The Templars were screaming, crying, and praying non-stop, asking for mercy from the illusory god. Under the cruelty of blood and fire, they were more pious than ever before, almost wanting to completely sacrifice their whole body and soul to God. But even such piety could not get anything in return. The demons were still advancing, and the defense line organized by mortals was vulnerable in the face of fangs and claws.
The Medici Square turned into a slaughterhouse of flesh and blood. The corpses fell down in pieces, and the blood flowed through the cracks between the bricks and seeped into the ground.
The blazing fire shone on the bronze statue of Lorenzo de' Medici in the center. The shine and blood distorted the face of the sculpture, as if an evil spirit was living in it. At this moment, the statue came alive, enjoying their death and pain.
Fear captured the hearts of these people. Without anyone who could suppress the fear and face it all, they fought on their own in chaos, like a flock of sheep whose fence had been broken open, facing an attacking hungry wolf and could only run away tiredly.
"Someone...someone please save me."
Some Templar Knights cried out for help. He was standing inside the defense line, from where he could clearly see the advancing demons, as well as the Templar Knights fighting with them in the front.
His body was shaking so violently that he couldn't even hold the sword. He let go of the blade and heard the sound of metal hitting the ground. Then he slowly knelt down, prostrated himself on the ground, and prayed to the non-existent God.
“Stand up!”
The person on the other side cursed and tried to pull him up, but he remained indifferent.
The two men were pulling each other until a certain moment, when one of them stopped pulling. The Templar who was kneeling on the ground raised his head slightly, only to see a headless corpse standing beside him, with blood still oozing from the broken neck.
“Ha…ha…ah!”
He gasped violently, then screamed loudly, fear and disgust surging in his body. His screams did not last long, as the vomit that surged up from his stomach blocked his throat, and he vomited all over the floor, as if he had vomited out his soul as well.
Before he could make any extra moves, more corpses pressed down on him, pinning him into the darkness. Then a demon passed by and used its sharp blade to strangle all of them into minced meat.
It's snowing.
Someone looked up, and in the light of the fire, the floating objects scattered in the air became clearer. Then they fell down, leaving sticky scarlet spots on their bodies.
Red snow, snow that carries fear and death.
"Don't run away! Reorganize the formation!"
Those who still had some sanity shouted that the demons were much stronger than them in both strength and speed. All they could do was to use their own advantages as much as possible to fight against the demons.
Some people obeyed his orders, some fled in panic, and some just knelt on the ground, waiting to die without saying a word.
He ignored those people and turned to look at those who were approaching him. No matter what, he had to seize this last chance to survive.
As he was thinking this, a dark shadow covered him the next second.
The figure was completely frozen, like a prey being stared at by a predator, every nerve in the body emitting warning and fear.