battlefield was an excellent crucible for a man. Although humanity had already secured a decisive victory, localized skirmishes were still breaking out, yet Robson could somehow just relax in such an environment.
Seeing their lord like this, his Personal Guards said nothing. They simply formed a perimeter around Robson, vigilantly protecting him.
Before long, the sound of approaching hoofbeats broke the quiet. Robson could easily discern that the horses were heading straight for them.
'Why did they stop?'
