On Milim's side, her Blood Grand Knight roared as he cleaved through undead in rapid succession, his greatsword absorbing the essence of the fallen, making him even more monstrous in power. His very presence caused the battlefield to tremble, and each of his swings shattered the sound barrier.
The Dark Grand Knight, in contrast, moved like a ghostly executioner, teleporting from shadow to shadow, cutting down even the elite Death Lich guards before they could react. However, the Prophet watched from his throne of bones, his skeletal fingers forming intricate symbols in the air.
Suddenly, the battlefield froze.
A blinding golden sigil appeared in the sky, covering the ruins in an oppressive, divine light.
The Prophet grinned, his decayed face stretching grotesquely. "You fools think you can stand against the true will of faith? Even if I am false, faith itself is a power you cannot erase!"
