Looking ahead.
In front of the huge Holy City built against the mountain, beyond the moat.
A stretch of continuous, tens of meters high black fortresses rose up, completely replacing the once wooden house settlements.
Like a solid black copper wall and iron barrier, it stands at the forefront of the Holy City.
The lowly slaves who escaped from their tribe are standing at the fortress wall, holding spears and bows, casting gazes of fear, surprise, anger, or tremble.
"La, Lady Molly."
"Can we survive?"
The strong man with black hair holding a spear swallowed, trembling as he asked.
Hearing this but not answering, Molly stood on the black fortress wall, her expression heavy, subconsciously tightening the iron vine armor on her body.
Gusts of cold wind blew, causing her dark cloak to flutter noisily.
Gripping the curved blade tightly in her hand, watching the approaching Snake-man army in their thousands from the Green Field Swamp.
