Amid the vast expanse of yellow sand, soldiers of the Ezomal Empire were still desperately resisting the undead army.
Accompanied by battle cries and the clanging of metal, screams erupted from the sandy ground; blood and flesh flew everywhere as the undead's Sharp Blades continuously pierced through the warriors' uniforms, splattering blood in all directions.
The warriors roared one after another, their ferocious faces flickering with the light of hatred as they charged towards the undead.
As the battle wore on, the corpses began to accumulate on the battlefield, and the air grew increasingly thick with the scent of blood.
Evans, just like the countless times before, slashed through the heads of three skeleton soldiers in front of him, temporarily creating some space before turning to look around.
At this moment, on the vast desert, the dark mass of the undead army still surged forward like a tide, seemingly endless.
