The night was cursed, filled with harrowing screams and the stench of decay. My muscles burned with pain, a searing ache that worsened with every swing of my sword. But I knew I couldn't stop.
The zombies, more numerous than before, were an unrelenting enemy. Even though they made up only a third of our numbers, ignoring them was impossible. They never tired, never felt pain, and every second of battle drained our physical and mental strength. Our only advantages were our defenses, weapons, and intelligence. We had devised methods to minimize contact with them, but even so, the fight was anything but simple.
My sword continued to swing, cleaving through the rotting flesh of the walking corpses. For a moment, my precision improved as I grew accustomed to their movements, but exhaustion soon began to sap my strength again. Fighting without rest, facing these tireless killing machines in a darkness lit only by torches, was enough to break anyone.
Fortunately, I had my [Tireless] ability, which had allowed me to endure until now. Without it, I would have had to retreat and rely on my men to hold the line while I recovered.
We kept fighting, but our defenses were faltering. There were already three breaches where the undead were pouring in. While some were manageable, others were on the brink of collapse.
...
*Swish!*
My sword carved a perfect arc, slicing through the neck of a corpse charging at me. It got stuck, and instinctively, I kicked the zombie's body, knocking it down and freeing my weapon. As I had done countless times before, one of my men finished it off, smashing its head against the ground.
I was gasping for breath, but the relief of thinning their numbers eased the pain in my body. The pressure from the undead was waning; there were fewer of them now, and my men could focus on eliminating each one more efficiently. The burden on everyone was lightening, and confidence was growing. On top of that, the kill counter was nearing the target. We were only a little over ten kills away from reaching 100 and ending this nightmare.
However, not everything was good news. Some of our people had died, and others were injured—at least in my position. I didn't know how the rest were faring, but since we weren't completely surrounded, I assumed they had it slightly better.
Several minutes of battle passed until, finally, the counter hit its limit. But the relief was short-lived. My face twisted in horror as I read the message that appeared before me.
[Some of the participant's actions have caused changes in the current disaster. Action taken: leaving many corpses exposed.]
[Lyricus Disaster escalated to Level 3.]
[0/150]
I wanted to scream at the heavens, to curse any god that might be listening, as more undead emerged from the forest. A new horde—larger, more terrifying.
"Prepare yourselves!" I shouted with the last of my strength. Gripping my sword with both hands, I tried to summon energy from where there was none to keep going.
I looked at the faces of my men: tired, on the verge of collapse, reflecting the same despair I felt. But like me, they knew giving up wasn't an option. Exhaustion could only mean one thing: death.
The first to arrive were the faster zombies. Some slammed against the barricades before finding their way inside, while others headed straight for the breaches, invading our camp. These were the worst—quick, strong, and with just enough intelligence to be truly dangerous.
They lunged at us like wild beasts, and our worn weapons barely managed to hold them off. Running purely on adrenaline and with my body pushed to its limit, I stepped forward to face the undead with my sword, ignoring any thoughts of self-preservation. My mind, already overwhelmed, stopped reasoning clearly, but that loss of control allowed me to do something I hadn't expected.
With a savage cry, I charged toward one of the most imposing zombies I had ever seen. It stood out among the rest, its strength far superior. Letting out a guttural growl from its rotting throat, it stretched its arms toward me. Without stopping, I swung my sword from left to right—more ferociously than precisely—and at that moment, I felt it.
I didn't know what it was, but some kind of epiphany struck me as my only thought was to end these unnatural invaders. It was as if something inside me had awakened. My sword seemed to glow faintly with a red hue, and the zombie, for a brief instant, displayed a red line across its body. It wasn't literal but rather a vision, a visual effect that seemed to guide me.
Suddenly, my sword felt incredibly light, as though all my exhaustion vanished for a few seconds. The blade sliced through the undead as if it were air, meeting no resistance. The movement was clean, effortless… and devastating. Before I realized it, the corpse fell to the ground, its head and arms severed from its torso with precise, almost perfect cuts.
I didn't understand what had happened, but a surge of power coursed through me. It felt as though, for a moment, I held control over life and death itself. Then I realized: it was my class ability, [Slaughterer]. I had activated [Kill] for the first time, and its potential became clear before my eyes. That zombie, one of the most dangerous due to its near-human strength and agility, had been eliminated in an instant.
That vision, that achievement, filled my spirit with renewed energy, even though I knew it was an illusion. My body was still exhausted, something that became clear when even one of the weaker zombies made me sweat to fend it off. But I didn't give up. Even though I saw no signs that [Kill] would activate again soon, I kept fighting. I decided that this battle would be all or nothing.
