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Outside the kingdom…
The night air was thick with damp mist and the coppery scent of blood. Between the tall grass and scattered trees, the squads worked in tight formation — moving low, keeping to the shadows.
Tomas crouched beside a hollow log, his dagger slick with dark gore. He raised two fingers to signal. Kellin eased down beside him, nodding. A few paces away, Eren and Jarek silently pulled an undead corpse into the brush, its throat neatly opened.
"Still holding the line, huh?" Jarek whispered, wiping his short axe on the dead walker's tattered cloak.
"Barely," Eren muttered. "These bastards don't know when to stay down."
A low rumble rolled through the air. At first, it sounded like distant thunder.
Then — it struck again, louder.
Ellis, crouched behind a rock pile, glanced up. "What the hell was that?"
"Not natural thunder," Tomas muttered lowly, eyes narrowing.
In the distance — beyond the kingdom walls — a flicker of blue light pulsed. A streak of lightning burst over the village rooftops.
"Crap, something's wrong." Kellin hissed.
The ground beneath them trembled faintly. And like a switch had been thrown, the undead nearby reacted. Their heads snapped up, their crooked necks cracking as they let out low, guttural snarls.
"They heard it," Eren said through gritted teeth.
The walkers' sluggish shuffle turned into quick, stumbling charges. Their rotted bodies surged forward in a disorganized wave, zeroing in on the squads' hidden positions.
"Shit — they're quicker now," Jarek cursed, stabbing another one clean in the jaw as it lunged past.
A sudden roar from down the eastern side drew all eyes. The faceless creature — towering and pale — moved faster now, its unseeing face aimed straight for the sealed kingdom gates. It stepped directly onto one of the concealed tripwires.
Boom!
The explosive trap detonated beneath it, sending a blast of dirt, fire, and undead limbs flying. Half a dozen of the walkers near it were thrown aside, their bodies torn apart.
But the faceless one didn't fall.
It staggered, parts of its flesh burned, yet it kept walking.
"Gods…" Ellis breathed.
"Fall back!" Tomas barked. "East line's blown — regroup near the ridge!"
Squad after squad echoed the call.
"Fall back, fall back!"
Undead poured into the gap left by the explosion, fast now, too many.
On the top ridge of the hill, Varun lay prone, his scope already sweeping the kingdom. Through the lens, he saw the burning rooftops of the village, the streaks of lightning from the flying serpent, and a massive blue shape gliding lower.
"Damn it… that thing breached the village," he muttered to himself.
He shifted the scope down to the valley where the squads fought.
He saw Tomas and the others retreating through the trees, fighting as they moved, squads breaking formation, shouting over the growing chaos.
"Fall back! Regroup at the back line!"
Varun gritted his teeth, grabbing the oil-soaked arrow from his quiver.
"Come on… hold it there."
He struck flint to the arrowhead. Flames caught.
Drawing his bow, he aimed high — the fire arrow streaked into the night sky, a lone spark against the dark clouds.
It arced and landed in a dry pine tree by the eastern flank. The fire caught fast, licking up the branches, spreading downwind.
"Signal's up!" someone shouted.
The firelight reflected off the glazed eyes of nearby undead. Some caught fire, staggering in the glow, shrieking in agony.
"Hold formation!" Tomas roared, even as he cut down another charging corpse.
"Back to the east break!" Kellin shouted.
Varun didn't wait.
He grabbed his bow, sprinted down the slope, staying low as the undead horde stormed through the burning tree line.
"We need to move! That faceless thing's heading for the gates, and if it breaches—" Varun said.
"We know," Tomas grunted, joining him with Kellin, Ellis, Eren, and Jarek not far behind. "We'll fall back to the old watch trench. Regroup squads there. Hold until Galen's men reinforce."
"Or until we're dead," Eren muttered grimly.
The fire behind them roared higher as the serpent's lightning struck again inside the kingdom, turning more of the night into a battlefield of smoke, fire, and death.
But the squads kept moving.
Silent when they could be.
Fierce when they had to be.
And still fighting to hold the line.
"Toward the high gates — move!" Tomas bellowed, slashing down another undead. "Forget the ridge — to the gates!"
Kellin was already dragging a wounded soldier up by his collar. "On your feet, damn it — we're not dying out here!"
Explosions rattled the ground. More undead stumbled into scattered traps.
"Watch the blasts!" Eren shouted.
From the high ridge, Varun fired one last arrow before vaulting down the slope.
"Undead closing left flank!" Ellis warned.
"Cut a path! Straight to those high gates — don't stop!" Tomas called.
They sprinted through the broken trees. Squads 1 through 7 bled together, blades and arrows flashing.
