Puki has arrived, another city has fallen.
Gray, for the third time, after fighting with all his might, was swept away by the routed army and fled the city.
The wounds on his body were still bleeding; the gash on his left shoulder cut open by a tentacle was so deep that the bone was visible. Each step felt like a knife twisting in his flesh.
He didn't stop to bandage it—there was no point. Will healing it allow him to defeat the increasingly numerous demons?
Gray had watched as the vanguard, which once could be repelled, grew larger and larger, evolving step by step into something now unstoppable.
Other than bringing in the main forces, Gray couldn't think of any way to stop Puki's advance.
But the main forces weren't here.
He lowered his head and kept walking, unsure of where to go: south or east?
Finding another city to struggle for a while, and then watching it fall again—what was the point of that?
He thought of Ke.
