The night sky stretches above, its cold, pale beauty glistening like a silver veil over the land. The moon casts an eerie glow on the surroundings, illuminating the path for our heroes.
"Excuse me," Ethan says, trying to get the attention of the head hoplite.
The hoplite looks down at him, his fiery eyes softening like a father addressing a curious child. "What is it, little one?"
he responds, his voice calm and caring.
"I don't really feel right,"
Ethan admits, his tone uneasy.
"The way beyond is supposed to lead to the land of the living...Bactri Poli Reisa"
The hoplite stares at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. "....I'm surprised you'd even know it," he says, scratching his fake beard.
He hesitates, as if weighing his words carefully.
"Boy... I don't know how to explain this to you other than showing you for yourself"
the hoplite finally says. He gestures for Ethan to follow.
Ethan walks beside him, climbing the stairs that lead to the top of the massive wall. As they ascend, he notices the Roman legionnaires moving frantically, carrying supplies and equipment up and down the ramparts. Their movements are precise, disciplined, and filled with urgency.
As they near the top, a skeleton steps forward, blocking their path.
"Halt,"
the skeleton commands, his voice firm and authoritative. He wears the standard Roman gear, but his galea helmet marks him as a Centurion. His aura radiates discipline and command.
"What is your purpose here, Alexandros?"
the Centurion asks, his hollow eyes narrowing.
"Crauses, do forgive me for the intrusion,"
the hoplite replies, his tone respectful. "I wanted to show the youngling the danger that lies ahead."
Crauses, the Centurion, nods slowly.
"Alright. Don't stay too long, otherwise I'll have a field day with the tribune."
Ethan watches the exchange closely, his curiosity growing. He follows Alexandros to the edge of the wall, his heart pounding with anticipation.
"..."
Ethan's breath catches in his throat as he looks over the edge.
Below him, a sea of humans—or what used to be humans—growl and writhe aimlessly. They are ragged, deranged, and animalistic, their eyes hollow and lifeless. Men, women, and children... no one was spared.
But these are not the undead Ethan knows from the graveyard. He can see that they still have life in them... but they are no longer human.
"....The living dead,"
Ethan mutters, his voice trembling.
"But how?"
He scratches his head, trying to make sense of the horrifying sight. What could have caused this? What happened to the people on the other side?
"All I know, boy,"
Alexandros says, his voice heavy with regret,
"Is that the last thing we heard from the humans had started facing a plague that spread for the capital ."
Ethan's stomach churns at the thought. The living dead below are a grim reminder of the cost of failure, of the price paid when the living and the dead collide.
"Never thought in a thousand years I'd be helping humans again,"
Alexandros mutters, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and bitterness.
Ethan looks at him, confused.
"What do you mean by that?"
Alexandros smirks, his fiery eyes glinting.
"Ah, yes. Some of the humans have been relocated to the Central Citadel.If you're wondering how... it's because of the Tri Council."
Ethan's eyes widen in surprise.
*Humans in the land of the dead?* he thinks. *Aren't they supposed to be food for most of the undead?*
"Ah, alright,"
Ethan says, trying to process the information. "And what is the Tri—"
Before he can finish his question, a deafening CRASH
interrupts him.
"Whoa!" Ethan stumbles, grabbing the edge of the wall for balance. He looks down to see a bloated infected—a grotesque, pulsating mass of flesh and mana. Its body twists and writhes, its breaths ragged and labored.
"....Dale, Dale, please come back,"
the infected mutters, its voice distorted and broken.
BANG
BANG
BANG
The infected slams its fists against the wall, each blow shaking the massive structure.
"DALE, COME BACK TO ME!"
it screams, its voice echoing with a mix of desperation and rage.
"OPEN THE GATES!" a legionnaire shouts, his voice cutting through the chaos.
The gates creak open slowly, revealing a horde of infected surging forward, their eyes wild and hungry. But before they can breach the wall, a sudden cold fills the air.
WACKK
A wall of icy spears erupts from the ground, impaling the infected in mid-stride.
"...The Macedonia Frost Legion,"
Alexandros says, his voice filled with a mix of respect but also a deep scar of the past
Ethan watches as the Frost Legion marches forward, their movements precise and unyielding. Each step they take is accompanied by the sound of ice cracking and spears piercing flesh. The infected leap forward, driven by their primal hunger, but the Frost Legion shows no mercy.
"MARCH!"
a commanding voice roars, and the Frost Legion advances, their icy weapons cutting through the horde like a scythe through wheat.
The infected fall one by one, their twisted bodies frozen and shattered. The Frost Legion moves with mechanical efficiency, their hearts long gone, devoid of any human emotion.
Ethan stares in silence, his mind racing. The sight is both horrifying and mesmerizing, I guess Its battles like these where the spectical of a fight is still preserved....unlike the battles he knew for his world
"Knows no Honnor"