In White Rock Province of the Nagarash Kingdom, at Winter Fortress, tens of thousands of demons, driven by a Low-tier Soul Intent Balrog Flame Demon, attacked the mountain-backed stronghold.
Inside the fortress, the old and weak dismantled houses while the young and strong transported supplies.
On the city wall, an army made up of class-holders was locked in bloody combat with the demons that had charged onto the ramparts.
For every demon they killed, two or three class-holders of the same tier had to pay with their lives.
After a full day of continuous bloody battle, the demon army slowly withdrew.
A level-seven warrior removed his helmet and rested both hands on the city wall, watching the demon army recede into the distance. His face was numb, but there was still a faint light in his eyes, because far away, there was still someone he longed for.
"My lord, have some ale." A level-three warrior dragged his exhausted body over to the level-seven warrior's side and handed him the waterskin in his hand, speaking through cracked lips.
Hearing him, the level-seven warrior reached out and took the waterskin, pulled out the stopper, and drank in great gulps.
Seeing him drink so heartily, the level-three warrior did his best to shift his gaze away and not look at the scene.
Halfway through, the level-seven warrior stopped and returned the waterskin to the level-three warrior. "You have some too."
"Thank you, my lord."
After saying that, the level-three warrior paid no mind to the setting and pressed the waterskin to his mouth, drinking in small sips.
"Lord Kexius, General Kellogg asks you to come over." An officer came to the level-seven warrior's side and reported respectfully.
"I understand."
The level-seven warrior picked up his sword and helmet, jumped down from the city