Fate seemed to be mocking me. Perhaps it was divine justice. I had killed many people to strengthen my camp, and now those corpses were the ones besieging us. A cruel joke: the dead claiming vengeance.
As the battle dragged on, I began to understand how to make my skill more efficient. Its effectiveness depended on the power gap between me and my target. Against weaker enemies, it had a higher chance of activating. So, I stopped focusing on the stronger zombies and started eliminating the more vulnerable ones. If I could trigger [Kill] more often, I could reduce their numbers quickly, easing the burden on my men.
But even with this strategy, the situation only worsened. Cries and calls for help echoed around me. Not far away, I saw another breach open in the defenses. Some of my men rushed to cover it, but that only divided our forces further, weakening our line. With each passing moment, the ground we managed to defend shrank.
I ran toward them to provide support, seeing them on the brink of being overwhelmed. But just then, the palisade next to me collapsed, letting one of the undead pounce on me by surprise. A sharp pain tore through my side as a zombie girl bit into my abdomen. It had taken me down without warning, its small stature hidden beside the wall.
Despite its childish and almost innocent appearance, it was just as ferocious and insatiable as the others. Fortunately, it wasn't strong enough to tear away my flesh immediately, but blood seeped through its teeth as pain surged through me. My sword slipped from my hand, leaving me with no choice but to draw my small dagger, stabbing desperately at its head over and over, hoping to end it and break free from its bite.
I remembered, in that moment, my men's words: always carry a secondary weapon, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem. And now I understood just how right they were.
It was difficult, but in my desperate survival instinct, I managed to kill the small zombie. Even so, the damage was done. Bleeding and dizzy, I barely had time to regret it. More zombies were heading my way. With no other choice, I quickly got up, grabbed my sword from the ground, and prepared to fight again.
The pain was unbearable, and the dizziness clouded my senses, but ironically, the feeling of impending death gave me the strength to press on. If my fate was to die here, then I would do so fighting.
With one last effort, I swung my sword at the nearest zombie, stepping back to avoid being surrounded. I couldn't afford to be brave; I fought calculatedly, almost cowardly, but effectively… at least for a while. Surrounded by screams, and feeling my body failing me, I could only retreat, creating space between the corpses and myself.
My lungs burned, as if they might explode at any moment. I was out of breath, exhausted, with no escape. As I backed away, my vision began to blur, and a deafening ringing filled my ears, isolating me from what was happening around me.
When I finally regained some clarity, I saw the situation with horror: I wasn't the only one who had retreated. Several of the breaches we had defended collapsed, and my men, like me, fell back. New breaches emerged, impossible to cover in time.
The zombies began pouring into the village. I saw them crash against doors, walls, and windows of houses where the living desperately sought refuge. Fortunately, we had built those homes following the fortified designs of the "???" civilization, and it seemed that decision was a wise one. They would hold for a time. Even if the zombies broke in, the passages and hideouts within the houses offered a chance for a few to escape.
I watched as the zombies roamed freely through the camp. Some fought against my men, those still able to fight; others devoured those who couldn't hold their ground, while a few attacked the houses. It didn't take long for them to come for me.
"AAAHHHHH!" I screamed with all my might, releasing all my frustration, as I dragged myself across the ground with cold creeping through my body. My cry caught the attention of one of them, which staggered toward me. When it got close enough, I raised my sword with one last effort and struck it down. To my surprise, I triggered [Kill] once more by pure chance, eliminating it with a single, clean blow.
We weren't completely lost. Not yet. We had lost the palisade, yes, but many of us, though exhausted, were determined to fight to the last breath. The zombies wandered freely through the camp, but there was still hope… a goal… every single one of them had to be destroyed.
Even the women sheltering in the houses armed themselves, ready to fight if the time came. Though we were injured, exhausted, and our recklessness would surely bring more wounds, we pressed on with a kind of uncontrollable madness, determined to kill every undead that dared to take our lives.
Our shift in combat style, more aggressive and unrestrained, had its effect. We managed to eliminate the zombies more quickly, but the cost was high: more lives were sacrificed in the process.
My legs stopped responding. My arms felt like rusty metal, moving stiffly and awkwardly. Yet I didn't stop fighting. Nearly immobile, I struck down any corpse that dared come close.
I didn't know how much time had passed, but gradually, the darkness that had cloaked the camp throughout the night began to lift. The sky started to glow faintly, signaling that dawn was near.
Collapsed on the ground, too weak to stand, I turned my head. I saw the first rays of sunlight illuminating the disaster around us. The camp, now filled with corpses, seemed to regain a glimmer of life despite the horror. The sunlight, warm and hopeful, fell upon the lifeless bodies, and some of them began to disintegrate, turning to dust upon contact with the light.
We had survived… though at far too great a cost.