Establishing a Foothold

The temple knight commander erupted with power, but not completely.

He shouted his battle cry, as if his body contained an inexhaustible supply of divine power.

But no matter how much divine power he had, the strength he could pour into each attack was still limited.

Every one of his attacks was like the flow from a faucet. Even if the water tower behind it was replaced by a vast lake—

—it would not increase the amount of water flowing out. The extra divine power would merely extend how long he could fight.

After this temple knight erupted, two more Death Vanguards flew out from the infantry line.

Now it was five against one. Even with an endless supply of divine power at his disposal, the temple knight commander could not withstand such an assault.

The temple knight commander's entire body had already been shattered. In the final moments of his life, he still fought for his god, for the Hemel Plane.

When a Death Vanguard's greatsword severed his head—

The head of that stern-faced middle-aged man flew through the air, his lips still murmuring:

"My god."

"Your servant... has failed your glory..."

In the brief instant before his head fell, he saw the church legion he had led, along with the two infantry swordsman regiments.

Those soldiers had already collapsed into rout. The battlefield was strewn with severed limbs and mangled remains.

The terrifying undead were slaughtering the soldiers without mercy, while ash-white Skeleton Cavalry raced unhindered across the battlefield.

The temple knight commander slowly closed his eyes. He was too tired. He needed to rest for a while.

In the outer void, the gods watched this battlefield.

Some gazes were calm, some filled with hatred, some panicked.

The Shadow God shifted His gaze away from the temple knight