For the Pale Empire, soldiers dying in battle had never been much of a problem.
After the Sifa Army launched its ferocious surprise attack.
After the Empire lost a considerable number of soldiers.
An elderly man with white hair had grayish-white eyes without pupils.
He walked through the camp, where fires burned everywhere, took out a white skull, and pressed his hand against it.
A moment later.
Pale flames began burning in the skull's pitch-black eye sockets.
The corpses nearest the old man suddenly twitched, then rolled over and stood up.
These corpses had suffered blast injuries in several places; one had even had its neck blown apart.
Yet they still held the weapons they had used in life, laboriously dragging their feet as they followed the old man.
And there were many such corpses moving after death.
Some crawled out of burning tents, some burrowed out of the earth, and some pulled out wooden stakes embedded in their bellies.
Without exception, all these different corpses staggered along behind the old man.
They formed a great army.
Whoosh!
More and more spirits and phantoms.
Came flying in from every direction.
They circled in the sky.
An imposing spectacle.
This army of the dead surged outside the city, taking the place of the Empire's soldiers to strike the invaders head-on.
On the arrow tower.
The imperial commander, Alment Eggers, gave the old man holding the skull a slight nod.
Then he looked outside the city.
Beyond the city, snow and wind howled, and the ground was frozen.
The invaders strode forward through the blizzard, seemingly unafraid of the slippery ground.
As it turned out, the soldiers taking part in tonight's battle had all bound iron chains around their shoes to increase traction, so they did not have to worry about slipping