The psychological collapse of the Aethelgard forces was not a gradual retreat; it was a systemic failure. The formation didn't just break it; it liquefied.
Men who had been prepared to die screaming hymns of divine justice moments before were now reduced to panicked animals, their boots scrabbling uselessly against the gore-slicked stone as they scrambled backward.
Their eyes, wide and bloodshot with terror, remained locked on the solitary masked figure, a walking catastrophe that had dismantled their finest elite in less time than it took to draw a full breath.
"Fall back to the flanks!"
"Disengage from the center immediately!" a high commander bellowed, his voice cracking like breaking glass as he witnessed the slaughter. "Redirect to the secondary lines!"
"Form a defensive perimeter around the archers!"
"MOVE, YOU COWARDS!"
On paper, the order was sound. It was a tactical concession meant to contain the anomaly by conceding the center ground.
