Chapter 31: Undead General
"The undead are being pushed back! Everyone, advance!" Reginald bellowed, his voice carrying like a warhorn across the bloodstained battlefield.
The warriors roared in unison, a guttural cry of fury and renewed strength. Their blades, dulled with ichor and grime, raised once more. They surged forward with Reginald at the helm, cleaving through the scattered undead with a vengeance born of desperation and hope. Their momentum surged. The tide was shifting.
Morale coursed through their veins like fire. The despair from earlier was gone—replaced with sharpened instincts, heightened reflexes, and eyes blazing with battle fury. Reginald led the charge like a stormbreaker, his strikes opening a path that his men followed without hesitation.
"Go, go, go!" Rein’s voice rang from the rear lines. "Unleash everything!"
The mages responded with precision. Spells burst from their hands like fireworks, raining arcs of flame, shards of ice, crackling lightning, and blasts of wind down on the enemy ranks. The battlefield was a maelstrom of swirling elements and glowing sigils, a chaotic dance of destruction that lit up the sky.
Just then, a terrifying presence surged into view.
A massive figure tore through its own forces, scattering low-ranking undead in its path like ragdolls. Its movement was unnatural—too fast for its hulking size. The way it ran, the weight of its presence—it drew every eye.
The ground trembled with its steps. They all looked at the direction of the tremors and they all were all alarmed. They were all shocked and tense with what they saw.
"The Undead General," Rolan muttered from above, his eyes narrowing. He watched him with burning eyes. He immediately bit his lips and was excited to clash with his enemy.
Without hesitation, he dove through the clouds, wings cutting the air as he streaked downward like a comet. He held his sword from his side, ready to draw it from the scabbard. But then he thought of a better option.
The monstrous general barreled forward, unaware of the intervention awaiting it. At the very last second, Rolan landed in its path—and met it head-on. His fist, wrapped in gleaming basilisk armor, collided with the creature’s jaw.