[The First Day of Destruction, 20:38]
[The Inner Wall: Command Post]
A mechanical groan from the massive inner vault doors echoed across the burning city, ringing out as the heavy sound of iron sealing against stone.
Down in the kill zone, the fragile corridor of [Holy Fire] sputtered and died. Viridian darkness rushed back into the void, entirely severing the fifty Vanguard Paladins from the rear lines.
Commander Vane stood with absolute stillness. Gauntleted hands locked onto the stone parapet, squeezing until the ancient granite began to fracture beneath his steel fingertips.
Below him, the glowing wedge of holy warriors had ground to a halt exactly fifty meters out from the wall. The sea of undead pressing inward from the Outer District proved too dense to allow another inch of advancement. This literal ocean of rotting meat absorbed their momentum like a massive sponge.
Yet their objective was complete. Having successfully carved out a pocket of space, they provided the heavy evacuation carts in the plaza the necessary breathing room to pivot.
Those transports fled the slaughter zone, rumbling heavily into the reinforced subterranean sanctum tunnels beneath the Inner District. The innocents were now secure deep within the earth behind locked barriers.
"They did it," breathed the ash-covered lieutenant, sagging against the map table. A hysterical note of relief cracked the young officer's voice.
"By the Six, they actually opened the throat."
Vane offered no celebration. Maintaining a mask, the commander looked past the retreating civilian carts to lock his eyes upon the glowing perimeter of the Paladin wedge before panning his gaze across the wider, deteriorating battlefield.
The celestial canopy above them was failing. Viridian fog sank lower into the atmosphere, choking out the stars. Nearby, two high-tier Principality Peace angels flickered violently, emitting a sharp resonance like shattered glass before dissipating into golden dust. The suffocating necrotic miasma rising from the horde had completely destabilized their celestial forms.
While the elite vanguard drew the heaviest opposition to the center, the flanks of the Inner Wall were rapidly bleeding out. The ambient roar of combat to the east forced Vane to shift his attention. A horde of multi-jointed ghouls and feral zombies scaled the masonry, bypassing the main gate entirely to crawl up the vertical stone like insects.
A nearby militiaman shrieked as a ghoul's elongated claws sank deep into his breastplate, ripping the boy backward over the precipice. Stepping into the fresh gap, a battered priest swung a heavy brass censer burning with sacred incense to smash the creature's skull violently.
It remained a losing battle of attrition. Two more rotting corpses vaulted over the merlon to replace the fallen ghoul. Local militia fought back with shattered spears, trench knives, and bare hands upon stone rendered treacherous by slick blood.
Tracking the melee, Vane watched a veteran sergeant drive his shield into a zombie's face, only to suffer a severed elbow from a leaping Carrion Wight. The seasoned soldier lacked even the time to scream before the horde dragged his body down into the darkness.
That defensive line was a fraying thread, snapping one brave man at a time.
Forcing his focus back to the center, the commander reexamined the violent perimeter of the Paladin wedge. He tallied the motionless, pristine white shapes resting upon the blood-soaked cobblestones.
One. Three. Six. Six of the greatest warriors the Theocracy had ever produced were snuffed out in less than five minutes of combat, left trampled beneath the rotting boots of the horde.
Those fallen heroes did not constitute the worst part of the view.
Out in the swirling green fog, situated just beyond the flickering light of the defensive perimeter, dark shadows were effortlessly reforming.
The massive Death Knights, those obsidian giants the angels had felled via suicidal kinetic strikes, methodically stood back up. Dented black armor and fractured tower shields clung to their massive frames.
Yet they remained active. Possessing no stamina to drain, no muscles to tear, and no morale to break, the undead entities soaked the holy damage, righted themselves, and stepped directly back into the vanguard.
Deeper within the emerald smog, fresh shadows materialized.
Thud. Thud. Thud. A rhythmic, marching cadence returned to echo off the high walls of the city. Perfectly synchronized and devoid of human hesitation, a new legion of heavy infantry marched forward to replace the fallen.
Gripping the parapet anew, Vane experienced violent tremors in his hands. This reaction stemmed not from fear, but from the devastating, hollow crash of adrenaline leaving a body confronted by the certainty of defeat.
"Pull them back," Vane ordered. The dry, scraping rasp of his voice barely carried over the howling wind. "Collapse the wedge. Sound the retreat to the gate."
Staring back in utter shock, the lieutenant lost all previous relief from his ash-covered face. "Sir? But they hold the pocket. If they fall back now..."
"We bought the time," Vane interrupted, turning his head slowly to look the young officer directly in the eye. The unyielding certainty radiating from the commander's gaze silenced the subordinate.
"Now we save the coin. Leaving them out there for another three minutes guarantees the dead will swallow them whole."
Returning his attention to the battered line of his elite defenders, Vane studied their white armor, now heavily stained with black ichor and gray ash. Those men were holding back an ocean with nothing but rusted swords and bleeding faith. They were magnificent and utterly doomed.
"Hold with teeth," Vane whispered to the sulfurous wind. The crushing weight of command fractured his voice. "If they take this wall tonight, make them choke on every single inch of it."
Drawing a deep breath of ash and pulverized bone, the commander allowed the reality of the apocalypse to settle into his lungs, preparing his mind for the end.
"RESET LINES!" Vane roared. His voice boomed through the command crystals to shatter the foolish, momentary relief across the wall.
"RELOAD THE CAULDRONS! BRACE THE GATES! THEY ARE COMING BACK!"