The number of undead is increasing, from hundreds to thousands, from thousands to tens of thousands, they surge like a tide toward the frontline of the Molten Spirit, shredding any living thing into pieces.
Vera's thorn vines crazily pour out from the space rift, covering the sky, enveloping half the battle line.
On the dark green vines, pale golden flowers bloom, with liquid light flowing from the stamens, ensnaring, trapping, and devouring large swathes of Molten Spirits.
Where the vines pass, the frontline of the Molten Spirits' army is like a field inundated by a flood, completely unresisting.
