The archbishop turned and walked out of the tent, with several Six-Winged Angels following behind him.
Noisy sounds came from outside the tent—horns, footsteps, and the neighing of warhorses, all blending together.
Angels flew out from the tents and formed ranks in the air. Two-winged, four-winged, and six-winged angels assembled into orderly square formations.
Paladins charged out from between the tents. Their warhorses thundered across the ground, lances raised high, armor gleaming.
Priests emerged from the tents and lined up behind the Paladins. The emblems on their chests lit up, their golden radiance joining into one.
Five hundred angels, several thousand Paladins, hundreds of Priests, and a large number of Holy-Light Behemoths surged out of the depression in a mighty tide, charging toward the Undead army.
The archbishop rode a white warhorse, with two thick holy tomes hanging from either side of the saddle.
He raised his head and looked at the black tide in the distance, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"A pack of lowly Undead dares set foot upon the Land of Holy Light."
He raised his right hand, and a sphere of golden light appeared in his palm.
"For the holy light, Charge!"
The commander of the Paladin Order drew his longsword. Golden light burst from its blade, illuminating the entire wasteland.
"Charge—!"
The warhorses began to accelerate, their hooves pounding the earth as the hoofprints they left behind grew brighter and brighter.
The Paladins raised their lances, and the golden light at their tips joined together like a golden wall.
The Priests began chanting. The Holy-Light Emblems on their chests grew brighter, and light poured from them, gathering around the Paladins and forming a layer of golden shields over their bodies.
The angels flew above the formation, their wings spread wide as flames flickered along