Every Holy Knight turned toward the small figure of darkness.
Beneath the moonlight, surrounded by the shattered remains of the undead, the girl's silhouette looked like death given form.
Several knights reacted instinctively.
They raised their bows, conjured arrows of pure holy light, and released them.
The arrows streaked through the air with perfect accuracy.
They struck her—
And disappeared.
Not because they had missed.
They were absorbed.
The holy light vanished into her body as though her darkness devoured radiance itself.
There were no wounds.
No burns.
No marks of any kind.
The little girl tilted her head.
Then...
She began to cry.
Her voice was broken.
Distorted.
It echoed unnaturally, as though countless whispers were layered over one another.
"Nobody wants me..."
She sobbed softly.
"Nobody wants me..."
"Nobody wants me..."
Her words spread through the battlefield like poison.
Several Holy Knights faltered.