Atop the battlements, eight defenders that had watched earlier, now braced to support the squads below. Four musketeers and four archers, including the hooded archer with the battered brass telescope.
The young musketeer with dark medium hair, Serah, fired a crisp shot. A corpse dropped in front of Eren. Without pause, she reloaded and fired again.
"Serah!" the red-haired musketeer beside her called. "Left!"
"Got them."
Serah's aim was merciless. Another clean shot. The other musketeers fired in rhythm. The archers loosed arrows, though distance made their aim harder.
A woman archer drew three arrows, one after another, adjusting for a higher arc. The veteran beside her gave a brief nod of approval.
"Parabola shots," he muttered. "Make them count."
She loosed them. Two struck home near Jarek's path, clearing walkers.
"Open the gates!" Tomas shouted.
A lightning strike cracked overhead. The earth shook.
A soldier fell near Kellin. He stabbed the corpse and dragged the man up.
The squads hit the final stretch — a killing ground between trees and gates. Explosions burst in patches. Fire streaked through the grass. The faceless one still lumbered.
"Gate's opening!" Varun shouted.
Serah's musket cracked again. Another perfect kill. She kept firing, eyes sharp.
The guards hauled the injured through. Kellin carried a man. Jarek dragged another.
Squad 7 darted through as the faceless one neared.
"Close it! Now!" Tomas roared.
The gates slammed shut. A massive impact struck.
Inside, squads collapsed.
"Who's left standing?" Tomas gasped.
"All here," Kellin confirmed.
Varun wiped his face. "For now."
On the battlements, the hooded archer lowered his telescope, glancing at his squad.
"Good work," he muttered. He peered through his scope again.
Below, the serpent glided through the village, lightning crackling. He saw townsfolk running toward the evacuation center Galen had ordered earlier.
His stomach tightened.
"Hold position. Do not fire on that serpent. You'll only get yourselves killed. When the time's right — we strike."
Serah exhaled, lowering her musket for a moment, watching the devastation below.
"Understood," the archers and musketeers chorused.
The serpent's shriek echoed, lightning splitting the skies.
The hooded archer kept his scope trained on the creature's massive form, watching the way it moved, the shimmer of its hide, the blue glow of its scales. Anxiety gnawed at him, a knot settling in his chest.
"Not yet," he murmured to himself.
He glanced to the others. "Musketeers, reload and watch those roads. Archers, prepare your next shots — keep them high and wide. Stay sharp. If it comes too close, don't hesitate."
Serah gripped her musket tighter, her knuckles pale against the wood. The temptation to fire at the beast itched in her trigger finger.
"Easy, Serah," the red-haired musketeer muttered beside her.
"I see it," she whispered, exhaling a slow breath.
But she held.
The serpent's shriek faded into the night, but its presence still pressed heavy against the land. The storm above churned, lightning crackling like restless veins across the clouds.
Serah kept her gaze on the village below, the glow of fire flickering across her face. Smoke curled up from half-collapsed rooftops, mingling with mist. Figures still scattered through the narrow streets, running for what cover they could.
"Those people won't make it if that thing circles back," she muttered under her breath.
The red-haired musketeer beside her, Roran, let out a sharp exhale, reloading his musket. "They knew the risk stayin' that late. Galen ordered the evacuation at dusk."
"Doesn't mean it's easy to watch," Mira, the woman archer, murmured nearby, stringing another arrow. Her gaze flicked down the slope, her jaw clenched.
The hooded archer — Leon — kept his scope trained on the serpent. The creature coiled around a scorched market stall, its body thick as a house beam, blue scales reflecting firelight in iridescent flashes. It moved with the steady, awful grace of something ancient and sure of itself.
"Movement near the west fields," Leon called, shifting his scope. "Three… no, four figures. Survivors heading for the drainage culvert."
"Can we cover them?" Mira asked quickly.
"Too far for arrows," one of the older man archers said grimly.
Leon's jaw worked. He hesitated, then looked toward Serah. "Musketeers — steady. No one fires unless I call it."
Serah's lips pressed into a tight line. Her musket remained leveled, eyes narrowed. She could see one of the survivors stumble, two others doubling back to help.
"I could pick one of those bastards off," she murmured, sighting a stray undead lurching after them.
"Hold," Leon ordered.
A beat passed. Then he gave a sharp nod. "Now — two shots only. Serah, Roran."
Serah didn't need telling twice.
Crack.
Her musket fired, the round hitting the corpse square in the skull. It dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.
Roran fired a half-breath later, another walker collapsing.
The survivors bolted for the culvert, vanishing into shadow.
Leon pulled back from his scope, exhaling. "Good work."
