By the time the last ghost scorpion fell twitching into the sand, Mina's chest was burning, and her vision swam at the edges, but she didn't stop.
She couldn't afford to.
Raul wiped blood from the edge of Midnight Whistles with a sharp flick of his wrist and turned immediately, already scanning the field. "Victor and Arin," he said. "They're still tied up."
Mina nodded once. No words, no hesitation.
She stepped toward the corpse of the ghost scorpion she'd killed, planted the butt of her spear into the ground to steady herself, and raised her free hand.
"Raise Undead."
The world pulled at her.
Necromantic mana surged outward, not in a smooth wave but in a violent draw, like something being ripped out of her chest. Her knees buckled for a moment, teeth grinding as the drain tore through her reserves. It was heavier than raising a soldier-rank desert scorpion. Much heavier.
The corpse twitched.
Then it rose.
Mina didn't wait.
"Contract," she said hoarsely.
Purple light burned to life behind empty, faceted eyes. The ghost scorpion unfolded itself with unnatural smoothness, stinger lifting, limbs clicking softly against stone. There was no hesitation in it. No pain. No fear. The air around it felt wrong. too cold and too sharp.
The pull doubled.
She gasped as the bond locked in place, vision flashing white for a heartbeat as something snapped into alignment. When the pressure finally eased, she was left swaying, breath ragged, mana reserves gutted down to less than half.
Worth it.
The undead ghost scorpion turned its head toward her, awaiting command.
"Go," Mina whispered, and pointed toward the chaos ahead.
It vanished.
Raul exhaled sharply. "Let's go help them now."
They didn't slow.
Victor and Arin were still locked in brutal close combat with the remaining black scorpions. Tank and Rook were smeared with cracks and missing chunks of undead flesh, still fighting through sheer mass and refusal to stop. Black scorpions lay shattered around them, but more still pressed in, pincers hammering, tails crashing down like piledrivers.
Mina sprinted despite the ache screaming through her legs.
Her ghost scorpion reappeared behind a black scorpion mid-swing.
The stinger struck first.
It punched clean through the gap beneath the creature's armour and pinned it to the ground in one motion. Before the black scorpion could even scream, the ghost scorpion severed its nerve cluster and vanished again.
Arin saw the opening instantly. "Push!"
Tank barreled forward, smashing another black scorpion sideways. Victor followed, shield-first, Midnight Lake slamming into chitin hard enough to ring. Midnight Thunder came down a heartbeat later, crushing armour, cracking through joint and plate alike.
The line broke.
With Mina's ghost scorpion striking from impossible angles, the black scorpions lost cohesion. One fell, then another, bodies piling atop shattered undead and broken stone. Rook took a pincer through the shoulder and still lunged, jaws tearing a leg clean off before being dragged down, and then rising again, slower but unrelenting.
Within minutes, it was over.
The last black scorpion collapsed under the combined weight, crushed and torn until it stopped moving.
Mina stood there, chest heaving, watching her undead regroup automatically around her. What was left of her force was smaller now: ten desert scorpions, battered and uneven; Tank and Rook, visibly damaged but standing; and the ghost scorpion, untouched, coiled and waiting.
Then Arin's head snapped up.
"Rasir's line," he said. "They're breaking."
Beyond them, the wider battlefield was chaos.
The village warriors were still holding formation, but barely. Desert scorpions poured in from the flanks, numbers grinding them down by sheer attrition. Ghost scorpions darted through gaps, forcing hunters to turn, break stance, and overextend.
And further ahead,
Rasir.
Still fighting.
Still standing.
"Go," Arin said. "We help them now."
Mina didn't argue.
She raised her hand again. "Ghost, clear the small ones."
The undead ghost scorpion vanished and reappeared in the thick of the desert scorpions attacking the village line. It moved like a shadow with weight, stinger flashing, limbs severing, bodies dropping before they could react. Every kill opened space. Every opening let the villagers breathe.
But the enemy adapted.
Five ghost scorpions broke off and surged toward them.
"Here we go again," Raul said quietly.
Victor stepped forward at once, planting himself between the oncoming scorpions and Mina. Guardian's Stance settled into his body like iron locking into place. Pincers slammed into Midnight Lake, tails crashed down, but he held, absorbing the force, buying time.
"I can't catch them," Victor growled as a ghost scorpion slipped past his hammer swing by inches.
"I've got one," Raul said, already moving.
He vanished.
Mina took another.
The ghost scorpion lunged low, stinger darting toward her legs. She shifted her shield instinctively, Unbroken Guard flexing, not rigid, not static, but flowing. The stinger glanced off at an angle that shouldn't have existed, sliding away instead of piercing through.
She countered.
Midnight Flash thrust forward, not at the body but at the base of the creature's tail. The spear bit. The scorpion recoiled, screeching, and Mina followed, pressing the advantage, shield always moving, never giving it a clean line.
A ghost scorpion broke through the press and came for Arin.
Mina's desert scorpions slammed into it from the sides, claws and bodies tangling around its legs, forcing it to rear and strike blindly. Chitin screeched. One undead was crushed outright. Another was flung aside.
Arin stepped in only when it was committed.
He cut low, fast, then pulled back as the tail snapped past where his head had been. The blade found a joint, bit deep, and tore free. The scorpion shrieked and twisted, trying to shake the swarm off its legs.
Arin didn't chase. He waited.
When it overreached again, he struck, short, brutal cuts meant to cripple, not finish, then vanished back into the chaos as the undead dragged it down once more.
Victor absorbed another crushing blow, and then Mina shouted, "Ghost, help him!"
Her ghost scorpion appeared beside Victor in a blur.
It struck the ghost scorpion he'd been holding at bay, locking it in place just long enough for Victor to bring Midnight Thunder down in a full, brutal arc. Armour cracked. The head caved in. The body fell limp.
Rook and Tank took the last one together—Tank pinning it, Rook crushing the stinger under its jaws until it snapped.
The remaining ghost scorpions fell moments later.
And they didn't stop.
They turned immediately on the remaining black scorpions harassing Rasir's troops.
Mina sent her undead forward in waves, desert scorpions clogging paths, Tank and Rook smashing through hardened targets, the ghost scorpion eliminating anything fast enough to threaten the villagers' flanks.
Victor and Arin pushed alongside the warriors, breaking pressure points, restoring formations one brutal exchange at a time.
Slowly, painfully, the tide shifted.
Scorpions fell back.
Then fell apart.
And still, ahead of it all, Rasir fought on, locked in combat with two captain-rank monsters, spear flashing as the night swallowed the clash of steel and chitin.
The battle wasn't over.
Not yet.