The Legend of Fatality

Sir Raymond and Viscount Melson struggled to run to the huge iron gate that stood at the bottom of the tower, which was the only entrance to the tower. Behind them, they could hear the sound of a large group of zombies awkwardly climbing up the stone mound with the tower. Although some of their companions failed in their pursuit of these two knights, hundreds of zombies have survived.

Fortunately, the unexpected and unnatural speed that these undead creatures suddenly showed seemed to have weakened, and their pursuit of these two knights became a stable, ruthless stagger. But even so, it is only a matter of time before the tireless undead creatures catch up with the horseless knights.

If the knights can enter the tower in time, they still have a silver lining. But when the two men approached the tower, they found it easier said than done. The oat rod that had long been outside the tower was arguing fiercely with the guard on the other side of the iron gate. The mute man looked out from a small window in the middle of the gate, staring intently at the oat straw, studying how he got here.

"How do I know if you are an associate of those monsters?" The guard asked, asking for confirmation. "A spy wanted to slip into the tower so he could kill the honorable lady?"

Oatmeal's hand hit the hard door heavily, and he had done this several times before. "We have already talked about this!" He cursed. "You looked carefully at my neck. Does it look like the monster bit me?"

The guard shook his head. "Maybe that monster doesn't need to bite you. Maybe you are working for him and earning some money. There are many poor worms who will do worse things with less money."

"I'm going to do something even worse for you!" The oatmeal barked, hitting the door again with his hand, and making the door rattle. He turned his head and glanced hopefully at Sir Raymond and Melson, who were running towards the door. "If you don't believe me, maybe you will believe my nobleman," the farmer announced. Facing Raymond, he gestured towards the door. "Please tell this idiot why we are here."

"We have to go in and see the female prophet." Raymond ran to the door and gasped. "Open this door and take us to see your mistress."

The guard sneered at him and mocked him. "How do I know you are a real knight?" He continued to ask. "It's strange that those monsters made you march here." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "How do I know you are not monsters?" He stepped back from the window. "Let me see your neck," he commanded in horrified voice.

Viscount Melson turned his head and watched the first zombies chasing him climb to the top of the mound. Their brief respite was almost over. "Look, we are friends," he growled at the guard. "But if you don't open that door, we will soon become a pile of slaughtered slaughter!" Viscount Melson shook his head helplessly. "Ask your archers if we belong to the army of the Duke of Blood Eagle!" He shouted. "If we are Dehua, don't you think they will shoot us with arrows before we reach this door?"

Sir Raymond also turned from the door and looked back at the zombies who climbed to the base of the tower. "Yes, you are right." He said to Viscount Melson. "But why don't they shoot arrows at the **** zombies?"

The three men who risked their lives across the battlefield suddenly felt a little uneasy. Viscount Melson put his face on the small window on the door.

"Something must have happened," he said to the guard. "There's something wrong with the magic tower!" Just as he spoke, a harsh scream reverberated in the guardhouse, and a deafening wail made people feel horrified. The guard stared at the ceiling in horror, not knowing what happened in the hall above.

The blood on the face of Viscount Melson disappeared. His body was shaking. "I know the voice." He mumbled, not paying attention to anyone who heard him. It was this scream that foreshadowed the Duke of Blood Eagle to attack Lancaster Castle. Wailing for the banshee.

"What is this?" Raymond asked, noticing the fearful expression on the face of the elderly nobleman.

Viscount Melson ignored him, but faced the guard. "Let me in, man! I tell you, I know what was released in the tower!"

The guard looked back at Viscount Melson, and he was shocked. On the small high ground near the bottom of the tower, twenty zombies had climbed the **** and slowly shuffled towards the door. Three people were trapped on the other side of the door. The knights could hear the crunching of dry bones rubbing against each other, the loose armor against the roar of rotting flesh, the dripping of unclean liquid when the organs broke. As the zombies advanced, they awkwardly raised their coarse spears and rusty broad swords, presenting a trapped person with a fence made of wood and sharp iron.

Raymond and the oat rods left the door. The two wielded their weapons and prepared to meet the heavy army. Viscount Melson continued to knock on the door, trying to motivate the frightened guard to take action . The banshee's wailing came from the tower again, penetrating the frightened man. The guard leaped towards the door, slammed the heavy bolt back, and pulled the heavy beam down.

As soon as the door opened, Viscount Melson stepped forward. The oatmeal hurried behind him, and Sir Raymond was at the end, behind. The three men slammed into the door as soon as they entered the guard room, hitting the door against the faces of the oncoming zombies. One of the rotten zombies' hands was caught in the crack of the door that was slammed shut, the rotten fingers scattered on the floor, and the edges of the closed door cut them off.

The door slammed shut. The knights continued to press it with the weight of the armor, and the oat rods and guards moved the heavy beam back into place, and beat back the six bolts locked on the stone wall.

"I ... I'm sorry, my lord." The guard apologized. When the oat rod inserted his fist into the man's stomach, the oat rod gave an answer on behalf of all of them.

"We're in, what now?" Asked Oatmeal, who avoided the disgusting guard and turned away from him.

The terrible scream of the Banshee rang again, piercing everyone's soul. Like countless nightmares, their bones tremble with terrible sounds.

"Let's go there and see what's making that sound," said Viscount Melson, his tense expression in his eyes telling his companions that he would not tolerate doubt.

Sir Raymond nodded and agreed. "What do we do when we find it?"

Viscount Melson turned his left hand to make the light flash on the tip of the sword.

"We let it stop," he said.