A rumble shuddered the air. The serpent lifted its head, slow and deliberate, nostrils flaring. Its gaze swept toward the high hill, yellow eyes narrowing as another pulse of lightning forked across the clouds.
Leon cursed quietly. "Get down."
In one practiced motion, the eight defenders crouched behind the battlement stone. They waited, hearts hammering.
The serpent didn't attack. It turned, its massive body sliding through a row of half-toppled homes, trailing sparks where its scales brushed stone and timber.
For a few more seconds, nothing but the wind and crackle of fire.
Leon eased up, raising the scope again. "It's moving south. Heading for the old river path."
The relief among the defenders was subtle — no cheers, no words. Just a long exhale shared between them.
Inside the gates, Tomas pushed himself off the wall, still panting. "Status?"
"All squads accounted for," Kellin reported hoarsely, checking a wounded man's bandage. "Two dead. Five badly hurt."
"Could've been worse," Eren muttered, swiping blood from his cheek.
Varun strode up, bow slung over his shoulder. "That serpent's still in there."
"We saw it," Tomas said. His gaze lifted to the battlements.
Up top, Serah met his look, giving a small nod. Her musket rested against her shoulder.
Tomas tipped his chin in acknowledgment.
Darrek's voice rang down from the wall. "Gate squads — get those wounded inside the keep! Archers and musketeers, reload and hold position."
"Storm's not done yet," Mira added, stringing a fresh arrow.
Leon's voice dropped low as he spoke to his sharpshooters. "We did good tonight. But this ain't over. That thing will circle back."
"Let it," Serah said quietly, checking her powder. "I'm not done either."
A crack of thunder answered her.
And from the south road, the shadows shifted.
New shapes moving through the mist.
Leon's scope snapped to them. His stomach turned.
"Fresh undead. Dozens," he muttered. "Coming in from the southern slope."
"Sound the bell," Roran muttered.
"No," Leon said, eyes narrowing. "Not yet. If that serpent hears it, we're finished."
He steadied his grip on the scope, locking eyes on the fresh wave.
"Quietly… we hold."
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Now, the squads moved through the narrow alley leading deeper into the kingdom. The air was thick with smoke, the flicker of fire reflecting against the stone walls. Bloodstains trailed behind them, smeared by hurried boots and dragged bodies. The scent of iron clung to their skin.
Some of the injured were already being carried toward the emergency barracks by the side gates. Priests in white cloth, their faces drawn with exhaustion, did what they could. Bandages stained red, whispered prayers over the dying, while others shouted for fresh water and clean cloth.
"We're almost dead," Ellis muttered, walking forward, his voice low and ragged.
"Tch… barely," Kellin grunted beside him, his fingers still clutching a bruised shoulder, sore from dragging a soldier all the way from the treeline to the high gates.
Tomas slowed to a stop as they reached a slight rise between the side streets, giving them a clear, brutal view of the distant village beyond the southern wall.
And there — they saw it.
Atlón Village was in chaos.
Flames licked at rooftops, devouring timber and stone alike. Thick, black smoke billowed into the night sky. The orange glow of burning homes cast sickly light over the cobbled streets, where people scrambled like ants beneath the gliding shadow overhead.
The serpent.
It wove between the rooftops, its scales catching the glow of firelight and reflecting sick blue streaks. Every time it passed, arcs of lightning burst from its body, slamming into houses, shattering wood and tile. One strike split a roof apart, sending flaming debris into the street.
People screamed. Some ran toward the evacuation center's bell tower, others fled into side alleys — anywhere to escape the relentless onslaught.
"The world's ruin is about to begin," Ellis whispered, unable to tear his eyes away.
His words hung in the air, thick as the smoke.
Through the haze and drifting cinders, a figure emerged near the main path — the young kingdom messenger from earlier. Mud-caked and wild-eyed, he waved both arms frantically, calling out over the clamor.
"This way! Evacuation line's open through the south alley! Move, now — move!"
Behind him, Commander Galen strode forward, his crimson cloak scorched at the edges, leading six armored spearmen in front and another six guarding the rear. Their weapons were drawn, faces hard, as they carved a path through the panicked villagers, shielding them from stray undead that strayed too close.
"Keep them moving! To the storehouse!" Galen barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.
The messenger stayed ahead of the line, shouting orders, waving for more survivors to follow.
Then — as he turned his head to scan the nearby streets, his eyes caught movement near the narrow alley by the main gates.
There — the battered squads. Bloodied, smoke-streaked, weapons drawn, moving through the gloom.
His heart lurched. Without wasting a breath, the messenger bolted toward them, mud flying from his boots as he sprinted across the broken courtyard.
"Captain Tomas!" he shouted, his voice ragged from smoke and exhaustion. "The serpent's tearing through the south quarter!"
