Maike watched in horror as Kaldrek barely dodged the acidic spit of an undead Venomarx, the venom sizzling where it struck the ground. The monstrous creatures had already been dangerous, but now, empowered by the crimson veins, they had beco even deadlier.
She longed to intercept the ritual, to put an end to whatever dark magic was fueling the undead, but no one could get through. The vampires were hidden among the swarms of undead, lurking just behind the frontlines, waiting for the perfect mont to strike. Worse still, an undead red wyvern circled high above the jungle, its empty eyes burning with eerie crimson light, guarding the very place where the ritual had to be unfolding.
Screams echoed through the battlefield as so warriors collapsed, impaled by jagged blood spears fired by the vampires. These attacks targeted the heavy warriors, those unable to fight from the safety of the wall, warriors forced into lee combat. Many managed to block or dodge, but others were wounded or killed instantly, their lifeblood mixing with the already soaked battlefield.
On the walls, mages and archers rained down attacks in an effort to support the lee fighters. But it was becoming increasingly difficult—the undead refused to fall, even when struck multiple tis. Maike’s breath caught as she witnessed a hyenadon’s head explode from a well-placed spell, only for the crimson energy snaking through the battlefield to pull the pieces back together. It was as if these creatures were no longer truly alive—re puppets, dancing to the will of the ritual’s master.
So undead still fought with mindless aggression, but others… others were disturbingly intelligent. They launched attacks against the shield protecting the wall, deliberately obscuring the sightlines of the archers and spellcasters. This forced the lee warriors to take on more pressure than ever before, and more and more undead began slipping through the ring of destruction created by the fortress’s defensive weapons.
From ti to ti, vampires joined the fray, engaging in the lee battle—but they retreated just as quickly, avoiding prolonged fights. So of the weaker ones fell, slain by skilled warriors or empowered arrow shots, but Maike knew the truth.
The real threats were still holding back.
She narrowed her eyes. The strongest vampires hadn’t even entered the battle yet. They stood in the distance, watching. Waiting. Patient. Calculating. Maike clenched her fists. She was certain of their plan—they were waiting for the first breach in the wall. The mont that happened, they would strike at full force.
And that breach was only a matter of ti.
The undead numbers were overwhelming. Even as warriors rotated out, replacing the fallen or injured, it wouldn’t be enough. They couldn't commit all their forces yet—if they clustered too many warriors at the front, they would only get in each other’s way. Instead, reinforcents had to hold back, waiting for the inevitable mont the walls crumbled.
Maike refused to let it co to that. She barked orders, directing fighters to support their struggling comrades, ensuring that the front line held as long as possible.
But no matter where she looked, there was death.
Pure carnage.
Blood soaked the ground. Explosions tore apart the battlefield, sending chunks of undead flying. The air reeked of decay and burning flesh, the screams of the dying blending into the chaos.
She had sent multiple ssages to Thalion.
But there had been no response.
Her jaw tightened. What the hell was that madman doing?
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