Dark Lord

The sound of artillery fire had interrupted Whitemane's prayers more times than she could count. She knelt before Terenas's throne, begging the Holy Light for aid.

The people within the city were panicking. Just as the Crusaders had experienced in New Avalon years ago, when the tide of Undead came, they were utterly helpless.

The High Inquisitor seemed to have heard the words "airship." Someone was saying that the city gates had been blasted open by artillery fire from an airship. She hoped it was not true.

"High Inquisitor."

The palace doors were pushed open. Whitemane shuddered and turned to see a masked woman stumble in, panting heavily. She was covered in blood and looked as though she had just endured a terrible battle.

"The guards defending the city need rest. A fresh batch of soldiers must be sent to relieve them."

The suggestion was worth considering. The Undead attacked without pause, but the Crusaders' warriors had limited stamina. Yet at the moment, she had no troops left to deploy.

"Send the palace guards over. They can at least hold out for a while." Whitemane felt despair at her own words. What would they do after that while had passed?

The masked female warrior seemed to have left. Whitemane did not care when she had gone; she only hoped no one else would come disturb her. But that hope was shattered by a gust of wind sweeping over her back.

The High Inquisitor smelled death. She abruptly rose and spun around, raising her gem-studded staff before her, but there was nothing behind her. Just as she was about to breathe a sigh of relief, someone on the throne spoke. "It is an honor to meet again, High Inquisitor."

Whitemane instinctively attacked the speaker behind her. A Holy Light Judgment flew