Another officer, his face filled with terror, also tried to reason with him. "Sir, that Lynch... his main army is definitely pursuing us from behind! If we get held up here, they'll surround us. Then, if the Undead inside the fortress charge out, we'll be caught in a pincer attack... We... we'll be finished!"
These words were like buckets of ice water, dousing the flames of rage that had nearly consumed Angus's reason.
He clenched his teeth, staring at the fortress that was so close, yet so unreachable. He stared at the mocking silhouettes of the Undead on the walls, at the arrogant purple-haired woman on the command tower...
Hatred!
An overwhelming wave of hatred threatened to consume him.
But he knew his officers were right. Attacking the fortress now would be nothing short of suicide.
As things stood, there was only one path to survival left...
He slowly, painfully turned his neck, his gaze falling to the southeast. That was the path to Sardinia Province: Gray Claw Gorge.
