It attacked again.
All across the battlefield, more bodies rose.
Men who had fallen minutes ago… now standing again.
Fighting again, but this time, against their own side.
"…No…"
One soldier stumbled back, staring at a familiar face.
"Daren…?"
The man in front of him said nothing.
His movements were slower, less precise, only a fraction of what they once were.
But still enough.
Enough to kill.
"Snap out of it!" the soldier shouted, voice breaking. "Hey, it's me!"
The blade came anyway.
"They're using the dead!"
"Those are our people!"
"Kill them—no, wait—!"
Rage spread faster than fear this time.
Faces twisted, and eyes burned.
"Bastard!"
"I'll tear him apart!"
The formation began to shake, not from fear alone, but from anger.
Because this wasn't just death anymore.
This was desecration.
Up above, Aiden lowered his hand slightly.
His mana dipped again, sharply this time.
"…Still too costly," he muttered.
