Blood was spilled, mounting corpses, a fellow kin's cry of despair, fellow myriads taking their final breath. Now slowly but surely, enough time had passed; one by one, the first myriads to fall had begun to rise. Their hearts beat no longer, sacred life snuffed out of existence.
The myriad, now exhausted and struggling to breathe, glanced from side to side. He saw that the fallen ones had begun to rise. Uncertainty gripped every fiber of his being; unknown fear he never thought he would someday feel gripped his body, freezing him in place, unable to move despite holding his sword steadfast.
He looked over to the side and saw that the scholars were getting overwhelmed. Their only hope and mind in this trying time struck a deep chord within him—extreme sadness and despair. Thus, being one of the least injured myriads from the rest of the group, he scanned for a way out.