Tomas stepped forward, frowning. "The evacuation?"
"Not done!" the messenger gasped, breath burning in his throat. "Commander Galen's men are pulling people to the old storehouse behind the forge, but it's bad, sir — real bad. The serpent's cut off the main street. We need squads on the back road before it circles around!"
Kellin let out a grim breath, glancing back at the battered squads. "Half of us can barely stand."
"There's no choice," Tomas said. "Either we move, or they die."
"I'll go," Varun spoke up, stepping forward, his face streaked with soot but his gaze steady.
Ellis gave a crooked grin. "Are you sure, sir? I thought you were staying nice and safe on the wall."
Varun shot him a smirk. "What, and let you guys fly to the heaven?"
Tomas chuckled dryly, clapping Varun's shoulder. "Glad to have you, Captain."
Then Ellis added with a teasing grin, "Damn, you've been called 'captain' twice now — might as well pin the badge on you."
Tomas snorted. "Shut up."
The messenger turned his head then, spotting movement near one of the side alleys by the main gates — dirty, disheveled, chest rising and falling in sharp breaths.
Nathan.
Behind him, the old merchant stumbled along, his face pale, sweat matting his thinning hair.
Tomas froze mid-step. "Nathan?"
Nathan's gaze lifted, his face smudged with soot and streaked with sweat. "I… I was at the market when it happened. I—"
"Damn it, boy," Tomas muttered, striding toward him, a mixture of frustration and relief tightening his voice. "You should've been inside the castle!"
Nathan stiffened, guilt curling in his gut, but stayed quiet.
Varun moved up beside them. "Ellis — get them to the evacuation line. Now."
"Aye," Ellis grunted, already moving toward them.
But as the old merchant slumped against the wall, his face drawn with exhaustion, Nathan grabbed his wrist.
"Wait," Nathan rasped. "Your granddaughter… She said she'd find her own way out — remember? Before the roof came down. We can't leave her out there."
The old man's breath hitched, his lips trembling. "She told you she'd find her own way, didn't she? Gods… when the roof came down, we lost her in the smoke. I tried to find her — but everything was burning."
Nathan turned his head to the burning village behind. "Yeah but... We can't leave her out there."
"You don't have the strength left for this," Tomas said firmly, gripping the merchant's arm. "You're going with the evacuees."
The old merchant's eyes gaze to Nathan, and he gave a faint, broken nod. "Then find her… please."
Nathan nodded in agreement. "Mhm, right."
Ellis nodded grimly. "We will."
He shot a glance to Tomas. "I'll take Nathan with me. Kellin too, if we can spare him."
But Kellin grunted, rolling his shoulder. "Nah — you two go. Makes it lighter if it's just the two of you. You'll cover ground faster that way. Just don't get yourselves lost."
Ellis raised a brow. "Why, you chickening out?"
Kellin smirked faintly. "Someone's gotta help hold the line and get these people moving. Can't leave the old man and the civvies without cover."
Ellis let out a short breath of a grin. "Fair enough."
"You sure about this, kid?" Ellis asked Nathan, sizing him up.
Nathan's jaw tightened. "Of course."
Ellis cracked a faint grin. "Alright then. Stay behind me, kid."
Tomas clapped Nathan's back. "You come back alive, you hear me?"
Nathan nodded.
The old merchant was quickly ushered by Kellin and one of the other soldiers toward the stream of townsfolk fleeing along the main path, where Galen's spearmen — six ahead, six trailing behind — cleared a route through the chaos.
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Above them, on the battlements, the hooded archer, Leon, swept his battered telescope across the burning village. He saw the serpent weaving low between the streets, its massive form scattering people and debris.
"Wait," Leon muttered to the seven standing with him. "Serah, keep steady."
Serah's musket barrel wavered as she stared at the monster's path. Her jaw clenched, sweat beading on her brow.
"I can hit it," she murmured.
"Not yet," Leon cut in sharply. "That thing won't die from a musket round. And if it spots us, we're dead."
The four musketeers and three archers gave grim nods.
The Roran beside her gave a dry chuckle. "Patience, Serah. You'll get your damn shot."
"Hm." Serah whispered, her breath sharp and controlled.
"You'll get your chance," Leon promised, raising the scope again.
Below, the serpent's roar shook the rooftops, lightning splitting the sky as it carved a trail through Atlon.
And in the streets below, Nathan, Ellis, and Kellin plunged into the smoke-choked alleyways — hearts pounding, every step a race against death.
The battle was far from over.
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The market ruins were nothing but scorched timber and broken stone now.
Nathan and Ellis moved quickly, sticking close to the walls, their boots crunching low over burned wood and shattered glass. The air was heavy with smoke, stinging their eyes and filling their lungs with every breath. Embers floated lazily in the haze above them.
