Under the glow of the bonfire and torches, on the dark-red, blood-soaked ground, dozens of corpses lay tangled together where they had died in battle, every one of them with angry eyes wide open. Some wore wooden crosses, some were adorned with bright feathers, and some had grassland bone ornaments hanging from them. Their weapons were scattered across the ground, axes stained with blood, greatswords sticky with flesh, short spears thrust crosswise through the chests and bellies of their enemies!
Blood gathered into shallow streams, slowly flowing out from between the warriors' intertwined bodies. This scene of flesh, corpses, and banners woven together in the scorched earth looked both like the deathly Purgatory in the eyes of the believers of the Cross, and like a sacrificial god-war as understood by the believers of the Main God.
Twenty Crusader Veterans, all wearing cuirasses, had died where they fell, their heads either dropped to the ground or only half remaining. Eighteen Kingdom Warriors, too, had died beside the veterans, bearing mortal wounds to the chest and neck. With a full advantage in numbers, equipment nearly on par, the same fanatical fighting spirit, and the leadership of a brave Wolf Head general, the battle-loss ratio between the Kingdom Warriors and the Crusader Veterans had finally been forced below one to one!
"Main God bless us! Leader of the Demons! Come! Do you dare fight me in a single duel, as an offering to the Main God?"
Warrior captain Copilli let his blood-dripping great axe hang low and looked coldly at the Demon leader, Deputy Commander Antonio, issuing a challenge to single combat.
"Dios mío! You cruel barbarian! Who would duel you? I am a viscount noble of Castile, the commander of the fleet—"
Antonio looked at this cruel scene of Purgatory and felt