The battle raged, an unrelenting onslaught of blood and desperation.
The defenders fought like animals backed into a corner, their bodies pushed beyond their limits as the abyssal tide surged forward. Some clung to their weapons with white-knuckled grips, their breath ragged, their eyes wild with fear. Others collapsed where they stood, their wills breaking beneath the weight of hopelessness. Those who lost themselves to despair crumbled to their knees, sobbing, their contracts succumbing moments later—either turning against them or perishing outright.
The ranks of the corrupted swelled with each fallen soldier. Twisted bodies rose once more, their grotesque forms turning against former comrades. Progress was an illusion, and the defenders could feel it. The sinking realization gnawed at their resolve, feeding the very despair that threatened to unravel their resistance.
