The Dark Holy Crusaders sent in the Zerglings, a type of soldier Archbishop Platin had never thought much of.
To Platin, these ugly creatures could hardly be called soldiers. At best, they were brainless beasts. Their only virtues were that they were cheap and grew so quickly they could be bred in vast numbers.
They had originally been a failed product of the Dark Holy Crusaders' research, but now they had found a use.
Archbishop Platin did not expect them to breach the Undead Empire's defenses. He only hoped their flesh would pile high enough against the fifty-meter wall to form a slope his forces could charge straight up.
But he had made things too simple in his mind. As the Zerglings swarmed forward and the pile steadily rose, everything seemed to be going smoothly. Yet Archbishop Platin could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.
For the moment, though, he could not work out what it was.
By then, the heap of Zergling corpses below the Undead Empire's defenses had risen even higher, approaching twenty meters.
The fire from atop the wall grew fiercer as well. The defenders tried to kill the oncoming Zerglings farther out, delaying the rise of the corpse pile below as much as possible.
The two sides had fallen into an unusual contest.
Night fell, but the attack did not stop.
Archbishop Platin had learned from last time. He feared that if he halted the assault, the enemy would act under cover of darkness and clear away the vast pile of corpses accumulated during the day. After all, they had ways to do it.
At that moment, Green hovered in midair in his Death Angel incarnation, looking down on the battle from behind the front line.
Behind Green, some fifty kilometers beyond the wall