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“What the hell…” Miguel let out a sigh. His gaze was fixed on Ian's back, who stood alone blocking the passage. Not a single undead had managed to get past Ian yet. However, Ian looked as if he could be swept away at any moment.
"No matter how you look at it, that's madness. We have to go help...!" Philip couldn't hold back any longer.
"We're supposed to protect Sir Riruel." Miguel, who had been biting his lower lip, finally shook his head.
"But—" said Philip.
"Did you forget about the order? Our joining won't be of much help. It's better to keep watch from behind to at least ease Ian’s mind."
Philip closed his mouth with a gulp. Although Miguel had stopped Philip, Miguel was just as anxious. The undead seemed endless, and Ian, no matter how strong, wouldn’t be able to fight forever.
Fuck, it doesn't seem like it'll work here. Miguel instinctively twitched his ankle.
But if the worst moment came, it would be do or die. Amid Miguel’s internal conflict, glancing back and forth between Ian and Mev, Miguel's eyes finally flashed. It was because the divine power that had formed all over Mev seeped into her armor. Her shoulders, stiff as a statue, slowly began to move.
Miguel couldn't hold back any longer, "Are you conscious, my lord?"
Mev raised her head. Before she could say anything, Miguel continued, "After you went into prayer, the spell circuit started to...
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