It wasn't long after the remnants of their circle became joined that things started to intensify. Boarding up the doors and windows at ground level was becoming tricky business, as materials for the task were only finite while the undead at their doorsteps were seemingly endless. Setzer, Terra, Locke, and Celes ran from one wing of the castle to the other, fighting tirelessly to nail down, jam in, strap tight, and shove firm whatever piece of flotsam or furniture the Figaro brothers had on hand for the occasion. But no matter how secure things appeared, the doors to the castle never ceased to jostle or be pulled apart by the masses. At one point, Sabin made the petition to start tearing apart the gambler's airship for extra resources.
"If you so much as disturb one splinter of that ship," he warned, "I'll feed you to those things myself."
An hour passed, then two. Sweat beaded from their brows as cabinets and bed frames, bookshelves and tables, every imaginable and moveable odd and end had its place at each of the main foyers. When the last article had been moved and the last window was timbered up, all six of them slumped back-on against one of the barricades. Though squat together shoulder-to-shoulder and drained of most of their strength, they held their breath. The air got thinner and candlelight grew dimmer each time they inhaled. Best to conserve what air was left.
"Well," the king uttered, "So far, we've managed to get ourselves marooned in a castle . . . in the middle of a desert . . . surrounded on all sides by millions of undead cannibals . . . and we have virtually no weapons to fight them all with."
Terra sighed and sopped up the sweat running down around her neck. "By that, can we assume that there's some good news to look forward to?"
Edgar weeded through the desk which had been recently relocated from his study, only now able to check the mail which had been delivered earlier that morning. "Well, apparently , I just saved fifteen percent on my car insurance by switching to Geico. That's good news, right?"
Eyes blinked and heads shifted as the king resealed the envelope. When at last he picked up on the piercing stares given to him from his friends, he handed out the envelop to them.
"Hey, it's true. See for yourself."
Sabin knocked the paper out of his hands. "You're a real card, brother."
"And he needs to be dealt with," Setzer added.
And then, disaster. All six of them gave a start as one of the windows down at the far end of the chamber buckled and caved in. The clamor of undead grunts and snarls slammed at the walls of the castle, and each of them were back on their feet in an instant. They all knew that if even one door or window was breached . . .
"Keep 'em busy! Don't let 'em get in!" Edgar ran for the stairwell, gesturing to Sabin as he went. "Bro, grab one of those frames and make for the window. I'll be back in a second."
"Ed–!"
"Two seconds!"
Sabin sighed, his muscles still knotted and head still smarting from the crate he had lifted earlier. Nonetheless, he did as his brother asked.
The others already looked to have been overwhelmed right from the start, with hundreds of white-eyed, blood-soaked faces reaching in with cold, dead hands for something fleshy to gnaw upon. Terra and Setzer were the first to react, grabbing several chairs from out of the blockade and shoving them out through. But the strain of resistance was overpowering, doing little against a flank of zombies that was over a million strong!
"I . . . can't hold 'em!"
Terra shoved with all her might, but to no avail. "Locke!"
"I know! Cel!" He gestured with his chin. "The swords on the wall! Grab 'em, quick!"
A hilt was in his hand before he knew it, and neither wasted any time. Thief and general shoved themselves in between the gambler and esper girl, thrusting out and arching wide with twin sets of ornamental blades. Only a handful of attacks found any purchase, one or two eye sockets getting punctured and the occasional jaw getting impaled. For the most part, however, all they were able to do was scrape or cut away portions of their faces, tearing the unfocused creatures rictus grins of red. Terra squinched beneath the fearsome sight. It was doing more harm than good.
"Out of the way! Get out, watch out!"
Swiftly and mercifully, the horrid display vanished as Sabin buried the grisly scene beneath the spare bed frame. Edgar was back, leaping down over the stairwell with a faded duffle slung over one shoulder. Out from the burlap sack he pulled a fearsome looking pneumatic drill, with a bit so large that Terra fell back on her haunches while trying to secure the frame to the wall.
"Terra!" The gambler grimaced as the sudden loss of manpower had him shoving outwards twice as hard. "Terra, NO!"
A rotted limb seized her by the foot, followed in quick succession by a second and then a third. She screamed as over a dozen hungry hands took hold and towed her off towards the carnage. Celes took a chance, forsaking her own safety and everyone else's by trying to snatch her friend out from the snapping jaws of death. "Grab my hand!" she yelled, struggling with Terra's petite wrists before finally securing a grip. Edgar's macabre tool whirred into life as Celes yanked Terra back inside - pulling three of the creatures inside in the process!
"Move it!" the king growled, swooping in for the kill.
With that, he plunged the gyrating bit down into the first cadaver's throat. Its snarl rattled in its neck as black ichor spattered the king's vest. And yet, the creature seemed not to care - its hands still pawing at Edgar's face for some morsel of flesh. The other two had already recovered their vertical base and continued on after the two women. Celes heel-kicked one while Terra shoved the other head first into a stone petition. Ever shuffling and groaning, they pressed on - unfazed.
"Step the fuck back!" Celes roared, putting up her fists as though ready to fight it hand-to-hand.
But the opportunity never came. The next thing anyone knew, the air was filled with the stench of corpse blood and gunpowder. When the smoke cleared, all three of the creatures lay dead a second time at their feet with fresh bullet holes etched into each skull. Sabin, Setzer, and Locke peered across the hallways, still back-on against the constantly quaking bed frame. Covered in gore, Terra, Celes, and Edgar did the same.
"Dante," Edgar snapped, eyes tinted red as he regarded the silver-haired, half-clothed half-demon with contempt. "When did you get out of your cell, and how did you find those weapons of yours?"
"You're welcome," was Dante's only reply to the hostile monarch, spinning a set of dual pistols around on his fingers before tucking them snuggly into their holsters. "Now then, what say we crank this sucker up a notch!"