They made their way toward the side of the market where Nathan remembered the girl last was—the spot where the burning ceiling collapsed. The charred remains of wooden stalls and stone pillars were still there, but the floor was littered with ash, debris, and the smoldering skeletons of carts and goods.
Nathan peered through a half-collapsed opening in the market's side wall, a burned beam still glowing red along its edge. He ducked through, careful not to brush it, Ellis close behind.
"Stay low," Ellis muttered, eyes darting to the far side. "Smell that?"
Nathan sniffed the air. Something bad. Not just the scent of burned wood and flesh—but the rotten stench of the undead.
They both crouched, careful not to make noise, creeping along the ruined path.
Ahead, something moved.
Shapes in the mist, far inside the wall.
Nathan paused, his breath catching. Through the gaps in the destroyed building, distant figures emerged. Not soldiers. Not villagers.
Lurking things, moving sluggishly through the smoke, their forms too twisted for men. Some emerged from the haze, others clawed from beneath cracked earth as if something had summoned them inside the kingdom's walls.
Ellis followed Nathan's gaze and cursed under his breath. "What the hell…? How'd they get inside?"
"Is it the monster before?" Nathan whispered. "These came through another way."
"Through the mist…" Ellis muttered grimly, fingers brushing the fletching of his arrows. Then he turned again, realizing. "Oh what kind of monster? The faceless?"
Nathan raised a brow. "Yeah. The one I saw when it was raining in the afternoon."
Ellis looked again through the mist. "Okay, okay."
The two crept carefully, avoiding shattered glass and loose stone. Every so often, Nathan would glance over his shoulder.
Then, without warning — a pulse.
A faint shimmer of blue light flickered at his chest.
Nathan's hand instinctively pressed over his shirt, feeling the warmth of the medallion beneath.
It was subtle, almost like a heartbeat against his palm.
A cold sweat broke over him.
Ellis didn't notice, too focused ahead.
Nathan's breath hitched. The pulse came again — stronger this time. It wasn't like before, when it flared in battle. This one… felt like a warning. A presence. A silent, unseen call he alone could feel.
But no time to linger.
They moved again.
Smoke curled around them as they crossed into what remained of the market's eastern section. Burned, hollow houses slumped inward, and the streets were nothing but rubble paths.
Nathan reached the place — or what was left of it.
Where the girl had been trapped.
The roof was caved in, blackened timber scattered. The narrow opening they'd used to escape had crumbled completely.
Nathan's stomach sank. "She's not here."
He scanned the alley where she might've fled. The route was blocked — debris from a collapsed tower now completely sealed off the lane.
Ellis gave a sharp look. "If she got out… where'd she go?"
Nathan swallowed hard. "She told me… she said, 'I'll find my own way.'" He muttered it more to himself.
Ellis narrowed his eyes. "We can't stay here. This place's crawling."
Nathan nodded, but his feet wouldn't move. His chest felt tight, and the medallion's pulse returned — steady, deliberate.
He looked over the burning streets beyond. Somewhere out there.
"Maybe toward the other side," Ellis said, pointing toward a break in the wall. "There's a stone street. It connects the middle of Atlon village. If she made it out, she'd head there."
Nathan agreed silently.
They moved again — careful, quick.
Undead shuffled nearby, drawn by the faint sounds. Their decayed forms twitched in the smoke, jaws clicking in a sick chorus. One stumbled dangerously close, its black eyes scanning the haze.
Ellis gripped an arrow but didn't fire. Noise would bring more.
They slipped through the balcony of a burned inn, crossed a cracked courtyard, and reached the edge of the stone street Ellis spoke of.
It was deathly quiet.
Too quiet.
"Stick close," Ellis warned.
Nathan's heart pounded. Every shadow felt alive.
They checked house after house, dodging small packs of undead. The buildings were charred husks, most of them empty — no girl. No movement. Nothing but ashes and low fire.
"Damn it…" Ellis muttered.
Then — a shape darted in the mist.
Nathan tensed. He pointed. "Over there."
"No splitting up," Ellis growled.
"I know."
They pushed toward a cluster of ruined homes. A burnt garden fence. A crooked well.
A soft sound.
A stone falling.
Nathan reached a crumbling door, hesitated, then pushed it open.
Inside, darkness and smoke.
Then — a hand grabbed him.
Nathan's body reacted, his free hand ready to strike until a voice whispered, "Shh!"
He nearly jumped, but a faint voice whispered, "It's me!"
It was her.
The girl. Alive. Her face was streaked with soot, hair messy, but her eyes were wide but stubborn. She pulled him in quickly, her finger to her lips.
Nathan's heart surged in his chest — both relief and dread.
