The North Gate had become a sea of fire.
D leaned against the shattered remains of the gate. Cuts and scorch marks covered his silver armor, and his Inseparable Sword had lost its former gleam. His breathing rasped like worn-out bellows, every breath burning with pain and tasting of blood.
Looking around, he had never imagined that one day he would fight alongside Those Who Live in Death, sharing their fate in life and death.
Against 213 vicious enemies, these slow-moving soldiers with exposed bones had become the main force buying them time. They feared no blade, were impervious to fire and water, and could slowly reassemble even after being scattered. They faithfully carried out every command, keeping the North Gate secure and protecting D.
"How amusing! The Order's hound is huddling together with his prey!" a Recusant archer sneered. An arrow pierced one undead soldier's eye socket, extinguishing its ghostly flame and scattering its bones.
"Kill that gold-armored bastard! Make a bowl from his skull and offer it to our mistress!" The Recusant knight leading them brandished a flame-infused flamberge, advancing relentlessly with more than a dozen brutal subordinates. They had the advantage in numbers and coordinated cunningly, their eyes gleaming with the pleasure of tormenting a formidable enemy.
D deflected a heavy chop and cut down an enemy who had rushed too far ahead, but a spear immediately struck his left shoulder. His armor buckled, and the sharp pain sent him staggering backward. An undead soldier dragged its broken body to his side, reaching uselessly for the enemy with a rotten, skeletal arm. A blade severed that arm, and a war boot crushed its ribs a moment later.
"Bastards!" D growled, trying to shake off his dizziness, but blood loss and exhaustion kept crashing over him like waves.