They were...
Retreating.
Not intentionally.
They were being pushed back.
Taai climbed onto the remains of a collapsed stone wall.
From there—
He finally saw the battlefield.
Andrew.
Still fighting at the very center.
Laughing.
Bleeding.
Having the time of his life.
A massive ogre demon swung a tree trunk.
Andrew caught the trunk with one hand.
"...Weak."
He twisted.
The monster lost its balance.
His scythe carved a crimson arc.
The demon's head left its shoulders.
Several cultists rushed him together.
Andrew simply threw the corpse into them.
Bodies scattered.
Further beyond—
The mysterious man in black.
Long crimson coat.
Wide-brimmed hat.
Two pistols.
He barely moved.
He simply walked.
Bang.
A cultist collapsed.
Bang.
A monster lost an eye before another bullet pierced the exposed brain.
Bang.
A demon attempting to leap from a rooftop fell lifeless before landing.
Every shot.
One kill.
No wasted motion.
No panic.
Only precision.
Taai watched silently.
"..."
The western front still looked like hell.
Smoke covered the streets.
Buildings continued burning.
The dead lay everywhere.
Yet...
It no longer looked hopeless.
The soldiers had noticed.
Morale slowly returned.