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The sky was overcast with thick clouds. Though spring had arrived, traces of winter still lingered in the northern region. Across the desolate plains, death took shape and marched forward.
A horde of half-rotten zombies groaned as they shambled forward. Skeletons, stripped down to bare bone, clutched spears and swords in their hands. Their movements rattled with every step. Ghouls, oozing foul fluids, stalked behind them.
"By the goddesses…" Sir Selvat, a knight of the Eustil Kingdom, let out a shuddering breath as he watched the onslaught approach. "They should have been laid to rest, so why do they walk this land?"
Sir Selvat was a low-ranking noble from Frat territory in the kingdom's northern region, and this was his first real battle. Having been born into a fairly wealthy family, he had spent twenty years solely training in swordsmanship. Only recently had he been knighted, and this was his first deployment.
Yet, despite his inexperience, he couldn't allow himself to succumb to fear. There were soldiers looking to him for leadership. If he let his terror show, who would keep their morale in check?
"Hatoba, grant me unwavering courage…"
Summoning what little resolve he could, he turned toward his troops—And...
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