The desolate earth was quickly swallowed by the undead. From above, it looked like a swarm of tiny black dots, surging madly toward Draconis Citadel like a living tide.
Everywhere you looked—zombies. Vicious, snarling, relentless.
"As long as we take this place, you'll feast on fresh meat and blood!" Gravestone roared, rallying his horde. He'd heard the rumors—Umbradrake had stockpiled a massive herd of livestock inside the Citadel. Enough to feed the entire Zombie Horde for days.
The promise of a real meal sent the starving undead into a frenzy. They charged forward, crazed and fearless, throwing themselves at the walls like waves crashing against a cliff.
Ethan stood at the edge of the battlefield, his expression unreadable. Everything was unfolding exactly as planned.
His squad had spent too long blowing up rocks in the Exile Zone. Now it was time to see if they could actually fight.
Real warriors aren't made in training—they're forged in blood and fire.