She pointed toward a corner window.
Through it, the low grunt of a wandering undead passed by.
Ellis slowly appeared a second later at the door, bow drawn.
"Found her," Nathan whispered.
"Thank god," Ellis exhaled.
"You— you're okay," Nathan breathed, a mix of relief and fear in his chest.
"I was hiding," she whispered quickly, tugging his sleeve. "I waited… but the roof fell… I ran. Then I didn't know where you went."
"I told you I'd come back," Nathan said, his voice softer now. He glanced behind him as Ellis stepped up, bow ready.
"I knew you would," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, trying not to look scared but failing a little.
Ellis let out a breath. "Hmm.. Any other big one out there?"
The girl pointed toward the window, her small hand shaking a bit. "There's only a big one out there… near the well."
Ellis peered through the gap, seeing the serpent outside near the well. "I see it. Stay down."
Nathan knelt beside her, noticing that she's in a little bit of pain, his voice low. "You hurt?"
"I— my leg hurts, it's been hit by a falling wood with fire…" she rolled her tunic pant leg, revealing the red marks that were painful to touch. "But I can still run," she sniffled, stubbornly wiping her face again. "I didn't cry."
Nathan gave a small smile. "Good. 'Cause crying is for weak people, right?"
She nodded.
Then — the medallion throbbed again under Nathan's shirt. A strange, cold pulse. He winced slightly, pressing a hand to his chest.
"You alright?" the girl asked, frowning.
"Yeah… it's nothing," Nathan lied quickly, trying to keep his voice calm. "Just… weird."
Ellis narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything.
The girl looked up at both of them. "I know a way out. By the river. The big snake can't go there. It's too narrow."
"You sure?" Ellis asked.
She nodded, wiping her nose. "I always go there to catch small fishes."
Nathan gave a faint grin. "Then lead the way."
The girl smiled for half a second — then her face turned serious again.
"Okay. Follow me."
And just like that, the three of them slipped out, moving low through the wreckage — the weight of fear and smoke clinging to them, but this time, the bond between them a little stronger.
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The three of them moved cautiously through the broken remains of Atlon Village. Smoke hung in heavy, choking clouds around them, the glow of distant fires reflecting in their eyes. The air was thick with ash, and each breath carried the taste of ruin. Every step was a gamble. The ground was uneven — scattered debris, charred wood, splintered stone, and the faint, sickly stench of burned flesh lingering everywhere.
Nathan kept one arm protectively around the young girl's shoulders as they crept between a burnt fence and the remains of a stone well. Ellis moved ahead, crouched low in the tall brush, bow in hand, his eyes sharp and unblinking.
They could hear it — the low, ominous sound of the serpent's body gliding against shattered rooftops. The scrape of its scales against wood and stone. The faint electrical crackle in the air, a static charge prickling their skin.
The river path the girl spoke of was near. But so was the well — and right now, the massive creature had circled back, looming near it like a predator on the prowl.
Nathan kept his voice low as they crouched behind a thick tree with jagged branches. "Stay low. Don't move unless I say."
The girl gave a sharp nod, though her lip quivered, and her small fingers clenched his tunic tightly. She hadn't cried — not yet — stubborn as ever.
Ellis crouched in the tall brush nearby, slowly stringing an arrow, but waiting, not daring to lift his head too high.
Suddenly — a low, wet sniffing.
A single undead wandered close, its hollow, milky eyes scanning the area. Its jaw slack, a wet gurgling sound spilling from its throat as it sniffed the air, drawn by the scent of life.
Nathan's grip tightened on his small dagger. The girl's body stiffened, clutching his arm.
The undead's head snapped toward them.
A shriek burst from its throat — a horrible, piercing sound that made every muscle in their bodies lock up.
"Damn it," Ellis hissed under his breath, preparing to rise and strike.
But before either of them could move, the shriek drew the attention of the serpent.
It spun in the air, its massive body coiling through the air with impossible grace. A thunderous crack split the sky as it darted low, its eyes narrowing in on the source of the sound.
It wasn't the three it saw.
It was the shrieking undead.
The serpent's jaws opened wide, fangs glowing with electric light, and in a flash of crackling thunder, it struck. The creature's massive jaws engulfed the undead in a single, brutal snap, the sound of bone and flesh crunching under its immense teeth.
The serpent landed with a heavy, earth-shaking thud just yards from where they hid.
The three held their breath.
Nathan pressed the girl tighter against the trunk of the scorched tree. Ellis crouched so low in the brush he could feel the cold earth against his chest.
The serpent's head lifted, eyes glowing a pale, unnatural blue. It sniffed the air, lingering near the well, then — after a moment that felt like a lifetime — it turned away, gliding back toward the center of the village.
