By now, the battle had become less a fight and more a slow drowning.
The ground was slick with blood, the air clogged with screams and smoke, and the team was stretched to its breaking point.
Arrows were gone. Mana was fading. And still, the horde pressed closer.
Jace, the team's archer, no longer had arrows to loose. His quiver hung empty, the strap torn and dragging behind him like a forgotten banner.
A short blade filled his hand now, swinging clumsily, his cheek streaked with blood, breath ragged in his chest.
Beside him, Eryn fought with a fierce determination that contrasted starkly with her usual demeanor. The ornate staff that typically adorned her hand lay dormant, its magic untapped. In her hands, however, a gleaming sword caught the light, its blade sharp and poised for action.
The calm composure she was known for was nowhere to be seen; instead, her expression was a study in intensity, every line of her face etched with a narrow focus.
She was conserving her mana carefully, a strategic reserve for the moment when the battle would demand her full power and unleash the tempest of magic she kept at bay.
Which could be any second.
This meant.
None of them were near the transport vehicles.
None of them noticed when it happened.
As the Rank 2 zombie approached, flanked by several lesser-ranked companions, a sense of unease filled the air. These were no ordinary undead; they were speed-type zombies, their movements quick and erratic.
The horde's edge was teeming with them, and as they slithered forward, their hunched forms propelled with unsettling agility.
The moonlight glinted off their decaying flesh, casting eerie shadows that danced across the ground, amplifying the menacing presence of the advancing horde.
They had reached the largest transport before anyone could react— the one holding the most civilians—and attacked. A few lower-ranked zombies dispatched and held the team as it tried to reach the civilians, while the rank-two zombie ran wild. And began to attack the vehicle
The first scream came a few minutes later.
A woman's voice—sharp, raw, and full of terror and pain.
The Rank 2 zombie had rammed its claws into the truck's steel siding with a snarl that sounded more animal than undead. The metal groaned. Buckled. Tore.
It began ripping its way inside, dragging curled talons down the side of the truck, carving out an opening wide enough for its grotesque form.
The vehicle had been sealed for safety—locked from every angle—but the locks meant nothing against brute strength and undead resolve.
Inside, the screams grew louder.
Panic. Desperation. The helpless sound of people with no mana, no weapons—just bare hands and fear.
The team surged forward with renewed desperation, every blow from sword or spell fueled by something more primal now—rage, fear, urgency.
They were exhausted. Bleeding. Some were barely standing.
But they had to get there.
They had to.
The zombie pulled apart the last strip of metal and slid its grotesque body into the opening, its elongated head twisting toward the panicking norms inside.
Then—
A flash.
A sound.
Boom. Blood.
—-
The battlefield reels from the Rank-two zombie's head bursting, black gore dripping down the truck's torn steel.
The horde's snarls choke the air.
Then it happened
A ripple surges through the zombies, as half the zombies that were running over. Dozens of ranks, ones and twos, broke off, charging backward toward a section of the city, as if trying to gang on an unseen predator.
The team, dazed by what just happened, stood surrounded, confused.
But they didn't have time to think.
As some zombies were still surrounding them, claws scraping closer, with hunger in their eyes.
Ethan's axe hovers, his breath ragged, eyes scanning the chaos. 'What's just happened?'
Kara, her red staff dim, jabs her comm-link, voice sharp. "Mary, do you have an eye on what's going on? Is it reinforcement from the Citadel?"
Static hisses. Silence stretches, heavy as the smoke.
She presses again, urgency spiking. "Mary, what the hell is going on? Do you have eyes on what is going on?"
The horde lurches nearer, teeth glinting in the firelight.
The Custodian took a deep breath before speaking, her voice strained and crackly. "You will hardly believe me right now. There's no time for explanations. He'll reveal himself any moment, but you must be ready." Her typically bold demeanor wavered, revealing her uncertainty.
The group couldn't understand what she meant.
"He?" the Vice Captain repeated, but before she could finish—
Boom.