The sky overhead remained a deathly dull grey, and the land was a mass of wounds.
The Pope resolutely blocked the mouth of the abyss.
No one knew how long he had struggled in this hell, or how many Demon People he had killed.
His life had long since passed its endpoint, transforming into one of The Undead.
The rules of the Undead slowly eroded his will, but the remaining sanity told him he had to continue to block the large army of Demon People.
The body of the living dead was crumbling bit by bit; beneath the broken skin, the flesh was blurred, almost all internal organs shattered. Each breath came with excruciating pain, and what was worse was the soul-eating Curse.
But every additional Spell used could save tens of thousands of innocent beings.
"Detected an oversized Demon Person! Stop the troops in the rear!"
The entire army arrayed itself and shouted, breaking the dead silence.
Following the sound, Lanci saw a group of Knights on silver armored steeds.