There was no hope in sight at all. I had no motivation to write this. I originally planned to write two chapters, but in the end I really couldn't keep going, so there would only be one. After finishing, I'd play some games and go to bed, then continue the burst of updates tomorrow.
Night lay hazy over the battlefield, where the brutal fighting had lasted an entire day and still raged on. The undead were monsters that knew no fatigue. For them, it was attack, attack, and attack without end. This was their advantage, and as a competent commander, Scott would never abandon any advantage he held.
This kind of relentless siege was the most terrifying of all. Throughout history, whatever form a siege took, attackers would generally sound the retreat after suffering a setback, regroup, rest for a night, and resume their assault the following day. But that did not apply to the undead.
"What an irritating night!" Gazing into the distant darkness, Ulysses looked disgruntled. The undead were favored by the night. Their natural advantage allowed them to see every detail in the darkness without any light. Not only was their vision unhindered, it was actually enhanced.
It was essentially an innate talent, and it was also why the undead particularly favored dark surroundings.
The undead could see at night, but neither the warriors of Gilneas nor the High Elves could. That was why the Greymane Wall had initially been lit up as brightly as day. Now, however, its lighting was plainly far worse than at the beginning. In many places, braziers and torches had replaced magical lighting devices, and the light was no longer brilliant white, but fiery red.
Despite deliberate efforts to protect them, many of the lighting devices had still been destroyed by targeted