Very Wrong Reincarnation: Isekai with Game Nation

Chapter 11

On the outskirts of the Valur camp, multiple shadows moved, but these were not spies. Instead, they were pure darkness - the undead charging forth on the ranks of terrified Varanasi soldiers. The soldiers screamed in fear and terror as monsters of the abyss ran through their ranks, their faces plastered with hell and sheer madness. The soldiers were unable to comprehend the sight before them - the saliva and seething rotten flesh of the undead even made the veteran Varanasi mercenaries vomit and step down.

The undead were relentless, and they showed no signs of slowing down. The soldiers' weapons were no match for them, as they tore through their armor and flesh with ease. The sound of swords and shields clashing against the undead bodies filled the air, mixed with the screams of the dying and the moans of the undead.

As chaos ensued, the soldiers frantically tried to regroup and form a defensive line, but the undead were already upon them. It was a massacre, and the soldiers were powerless to stop it. The scene was a clear reminder of the danger that the undead posed to everyone. It was the killing spree of the undead that turned the soldiers into their victims, only to have their fangs sink back into the invaders as they were resurrected as undead themselves.

"What is happening?!" one soldier yelled.

"We're being overrun!" another replied, fear evident in his voice.

"Form a defensive line!" a commander shouted, trying to rally his troops. But it was too late, the undead had already broken through their ranks and were tearing them apart with their bare hands.

The screams of the dying filled the air as the soldiers fought desperately for their lives. It was a gruesome and brutal scene, one that would haunt the survivors for years to come.

Bodies lay bare as far as the eye could see, a macabre scene of carnage and death. The ground was slick with blood, both fresh and congealed, mixing with the dirt to create a grotesque mud. Thousands of arrows, swords, and spears were scattered about the battlefield, forgotten by their wielders in the frenzy of battle.

Amidst the dead and dying soldiers were the undead, still hungering for the flesh of the living. Their once-human faces now twisted with madness and rot, they continued to rampage through the ranks of terrified soldiers. Screams of pain and terror filled the air, drowning out the sounds of clashing weapons and shattering bones.

The soldiers who were still alive fought with desperation, trying to hold off the seemingly endless horde of undead. They shouted orders and encouragement to each other, but their voices were drowned out by the sounds of chaos and death. They knew that they were fighting for their lives, and that defeat meant either death or a fate worse than death.

As the battle raged on, the casualties continued to mount. Bodies piled up on top of each other, making it difficult to move around the battlefield. Some of the soldiers, unable to fight any longer, lay down to await their fate, while others continued to fight with everything they had left.

In the end, the undead were finally pushed back, their numbers dwindling as the soldiers fought on with high cost.

Varanasi Tent

Inside the tent of Varanasi, the captains and officers of his army were gathered, all looking anxious and scared as they pleaded for a withdrawal from the mineas. "General, we can't take it anymore. Our forces are dwindling every day. We're losing more men every night to those undead and nocturnal monsters," one of the captains said, desperation evident in his voice.

Varanasi, however, was not one to back down easily. He was known for his pride and arrogance, and it was evident in his response. "Withdrawal? You speak of withdrawal when we haven't even achieved our objective yet? We cannot abandon the mines, not when victory is within our grasp. We must press on," he said firmly, his eyes flashing with determination.