A quiet, collective breath escaped them.
Ellis exhaled, his fingers finally releasing the tension on his bowstring.
The girl clutched Nathan's arm, wide-eyed but quiet.
"Gods…" Ellis muttered. "That was too close."
They stayed silent for another moment, until the crackling of the serpent's lightning faded a little into the distance.
Nathan crouched low, his voice hushed. "Alright… you said the river path's this way?"
The girl nodded. "It's behind those fallen trees. No one goes there much. Big snake can't follow."
Nathan gave a faint, tight smile. "Um... What's your name?"
She hesitated, blinking at him. "It's Mira."
Nathan nodded. "Alright, Mira. Lead us to it."
She gave a small nod of determination and, keeping low, began weaving through the rubble.
They moved quickly but cautiously, every step calculated, ducking low behind fallen carts, broken walls, and piles of debris. The wind carried the occasional shriek of other undead in the distance.
But then — more shrieks erupted near the well.
Maybe it was the earlier undead's cry… maybe the serpent's strike had stirred the others. But now a fresh pack of undead were staggering out of the ruined homes, drawn to the noise.
Their snarls filled the air.
Nathan's blood ran cold. "Move. Now."
But it was too late — the serpent heard it too.
It whipped around, its tail smashing through a burning home, sending embers flying. Its shriek echoed through the ruins as it dove back toward the well.
And as it moved — its eyes briefly caught the three figures moving through the alley.
Nathan felt a sharp pulse in his chest.
The medallion under his shirt throbbed. Hard.
A flash of cold, searing energy surged through him — like something ancient and watchful had just opened its eyes.
The world seemed to slow.
Even the serpent's roar, the crackle of fire, and the snarls of the undead dulled to a low hum. Everything was quiet… unnervingly still.
Nathan's hand went to his chest, feeling the strange, cold heat of the medallion's glow. A faint blue pulse of light shimmered beneath his tunic.
Neither Ellis nor Mira seemed to notice it.
Another pulse.
Then — as the serpent raised its head, readying to strike, lightning gathering between its jaws, a final, sharp pulse burst from the medallion.
A sphere of radiant blue energy exploded out from Nathan, like a shockwave without sound.
The serpent's eyes widened. Its body recoiled mid-attack as if struck by an invisible force.
The blast sent the massive beast hurtling back, crashing through the burning homes and toppling walls in a storm of ash and shattered timber.
It shrieked in pain and fury, its body writhing as it pulled itself up, flames licking at its scales without leaving a mark.
Its eyes glowed a brighter, unnatural blue.
Nathan staggered back, breath caught in his throat.
Ellis stared in disbelief, not fully understanding what had happened but wasting no time.
"Go — now!"
Undead were closing in.
Ellis loosed an arrow, striking one in the face. He counted in his head — five arrows left.
"Don't stop running!" he barked.
Mira grabbed Nathan's hand. "This way!"
They darted between the wreckage, the snarls of the undead chasing behind them. The serpent, regaining its footing, let out a furious roar and surged after them again.
Nathan's pulse pounded. His chest ached where the medallion lay against his skin, now faintly glowing like a dying ember.
They ran hard.
Ellis fired another arrow — four.
The narrow path led them through the splintered remains of another home and out toward the muddy banks of the river. The cool scent of wet earth mixed with the smoke.
The water shimmered faintly under the dying moonlight, and for the first time, a flicker of hope sparked in Nathan's chest.
The undead snarled behind them.
Ellis turned and fired again — three.
"Keep going!" he shouted.
Mira stumbled over a loose stone, but Nathan caught her, pulling her up without stopping.
The serpent's massive form smashed through the alley behind them, lightning snapping through the air.
They made it to the river's edge.
The bank was narrow, overgrown with reeds and low trees, but wide enough for them to slip along the shore unseen.
"This way — behind the rocks!" Mira whispered, breath ragged.
They dove behind the cover of the large boulders near the water.
The serpent's roar echoed above them.
For a long, terrifying moment, they waited.
Nathan could hear the rasping breaths of the undead nearby, their snarls fading as they lost track of them. The serpent's massive body slithered past the river path, snapping at stragglers.
Ellis wiped sweat from his brow, exhaling hard.
"That was too close."
Nathan leaned back against the rock, his chest heaving. He could still feel the medallion's warmth.
But something else stirred.
.
.
.
Far away — in a place untouched by mortal eyes — the decayed corridors of the Underworld stretched endlessly.
The stone walls were split with age, black roots tangled through the broken cracks. A thousand old bones lay scattered, and the heavy air hung thick with dust and forgotten sorrow.
Lilith moved through it alone, her footsteps soft over ancient stone, the weight of countless years heavy on her shoulders.
