A while later.
The ground shuddered with the weight of two hundred undead thrashing against their bindings.
Rusted blades screeched, skeletal arms clawed, and hollow eyes burned with hunger as they writhed in one heaving, monstrous pile.
Clara's soft hum shook as she pressed her palms forward, her vibration barriers trembling like glass under strain.
"Hh—hold steady… just—don't let them scatter." Her voice was calm, but her knuckles were white, her forehead shining with sweat.
Jessy gritted her teeth, metal bands straining as the undead pressed against them. "Two hundred plate sevens… and we're just holding them? This is insane."
Sparks flew from her barriers as one corpse slammed its head repeatedly against the metal wall, denting it with every blow.
Beside them, Lia's vines writhed and thickened, each thorn straining as the undead tore chunks of greenery apart.
The princess's lips quivered, but she didn't let go.
