Blood dripped from the makeshift blade that Pin had made, with labored breath, he surveyed his surroundings, death seen from every crevice within his sight. Some with eyes rolled back, face scrunched up in pain, frozen like a doll, arms and legs stiffened up, most of the bodies already going into rigor mortis. Each step that Pin took in the surrounding area was fleshy, blood sticking to his feet as the rancid smell of iron filled the air. The unsteady breath of the girl being carried in one arm unsettled Pin, but he fully believed he had no choice to do what he did. Pin stood, trying to get some semblance of energy back after going on a m******e before a faint rumbling could be felt beneath his feet. Pin spun on his heel, looking in the direction of the rumbling, a collection of knights at
