Countless small undead, about the size of a face and resembling spiders, leaped out of the sphere of corpses and instantly covered the city walls.
These small, spider-like undead creatures move swiftly, with a sharp mouthpart on their abdomen and a long parasitic limb as their tail.
They swarmed towards the Crusaders.
An elf used its flamethrowing ability to burn dozens to death, but one escaped and was gutted alive. In the next few seconds, it was torn to pieces by the swarming spider undead.
Seeing this, Ackerman, enraged, shot his last arrow into a bone spike necromancer climbing the city wall. Then he drew his sword and stabbed a necromancer who had climbed the shield wall, knocking him down.
The snake sisters approached the small horde of undead and used their petrification abilities to relentlessly kill these little creatures that posed a significant threat to the Crusader's rear.
But to their despair, more and more corpse orbs were spat out from the mouths of the fortress necromancers, falling in swathes across the defensive line.
Just as Ackerman was still fighting hard, a hand suddenly grabbed him.
Ackerman turned around and saw that the other person was actually the Elf High Shaman.
Slamming a fireball onto the still-on-the-ground corpse orb, amidst the swirling necromancer debris, the elven high shaman shouted to Ackerman, "Take the wounded Crusaders! Retreat!"
Ackerman, sword in hand, fought fiercely against the ever-growing number of undead on the city walls, shouting, "I'm not leaving!"
The elven high shaman grabbed Ackerman's shoulder, staring intently into his eyes, and said, "You are their commander! You have a responsibility to protect the wounded!"
Ackerman shook his head vigorously and said, "If I leave, who will be responsible for stopping them?!"
The high shaman stepped aside, gesturing for Ackerman to look towards the city wall.
Not far away, the orc high shaman, having removed his robes, wielded a battle axe in each hand, slaughtering the undead like a whirlwind.
Holding a stone pillar taller than a person, the minotaur shaman was no longer as docile as before. He swung the pillar like a madman, smashing a group of undead who had climbed the city wall into pieces.
Further away, there was a werewolf high shaman tearing at the bone-spiked undead, and a dwarf high shaman throwing Molotov cocktails...
Every member of the Shaman Association came to the front lines, fulfilling their oath to the Dragon God with their blood and lives.
The elven high shaman gripped Ackerman's face tightly with both hands, forcing him to look into his eyes: "Listen, listen! There is still a last line of defense in the royal city. Take all the remaining Crusaders and get there to hold it!"
Ackerman's eyes blurred with tears, and he nodded vigorously.
The high elven shaman smiled and said, "Don't worry, the Dragon God will not abandon us; he will eventually return to save us."
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