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"They're breaking through the western gate," a scout cried out, stumbling over his own feet.

As the first wave of demons scaled the walls, Granger stepped into the void. He didn't fall; he descended. With a flick of his wrist, the first five shots rang out—a staccato rhythm that shattered the skulls of the lead invaders. But the sixth shot was different. 504216_520787

Here is a story bringing the lore of that identifier to life: The Siege of the Monastery "They're breaking through the western gate," a scout

Granger didn't look at him. He adjusted the slide of his violin-case-turned-cannon. He wasn't just a soldier; he was the . While others fought with faith and steel, Granger fought with the rhythm of death itself. The Final Movement With a flick of his wrist, the first

The bells of the Monastery of Light didn't ring for prayer that morning; they rang for war. High above the marble spires, the sky had curdled into a bruised purple, torn open by the encroaching Abyss.