Pfft, pfft, pfft—
Blood and gore flew everywhere, and something splattered across his face. But the bearded Moose Centaur craftsman Mshihah didn't have time to wipe it off and see what it was.
He gripped his heavy hammer and guarded the gates of the Ancient Labyrinth Castle, holding back the Flesh Monsters surging toward him. He kept shouting and cursing at them.
Mshihah was drenched in blood, and couldn't tell which parts belonged to him and which belonged to the Flesh Monsters he'd killed.
Another Moose Centaur warrior stood beside him—Chichol, wielding a scimitar, was even more ferocious than he was.
Chichol made full use of his scimitar, which could absorb flesh and blood to nourish itself, charging in and out of the fray without pause. Countless Flesh Monsters had fallen beneath its blade.
His older brother Scylla was farther away, wielding a spear and using his Nen ability, "Pre-Battle Encouragement," to inspire the warriors around him.
The three of them and the elite troops under their command were like a towering riverbank, holding back the surging flood.
Yet their efforts did little more than slow the raging flood for a moment and nudge it slightly off course. They couldn't stop it.
The flood of Flesh Monsters kept rushing past them, heading for the other Demi-humans behind them.
And the Demi-humans who were killed would, after a while, transform into Flesh Monsters and rise again... It was a horrifying vicious cycle.
Some Moose Centaurs, despairing and giving up the fight, fell to their knees and pleaded for a response and help from the "Red Moon" they had always followed.
But in the next instant, a rusty longsword cut off one Moose Centaur's head. He died with his eyes wide open.
The one who had taken his head was a skeleton