When the call of war pierced through layers of mist and reached the boundary where reality and soul intersect, it exploded into surging waves across this barren land. Countless spirits, newly dead and still clinging to the mortal world, chased the crimson light with their eyes. They saw it—truly saw it! Amidst that radiance of crimson mixed with deep black, the knight who symbolized struggle and arms, slaughter and turmoil, bloodshed and sacrifice, was issuing a summons to those who had died in this world!
Greedy, blazing light erupted in the eyes of the undead. They fought with all their might, struggling desperately free from the soul-piercing agony of the Styx Emissary's pitch-black chains, and began to chase the bloody light, desperately hoping to become the ones chosen.
As time passed, more and more undead gathered, forming an oppressive, ink-black cloud. They swirled in the sky above this desolate land, emitting shrill, piercing wails as if expressing their yearning for life and their terror of death. These undead came from diverse races and backgrounds, but at this moment they shared a single goal: to become the summoned ones and return to the mortal realm.
Chapter 411