The screams of battle erupted in the air. The sound of whistling arrows, magical explosions, and the crunch of breaking bones filled the northern skies. The great wall trembled—not from the assault, but from the ground around it, flooded with blood and rotting flesh.
Elan twisted his left hand, and roots burst from the earth, tearing through the chest of a zombie swinging a rusted axe toward him.
"Root Burst."
The corpse was hurled into the air before being struck down by an ice spear from Ratri on the other side. "GRRRRHHHHH!" The sound never ceased. From cracks in the earth, from the ruins of guard posts, from beneath the old iron bridge—zombies emerged like a black river. They ran, crawled, dragged themselves forward with growls that seemed endless.
"Ratri, to your right!" Lightning sparked as Ki Mandra darted to the side, slashing down three zombies in a single sword sweep. Foul blood sprayed through the air, but he didn't slow. His movements were calm, precise, and deadly.
Amid the hail of projectiles from the top of the wall, the three Arcanists pushed deeper into the battlefield. They weren't just holding ground—they were advancing, away from the defensive line.
"Why are we going in?" asked Ratri, her face stained with black blood. "Because someone is controlling this," Elan answered quickly. "They're not moving randomly. Look at the pattern—they're opening a path inward."
"Inward… or outward?" Ki Mandra stared into the dark toward a pile of rubble. Five zombies lunged from the left. Without warning, Ratri charged forward.
"Frost Barrage!" Five ice bullets struck the lead zombie, freezing it, but the others kept coming. Elan drove his hand into the ground.
"Verdant Wall."
A wall of roots rose instantly, trapping two zombies. One jumped over the barrier, only to be slashed from below by Ki Mandra, who moved like a shadow. They fought like a current—without giving commands. Just reading gaps, reacting, and complementing each other.
"GRRRRHHHHHHHH!!"
The growl came again. But this time it was deeper. More... focused. From behind a pile of broken carts, a zombie emerged—its skin reddish, its muscles unnaturally swollen. Its mouth was torn to the cheek, and its eyes glowed with a faint golden light.
"Look at that one," Ratri said quietly. "Is that our target?" "Not sure," Elan replied. "But definitely... not an ordinary zombie."
Then four more figures appeared. Their bodies were massive, colored in dull copper, and they moved unlike regular zombies—they held formation. "Four to the sides," Ki Mandra muttered. "The one in the center might be the main target. But those on the sides… will be trouble."
They descended the slope, surrounded by normal zombies. But before they could get close, the copper ones charged.
The fight began.
The first Guardian lunged at Ratri, its body like living stone. It slammed a massive fist that shattered the ground where Ratri had stood. She leapt back and summoned an ice spear from the air.
"Frozen Fang!"
The spear pierced the Guardian's shoulder, slowing it. As it pulled away, Elan's roots reached out and bound its legs.
"Snare Root."
The first Guardian toppled, and Ki Mandra immediately struck. Three swift slashes, and the Guardian's head rolled to the ground.
"GRRRGGHHHHHH!!"
The second and third Guardians charged together—one swinging a massive fist, the other attempting to crush Elan in a bear hug. Elan leapt back, but not fast enough—the punch landed on his thigh. He staggered.
Ratri instantly attacked the grappler. "Frozen Grasp!" Ice crawled from the ground, pinning the Guardian. But another was already swinging at Ratri from behind. Blood sprayed. But not hers. Ki Mandra dashed in like lightning, slicing off the Guardian's axe arm. "Protect Elan," he said flatly.
With help from roots and ice, the second and third Guardians were taken down. But Elan was limping now, blood dripping from his thigh. The last Guardian came in more ferociously than the others, crashing into Ki Mandra with brute force. The ground cracked beneath them.
Ki Mandra held his ground, but the Guardian was stronger. Each strike shook the earth.
"Now!" Ratri shouted.
Elan raised his hand—roots burst from below, snaring the Guardian's legs. Ratri leapt, unleashing dozens of ice shards.
"Glacier Storm!"
Ki Mandra slashed again. A clean cut. The fourth Guardian collapsed with a heavy thud.
But they had no time to breathe.
"GRRRRRHHHHHHH…"
The golden-muscled zombie, who had been watching all along, now opened its mouth. Its growl was answered by the roars of hundreds of zombies charging from all directions. "Elan, can you move?" Ratri asked quickly. "I can stand. That's enough," he replied, bracing himself with roots. The wave of zombies came. But the three Arcanists stood firm. Roots ripped through flesh. Ice froze bodies. And Ki Mandra moved like a shadow in the storm of blood.
One by one, the zombies fell, but the golden one remained still. Just watching.
"Damn... he's waiting for us to tire out," Ratri muttered. "Too bad we're not tired yet," Ki Mandra replied. He glanced at Elan and gave a single nod.
Roots shot up from the earth, binding the golden zombie's legs. It let out a fierce roar.
"GRRRAAAAAGHHH!!"
Ice froze its body halfway. Slowly—Ki Mandra approached, his face calm. He raised his sword. "You've been too quiet," he said softly. "That makes you the most dangerous."
SLASH!
A clean cut ended it all. The monster fell, unmoving. The three stood in a field of corpses. Elan staggered, supported by roots. Blood dripped from his cloak.
No one spoke. Because there was nothing left to say.
The Northern Wall had won. But the war was far from over…