The dawn has passed, but this ancient town, located northwest of the Seryan Griffin Mountain Range, has not been bathed in the morning light as it used to be.
Shadows envelop the land as if an endless night, and a surging sea of the undead sweeps over the high walls of the castle; the outer quarters of the town have turned into an ocean of death, with thousands of Defender Army corpses scattered everywhere...
The last survivors, the elderly, the weak, women, and children, huddle deep within the formidable bulwarks of the Holy Hall.
Trembling, the sturdy stone walls and dome above them fail to provide any sense of safety.
Under the guidance of priests, people sob and pray helplessly.
"...Oh Saint Sol above, we bow our heads and gaze upward, your light like a torch, gracing all creatures... We implore the Flame Sun to oversee, bestow wisdom, grant courage...
