Arriving before the gate, there wasn't a single guard stationed waiting to greet them.
I expected as much, but still…he thought.
Rather than any guards, the gate inhabited old, dried blood that stained its umber form.
"Looks like the lacryie have had their fun," Memo said.
"Unfortunate," Archard muttered to himself in lamentation.
"It's nothing we aren't used to now, as adventurers," Samfrey said as he followed the snowy-haired man past the gates, followed by the rest.
It was after passing the gates that separated the mountain road that the atmosphere of death grew more dense.
The natural, rocky formation of the trail past the gates was changed into one pathed by stone, bolstered by reinforced walls, though none of it seemed to matter.
Painted in crimson, the stone pathway that curved and led upwards to the castle had blatantly fallen to the lacyrie.