Ahead, the twin thrones of judgment loomed in the distance — the eternal seats of Nyxoria and Mortis, ancient keepers of the dead's fate.
As she walked, a voice called behind her.
"Lilith."
She turned.
A tall, withered figure in scorched armor approached. His helm was cracked, a skeletal face peering from beneath the iron. In his gauntleted hand, a rusted halberd rested like an extension of his brittle bones.
It was Commander Veydran, an old name from the long wars of the underworld, and one of the few still allowed to carry their title in death.
"You're summoned... the time is come." Veydran rasped, his voice a hollow, brittle sound. "The Judgements await you at the Gates."
Lilith's jaw tightened. She glanced toward the thrones ahead. "I know."
Veydran hesitated. Something flickered in those empty sockets. A memory of kindness, maybe — or pity.
"You… don't look well," he murmured.
Lilith gave a dry laugh. "Do any of us?"
"Not like this," he replied quietly. "There's something wrong in you, child."
She sighed, the weight in her chest unbearable. "It's the world above. I can feel it. Something's… waking."
Veydran stepped closer, his halberd's tip tapping softly against the stone floor. "You shouldn't delay, Lilith, forget those humans from above. You know the cost. Hades has little mercy left for oathbreakers."
"I'm not breaking anything," she said, her voice fraying. "I'm protecting it. Everything."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then — it happened.
A pulse.
A cold, ancient throb that rolled through her skin like a heartbeat long forgotten.
Lilith staggered slightly "What...?", her hand bracing against a cracked pillar.
Veydran's hollow gaze fixed on her. "What was that?"
She didn't answer. She couldn't.
Another pulse.
A call.
A power long sealed.
Lilith's eyes widened, her breath sharp. The medallion… it was stirring.
She clutched her chest, her expression tightening as she felt its presence. Not here. Not now. Not this soon.
"I have to go," she whispered, almost to herself.
Veydran shifted, alarmed in his own stiff, brittle way. "Lilith—"
"I can't stay," she hissed.
From beyond the long corridor, a deep voice rumbled.
"Lilith."
The air trembled as the twin Judgement Thrones spoke as one.
Nyxoria's voice came first, calm and cold.
"Child of abyss… where do you go?"
Lilith's throat tightened. Her gaze darted to Veydran — and in his face, she saw something close to grief.
Mortis's voice followed — deep, ancient, crushing as centuries of stone.
"None leave without judgment, Lilith. You swore an oath."
"I swore to keep balance," she shot back. "And if you could feel what I do — if you could sense what's waking in the world above — you'd know balance is about to shatter."
A brief silence.
Even the skeletal guards seemed to falter, their weapons trembling.
Mortis didn't stop. "Well, you carry the burden of debt. Return to the Gates, Lilith. Do not stray again."
"I have no choice!" she called out, her voice cracking. "If you felt what I just did… if you knew what it meant — you'd stop me yourselves."
The skeletal armies lining the path remained still, save for Veydran, who stepped forward, lowering his halberd.
"Lilith," he murmured, quieter now. "Don't… this will cost you."
She looked at him — and for the first time in centuries, there was fear in her eyes.
"Everything already costs me, Commander," she whispered, voice trembling. "It always has."
The Judgements spoke again, their voices like thunder in a storm.
"You risk exile."
"You risk the wrath of Hades."
"You risk your name, your soul."
Lilith's gaze didn't waver. "I've risked worse."
Lilith clenched her jaw. Another pulse struck through her chest, and she nearly dropped to a knee. The medallion's awakening couldn't be ignored.
Veydran took a careful step closer, placing a bone hand gently on her shoulder. It was the softest gesture she'd felt in centuries.
"I will… tell them you were summoned by old debts," he murmured. "That you were pulled away."
Lilith's eyes stung — not from pain, but something dangerously close to gratitude.
"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely.
He gave a stiff, bitter nod.
"Don't die for nothing, Lilith."
She managed a half-smile. "I'll try."
The ancient portal cracked open, a thin blue light spilling through like a wound in the world.
Lilith took one last glance at the thrones beyond — the seats of death's law — and at the Commander who had once led armies in her name.
Then, without hesitation, she stepped through the veil and vanished.
And far away — on the smoke-choked path beside a dying river — Nathan felt the medallion at his chest surge again.
A pulse sharp enough to blur the world around him. His breathing hitched. His hand clutched the relic through the fabric of his tunic.
Neither Ellis nor Mira noticed — too focused on the undead chasing them, too busy dodging between ruined trees and burning beams.
But Nathan felt it.
And for the first time…
it felt like someone was coming.
The night wasn't over.
And fate… was no longer asleep.