Opening his face armor, Yevan took deep breaths of the blood-scented air, surrounded by the shrieks of countless Wandering Souls, dragging his wounded and exhausted body amidst the remaining guards to slaughter the Corpse Ghosts climbing the city walls.
The glimpse of hope in the dire situation appeared as fleeting as an epiphyllum, as if no matter how many Living Corpses were killed, there were always endlessly more Undead rushing forth.
There were fewer and fewer living people on the city walls, some were killed, but more fled the battlefield in fear. The front lines shattered, and a large number of Living Corpses had already rushed into the city.
At a haste glance, seeing Living Corpses running in the streets and alleys, Yevan could almost hear the screams aroused by the Corpse Demons slaughtering the civilians.
Turning his head to see Ron, still fiercely fighting nearby, he never imagined his last battle in life would be alongside this mob leader.
