The desperate players followed along with Arthur and joined his group, drawn by the bloody promise of salvation.
Their group pushed through the horde's of beasts, with their leader's efficient blood manipulation technique making easy work of the withering beasts.
The weaker ones of course.
Ishiki watched them go, but he didn't follow behind them.
He was looking elsewhere.
He was looking up at the top of the remaining section of the wall.
Standing there, silhouetted against the Silver Moon, was a figure. It wasn't a beast or a player.
It was a humanoid shape with large, bat-like wings folded behind its back. Horns curled from its forehead. It stood with its arms crossed, looking down at the slaughter with a smile of pure, satisfied malice.
Ishiki's breath caught in his throat. His blood turned to ice.
It was the Demon that had almost killed him inside the Crimson Canopy all those months ago.
