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Before the Guard commander, he saw the Undead army kill his men and also watched as they joined its ranks, swelling its army with the defenders that had once sworn to defend. 

This was a real morale damper. This could not be helped. Seeing their brothers and sisters whom they had called a part of their blood only moments ago become lifeless walking dead with Purple glowing eyes was a venom that poisoned their zeal to battle. 

Some of them even hesitated attacking their previous comrades forgetting the fact that they had now passed on. 

However, having life, blessed with memories was the curse of the living that hunted these guards. After all, how does one raise a hand on one's own brother?

Only a few older Werewolves of more veteran experience were able to hold their own. However, it was not enough. 

Initial, their numbers had been in the hundreds against the millions that were the undead. However, they had not been unfazed then. The Giant Shadow Werewolves were strong people. And with the extra boost from the blood of the primordial beast, one Werewolf guard should well be able to handle at least two hundred of the undead. 

At least that was how the mathematics was supposed to occur. However, battles could be very very fluid, and depending on the kind of commander, battle results could change drastically.

for example, the Undead commander, noticing that the humans were far easier pickings for the Werewolf army decided to push the mutated beasts with hard shells forward first in other to weaken them and cool off their heated morale. 

After which, the undead commander allowed them to face the weaker creatures amongst its ranks. 

Till this moment, it had not commanded the Giant worm that it stood upon to attack. 

The guard commander looked all around him and his heart hurt at the sight of his comrades' fall. He could not take it anymore. he had to relieve them of this burden. 

He turned towards the city far off in the distance. "I know you can FUCKING hear me! Are you going to wait till we are all slaughtered before you make your entrance?" 

Those words were seemingly to the wind, and might as well have been. After all, for a few seconds, there was no reply which made the other guards think maybe their commander was starting to run mad. 

However, there was suddenly a sonic boom that seemingly shot through the sky. It parted the very air as if to separate the very fabric of space. 

It was night time and seeing at such a time was truly difficult. However, it was clear as day for the Werewolves. 

And for a brief moment, whether it was the undead or the Werewolves, they all paused and turned their heads in the direction of the incoming projectile. 

After all, they could all feel the strong radiating energy that came from it. 

It was like that moment in the day when a person stepped under the sun and had no choice but to subconsciously turn to the sun in anger at its hot rays. 

The Blazing energy that radiated from the projectile was undeniably incredible. 

However, just as it was above the battlefield, it came to an abrupt halt. A feat that should have been impossible considering the kind of speed that it had come in the first place. 

Its arrival sent shockwaves to the surroundings that practically broke the brittle bones and burst the heads of some of the weaker undead creatures. 

The person who had just arrived hovered in mid-air. He had large broad wings like that of a bat that stretched on both ends for at least twenty meters. 

Even though he had wings, they did not flap, which made his hovering in the mid-air a practical miracle. 

He had two identical heads, an upper body of profound cuts and definition well visible underneath his singlet. with his short pants that revealed his well-muscular lower body, he looked more like a scar in the night sky than a savior.

This was none other than Clawed.

The Guard commander looked at the hovering figure in awe. He was of the higher echelon of the City of Milk and Honey and had access to certain files that the common man would never lay their eyes on. 

To hover in the air was not just a skill. It was a gift. A gift that only those from the rank of Great Demon and above could enjoy.

To hover in the air was the significance of extreme levels of mastery over cosmic energy.

Clawed might have dropped in rank from the first rank of the Great Demon to the peak of the Deep Demon rank, but that did not mean that he had lost the mental achievements that he naturally gained on entering the realm.

Clawed looked down at the chaos happening below like a god observing the feeble struggles of mortals. 

"Take your men back. I will not be held accountable for the loss of life if you are within the range of the battle!" Those words had been said in an order without leaving room for complaint. 

The arrival of Clawed in the air made the undead commander smile, showing its rotten teeth. 

This made Clawed frown. If he did not know any better, he would have sworn that this Undead commander was glad to see him.

"You heard him! Everybody, fall back!! The Guard commander gave the order as he punched his way through in a desperate attempt to make an escape route. 

Clawed waved his hands in a sword slash that literally crushed many of the creatures obstructing their path in order for the Werewolves to escape.

(Author's note: join privilege. We are twenty chapters ahead, guys)