The goblins froze, staring at the humans and the circling undead wolves. For a heartbeat, no one moved.

  Adarin assessed. They’ve got numbers. We’ve got the high ground. ‘Liora, the dogs—’

  But Liora was already moving. Her hand snapped up. “Charge,” she hissed, her voice like a blade drawn across ice.

  One goblin raised a javelin—too slow. Two wolves leapt, crashing into the goblins bunched on the stairs. A howling avalanche of fur and screaming greenskins rolled downward. The rest of the wolves followed—fangs flashing in a blur of death. The goblin with the axe had dodged the charge.

  Now it stood alone, eyes wide, facing two humans. It looked back. Down the stairs, only chaos: glowing wolves, goblin limbs, blood. It turned and Johan struck.

  The goblin blocked—barely. Johan slid his grip, twisted, and disarmed it. The axe clattered away.

  He brought the staff down. The goblin raised its arms in a desperate block—bone snapped with a sickening crack. It screamed. The second blow dropped it.

  Adarin felt calm settle in Liora. Oh. Now she decides to be sane. He rolled his eyes.

  Johan raised the staff again—but Liora caught his arm.

  She crouched over the goblin, and gripped its throat with one hand. The other, she clamped around his throat, skin to skin. Adarin felt it—the pull, Liora siphoning energy through its throat and channeling it into the black furnace inside her. Then pushing it back into the goblin’s body.

  It began to seize hard, vibrating like a piece of metal under current.

  Liora whispered like a prayer, “Create zombie... create zombie...”

  The nervous system rewove itself. The goblin screamed, but Liora didn’t stop.

  It went limp and still for two seconds. Then its eyes lit with a cold, inhuman glow.

  She looked up towards the stairwell and whistled.

  Two wolves emerged from the cellar—panting, blood-soaked—followed by a tide of goblins.

  Adarin tilted his head, studying the situation. The presence stirred near the surface of Liora’s mind again. Why do you feel familiar? It felt like a kindred spirit—cold, calm, and forged in battle.

  Another wolf burst from the stairwell. Liora yanked the necrotic goblin upright and shoved it toward its former kin.

  A javelin struck its chest. Another slammed into the ceiling just above her. She staggered, nearly falling, but the goblin was already head over heels tumbling down the stairs

  “Close the door!” she shouted.

  Johan threw himself against it. A few heartbeats later, a wave of frigid power pulsed beneath the door. The chaos on the other side went quiet—screams fading to ragged breath.

  Johan staggered back, eyes wide. “Olivi’s Balls—what have you done?” He reached for the door. Liora didn’t stop him.

  Adarin replayed it in his head, etching every frame into long-term storage. She overloaded the core—weaponized the implant itself. A suicide zombie. Interesting.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Johan opened the door.

  Daylight spilled across a corridor of carnage. Frostbitten goblins twitched on the floor, lungs rasping. Blood slicked the stairs. The walls wept red. A wave of heavy coppery tang mixed with the smell of fresh snow hit them.

  Liora raised a hand. Adarin sensed it in her gut, her core—those goblins weren’t long for this world. She gave a grim smile and shut the door.

  Johan grabbed a broken chair and braced it closed. He raised his fist, as he noticed something on his arm. “Yes,” he murmured and studied the swirling ink on his forearm.

  Liora leaned in, reading the glowing letters:

  You have defeated 21 goblin warriors. Average strength difference: 44%. Levels gained: 2

  Adarin logged the intel. Useful.

  He caught the flicker of envy in Liora’s mind. Johan wore a smug grin, flexing his forearm to make the glowing letters more obvious. For a moment, it looked like she’d speak—but instead, she turned and pointed upstairs.

  They moved on through the ruin and scrambled up the stairwell, clambering over roof debris. The walls still stood, but the rooms were hollow wrecks. Below them, battle raged—punctuated by distant artillery thunder.

  More flashes from the citadel lit the clouds from beneath as they neared the window. Adarin smiled to himself. The citadel’s fires lit the clouds from below—an inverse thunderstorm painted in blood and flame.

  Liora leaned out the window. Before Adarin could shout, Johan yanked her back.

  She spun, ready to snap at him with the next breath.

  Adarin cut in smoothly. ‘Maybe try not to make yourself a tempting target for archers.’

  She tensed. Her hand drifted to the still-wet wound on her leg. Yeah. That’s right, girl. Try not to die, Adarin muttered privately.

  Before he could comment further, Johan held out a splinter of a mirror. ‘Thank him for me, will you?’, Adarin said dryly.

  Liora groaned, rolled her eyes, and muttered, “Thank you.”

  ‘Good girl.’

  Liora tensed. Her fist clenched until blood welled from her palm. A hurricane of dark thoughts washed over her memories. She didn’t seem to notice. She took a breath and tried to ignore him.

  Adarin chuckled as they both knelt at the window. Liora held up the mirror shard, scanning the street below.

  Four lines of fighters locked in brutal deadlock.

  On their side, fifty stone-thrower zombies rained debris in a relentless hail. In front of them, two hundred spear- and axe-armed undead held a packed line—seven ranks deep—pressing uphill.

  The goblins faced them with looser ranks, javelins and axes flashing. The main line surged over a rising mound of corpses.

  Behind the goblin melee line, archers and javelin-throwers rained death. An orc stood among them, bellowing commands.

  Liora froze, uncertain. Adarin smiled—then frowned. His instincts were screaming. He exhaled through his nose, mapped out a plan, and shared it. The others nodded, ready.

  Soon, Johan leaned his quarterstaff against the wall and conjured another energy grenade between his fingers. Liora focused on the stone-throwers.

  Shielded by the window frame, she gestured.

  The ranged undead stepped back fifteen meters—out of sight, but still in view of her command.

  At Adarin’s prompting, she pulled half the frontliners back and reshaped them into disciplined blocks—spears bristling at the center, axes flanking them, mirrored on both sides of the street.

  Never thought I’d be testing ancient tactics, Adarin mused while grinning like a child with a new toy.

  She mirrored the formation to both flanks, stacking zombies three rows deep along the walls.

  Johan’s breath quickened. The chill of the spell spilled from his hands, rolling over Liora like the first breath of a storm.

  She looked to the center line. “Are we ready?” she whispered, voice taut with anticipation.

  Adarin smiled. Oh yes.

  Outside, the orc commander roared—sensing the shift.

  Inside, Liora’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s kill them all.”

  Thanks for reading — let me know in the comments what you thought about the chapter!

  Upload Schedule: Mon–Fri at 4:47 PM EST / 10:47 PM CET

  Want more? Join my Patreon for up to 30 extra chapters (6 weeks ahead):