Spring passed, and it was now the end of summer, when cool autumn winds offered a reprieve from the stifling heat. Under the warm sunlight, a battle raged in a ripe autumn wheat field. Fires burned across it, turning the crops to ash. During the massive ambush, some rushed to harvest what remained while others continued to burn them down, leading to pandemonium. After having only defended against enemy attacks, this was the result of Caradoc's attempt to advance north, believing that it was the perfect time to strike. Percival had expressed concern, but Caradoc had only played it off with an awkward smile.

Mordred advanced to the front line, following the sound of screams of despair, and swung his sword mercilessly. Every time he swung, a strong gust of wind blew enemy soldiers away like autumn leaves. Mordred swept the battlefield alone, like a human natural disaster. No matter what magic attacks were sent his way, they were all cut down by Mordred's sword. A few brave knights on horseback surrounded Mordred, but it was useless. Their horses fainted and foamed at the mouth the moment they were exposed to Mordred’s killing intent, and a knight with no steed was the same as an ordinary soldier to Mordred.

"How pathetic! Is there no one who can entertain me? Aheletle is probably rolling in his grave for raising you cowards!" Mordred provoked.

The Giant warriors grew furious. The head of the great...