The battle on the ancient staircase had become increasingly dangerous.
The narrow staircase that led toward the top of the tower had become a natural bottleneck, forcing Thoren and his undead to fight within a confined space.
Although having a large undead army was normally one of his greatest advantages, the current battlefield had turned that advantage into something almost useless.
His undead soldiers were packed tightly together.
There was simply not enough room.
The undead General stood at the front, its massive saber continuously swinging from one side to another as it desperately tried to hold back the resurrected members.
But the enemies refused to remain dead.
Every time one fell, another stepped over its corpse.
Every time a body was cut apart, the scattered pieces crawled back together.
Every time Thoren thought one had finally been eliminated, that same enemy returned with an even stronger aura.
Clang!
