The city wall under Zhao Zian's feet trembled, a muffled sound from the Terror Demon worshippers violently hitting the Alloy Gate with engineering hammers; each strike seemed to pound on his taut heartstrings.
As the commander of the third gate regiment of the 'Anvil' defense zone outside the Terra Imperial Palace, he had never seen such a furious crowd—no, it was no longer a crowd, but a crimson storm wrapped in steel and flesh!
Over twenty times the number of enemies, among them were a large number of traitors clad in the once golden, but now blood-stained, tarnished uniforms of the Sun Legion. They were surging like tides toward the narrow defense node.
"Artillery groups! Cover the assault line! Shotguns! Hit those climbing demon spawn!"
His voice had become hoarse from shouting in the helmet's built-in communicator.
