The Final Battle, Castian's Death

The Blood Clan's blood sacrifice had engulfed the entire Graymist Defense Zone.

Castian charged at the very front. He saw three Sacred Flame Altars tethered by blood-red threads, and the mangled remains that kept dissolving into pulp only to form again.

Ordinary measures had lost all meaning.

Purification could burn away the surface filth, but it could not touch the blood-magic bridge the Blood Clan had erected themselves. Hymns could steady hearts, but they could not drown out the sacrificial chanting on the battlefield.

Knight's Charge could not reach the Blood Clan. The Grayblood Main Vein kept raising barriers of corpses and bones, while Yasol was pinned down by layer upon layer of sacrificial puppets.

Castian could no longer see a way to stop it, but he still rushed toward the Blood Clan without a moment's hesitation.

He did not know what the Blood Clan intended. Instinct told him that if they succeeded, the Graymist Defense Zone—and perhaps the entire Tear Knight Defense Line—would fall.

He had to reach them, even if he could hold them back for only one more breath.

Castian strode across Frozen Tundra soaked in bloody filth. Whiteflame surged without cease from the holy script carved into his body, and he became a streak of dazzling, searing lightning.

Ahead, barriers of corpses and bones rose one after another. The Grayblood Main Vein writhed beneath the ground. Several high-ranking Grayblood Monsters turned toward him, bloodlight kindling in their empty sockets as they raised broken swords to stop him.

Castian lifted a hand. Whiteflame poured from his palm and burned straight through the monsters ahead. Heat spread outward from the holy seal along his breastbone, and the taste of blood rose in his throat.

Barely a dozen more steps would bring him to the outer ring of the