Depends

As the explosion's echoes faded, Mark emerged from the smoke-shrouded house, Lucia's limp form cradled in his arms.

The bright night light emitted by the moon began to shine clearly after the ceasing of the storm.It cast an eerie glow on the scene, illuminating the carnage that littered the grounds.

Mark's Crusaders awaited him outside, their faces etched with concern and curiosity. With a nod, they presented him with the fallen comrades, their lifeless bodies strewn like puppets cut from their strings.

Mark's voice rang out, clear and commanding, "Arise!" The air seemed to vibrate with an otherworldly energy as the deceased warriors stirred, their wounds knitting together with an unnatural speed.

The leader's eyes widened in awe, his query tumbling forth, "Who was the one you carried out, Mark?"

"A human," Mark replied, his tone low and enigmatic. The leader's surprise was palpable, his words spilling out in a rush, "A human? Living among demons? What sorcery is this?"

Mark's gaz