A sickening crunch echoed across the blood-stained battlefield.
Bodies were strewn about on the snow, each one destined to become an undead if their bodies were not fed to the flames on time.
But there didn't seem to be anyone capable of dealing with the dead at the moment as most were either injured, scared or dead.
Arthur knelt at the center of it all, one of his hands missing with a portion of his face gone, revealing the bloody skull underneath.
Beside him was the unmoving body of Lucille, the Philosopher's Stone that powered her gone, leaving her lifeless.
Even as his blood stained the ground, Arthur's gaze remained focused ahead.
The subject of his attention revealed herself as a woman with a bewitching beauty.
Her steps were graceful yet powerful, her mere presence dominating the entire space with no chance of resistance.
