Desperately plea to her patron

"GAHH! - GET IT OFF ME!"

One of the villagers yelled out as he dodged the rabid bites from the undead pinning him to the ground.

Annette was about to push herself up from the stonework and look for a weapon when an arrow shot through the side of the zombie's head. The Gameskeeper quickly turned as an undead utilised the distraction to clamber over the wall next to him. Skilfully, he pulled the next arrow from his quiver and plunged it into the creature's eye, snapping it in half as it fell backwards, tumbling back into the horde. His immediate attention changed to the arrow barrel nearby to replenish his emptying quiver.

"Fucking hell... - shit! I'm running out of arrows here, Captain! We can't take them out up close unless we thin them out more!"

"Aye, I hear you Colin. We don't need to take them all out before the young master returns, we just need to keep them from razing the rest of the fuc-"

*SHHLK*

Time passed at a glacial rate as a trail of red droplets followed one of the militia men as their body flew backwards. Old metal armour clattered against the stone floor as a short-spear jutted up from the torso of the unmoving man. The Guard Captain, Gameskeeper and Annette all looked back in horror towards the horde to see the tall, female zombie slowly approaching. The Captain barely started his expletive when the silver-haired woman opened her mouth and, like in the alleyway earlier, started communicating with the creatures, however this time her snarls were significantly louder.

Blocking the sonic **** from his ears, the Gameskeeper looked over the barricade to see an odd number of glowing purple eyes staring back at him from a series of rotten faces. Yellow spittle flew from their feral mouths as they grew to be even more aggressive than they already were.

Several undead piled over the walls at a time now as the militia were quickly pushed back from their lines, lacking any real chance to reclaim them.

"F- Fall! - argh! - FALL BACK!" screamed the Captain through the intense fighting.

Annette began to help the injured man to his feet for the retreat, before a zombie roughly tackled them both to the ground, crawling to the Priestess and tearing at her clothes, scratching the skin underneath. The undead seemed stronger than any she had encountered so far. Its purple eyes glowed brightly as she could only assume the nearby zombies were empowered by some sort of magic, unquestionably casted by the female zombie.

Rancid saliva rained across her wincing face as she reeled from the ****, feebly attempting to push the creature off her. Her adrenaline proved no match for whatever now fuelled this monster as she began to tell herself that this was it - she had reached the end of the road. If, on the off chance this new kind of feral behaviour didn't lead to her ****, it was definitely going to lead to her defilement.

Annette's eyes glazed over in defeat as she prepared for whatever intrusion was coming, whether it was teeth or something more depraved. Her mind raced with vivid imagery.

"HEY! Get the fuck off her you piece of shit!"

*THWACK*

Using his good arm, the injured man laying on his stomach nearby drove his hatchet down into the rotten flesh of the zombie, cutting like a hot knife through butter. He roared with all his strength as he pulled the undead back towards him, axeblade slicing through the slimy flesh and catching on bones. Annette's eyes refocused as the moonlight shone down onto her where her assailant used to be.

Time stood still as she looked around at the chaos.

The injured man held the handle of the hatchet out, catching the bite of the zombie he pulled from his healer. The Guard Captain struck at the ankles of the zombies, attempting to slow the advance before catching a wild strike in the side of his helmet from a blind spot once covered by a now-felled militia man. Using every remaining arrow, the Gameskeeper shot as many undead pouring through the large holes in the wall as he could, ambitiously hoping to block it with bodies, until he reached back to find an empty quiver. Familiar claws reached up over the wall as silver hair came into view.

Following the similar scenes across the length of the defences, Annette's eyes caught the statue of Erena. With retreat being impossible against the enhanced speed and ferocity of the dead, If she had any power to influence the dire situation she and the defenders of Farfield found themselves in, it would start there.

She raced over to the base of the statue, placing her hands together in prayer.