The scent of blood permeated the surroundings; each street was filled with bodies that overflowed. From myriads to ghouls, one could no longer be properly defined. However, one thing was for sure: that those who rose once again were the myriads that had recently perished.
On each side, battles were taking place, and on the farther side was a myriad fighting two ghouls at once. His breathing was getting tougher and tougher, with fatigue slowly creeping into every part of his body. He held his sword firmly, his lips and eyebrows frowning in despair.
Yet, he refused to lose, and so with a final struggle, he screamed with a bestial-like roar, which was very effective, raising the morale of others and himself. The veins in his legs bulged, and with force of fury, he exerted a large amount of strength and pushed himself forward.
