The simplest phase of combat had already passed, and now, countless Beastmasters were steering their Pet Beasts forward, one after another, filling the gaps on the battlefield and wrapping things up.
Micah Brooks stood surrounded by his hundreds of subordinates, some of whom were his long-time brothers-in-arms, while others were newly recruited soldiers.
They were a group of prodigies from various top universities, battle corps, and small-to-medium-sized families.
Yet at this moment, these shining prides of their cities were now battered and bruised, with varying degrees of injuries. Some even had arms dangling by mere tendons, their faces etched with despair and confusion.
Many among them had already lost several Pet Beasts.
Although most of them weren't their core pets, unless someone was born apathetic, raising a dog for years would stir emotions, let alone intelligent Pet Beasts.
