The battlefield of Sagittarius Continent, once a clash between Life and Death, now suddenly twisted into something far more horrific.
The first tremors of the Death March sent every soldier's soul trembling, but what followed shattered even the greatest commanders' expectations.
All across the no-man's land, the dead rose. Not only the corpses freshly fallen on today's battlefield, but the countless bones of wars long past clawed their way up from the scarlet soil.
Rotting flesh, hollow sockets, skeletal knights, spectral archers—all clawed upward as if an unseen puppeteer had seized their very essence. The undead tide surged, but the horror did not stop there.
Within the Dead Faction's own armies, necromancers and skeletal liches raised their staffs, roaring commands, trying to bring the new tide under control. Yet in the next instant, their loyal minions—ghouls, skeletons, revenants—turned upon them, tearing apart their own masters with merciless claws.
