The night breeze carried a faint chill, yet E-Rantel remained as it always was.
Yago was an ordinary soldier. His greatest pleasure in life was drinking. Whenever he had a day off, he would head into the city to an inn called "Spinning Bird Inn," drawn by the lively atmosphere there.
Unfortunately, tonight he had been assigned to stand guard at the city gate. Deprived of his usual drink, Yago could only find a secluded corner, lean against the wall, and slack off while yawning.
Back when he hadn't yet turned into a drunk, he used to frequent the city's brothels for some fun. But ever since the Golden Princess abolished the slave trade, the value of those establishments had skyrocketed, forcing Yago to give them up.
It was all the Golden Princess's fault. Why did she have to abolish the slave trade? Yago often grumbled about it.
Half a month ago, while he was wandering the streets with no way to vent his pent-up frustration, he was noticed by the kindhearted proprietor Ajjie. In the end, Yago became a regular drunk at his inn, dropping by for a couple of drinks whenever he had the chance.
His biggest wish now was to drink an adventurer named Naohara under the table and snatch away his first time. His first time getting completely drunk.
Just as Yago, clutching his weapon, couldn't resist drifting off, a piercingly cold gust swept past him. He shuddered, jolted fully awake from his half-asleep haze.
"What's going on?"
Still holding his weapon, Yago stood up, frowning in confusion. It was spring. It shouldn't be this cold.
He peered out beyond the city walls but saw nothing unusual. With a shrug, he returned to his corner, curled up, and prepared to resume dozing off, planning to muddle through until morning when the next shift would take over.
Just then, hurried pounding erupted at the gate, startling Yago just as he was about to fall asleep again.
"Open the gate! Help!"
Standing atop the wall, Yago looked down at the main gate below. The ones shouting were the patrol soldiers on duty tonight. He recognized them. If he remembered correctly, they had been assigned to patrol the graveyard.
Patrolling the graveyard had its pros and cons. The downside was the cold. The place was chilling at night, and even during the day it carried a lingering chill. Those in poor health could easily fall seriously ill.
There were benefits too. Every so often, someone might pocket a burial item or two and sell it quietly, making life a little easier.
Judging by the soldiers' frantic knocking and near-hysterical expressions, Yago felt a bad premonition rising in his chest.
There was only one thing that could make graveyard patrol soldiers react like that: the Undead.
But that shouldn't be possible. The kingdom's Magic Casters regularly came to purify the area and offer prayers to prevent the birth of the Undead.
On top of that, the city lord would dispatch soldiers and hire adventurers to eliminate any Undead that appeared by accident.
After all, the noble lords in the city valued their lives dearly.
While Yago was still speculating, the soldiers guarding the gate below had already opened it under the captain's orders, pulling in the men who were still desperately pounding on it.
The trembling soldiers rushed inside, and their first action was to slam the gate shut and frantically reinforce the bolts, locking it tight.
"Where are the others who were with you?"
"Did something happen at the graveyard?"
The garrison captain, a burly man in his thirties, looked at them with a growing sense of unease. He had a feeling something serious was about to unfold.
"The Undead! All Undead! The ones in the graveyard have all crawled out!"
"The other brothers stayed behind to hold them off and were eaten! Only a few of us managed to escape!"
One of the soldiers, after subtly altering part of the truth, hurriedly recounted what had happened.
The captain gave him a long look. Stayed behind voluntarily? More like they were forced to stay and cover the retreat.
But he didn't voice that thought. Instead, he walked to the gate and opened the small viewing hatch set into it, peering outside. If the man wasn't lying, this would spell disaster for all of E-Rantel.
The thought of every Undead in the graveyard rising at once made his heart sink. That would be catastrophic.
Beyond the city gate, everything was eerily quiet. There was no sign of any Undead.
Still, the captain did not lower his guard. His eyes remained fixed on the distant darkness.
A thin layer of mist appeared in the distance. As time passed, if one listened closely, faint, indistinct growls seemed to drift from within.
Skeleton soldiers, Wights, Zombies… Along with the stench of decay seeping into the air, the silhouettes of all kinds of Undead began to emerge.
"Damn it… this many Undead!"
Staring at the tide of Undead stretching endlessly like a rising sea, the captain hurriedly shut the small viewing window and cursed.
He spun around and barked at the soldier beside him, who was still standing there in shock.
"Don't just stand there! Go ring the alarm bell!"
"And you two, get to the Adventurers' Guild. I'm going to see the city lord."
The soldiers snapped out of their daze at the orders, nodding frantically before racing into the city. The remaining men, under the captain's direction, began reinforcing the gate, bracing for the Undead assault.
In truth, more than a few of them had legs that were shaking. They wanted to run. Every instinct screamed at them to flee. But they clenched their teeth and stayed.
They couldn't run.
Their wives and children were still inside the city walls. That alone was reason enough.
Up on the ramparts, Yago's face was pale with fear. From his position atop the wall, he could see the situation in the distance even more clearly.
"Oh my god…"
He swallowed hard, snapped back to his senses, and bolted down the stairs. He needed to regroup with the captain and await orders.
Just like the others, he couldn't run. He might be a bachelor, but his parents still lived in the city. The two old folks were far too frail to endure any chaos.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
A series of rapid, resounding bell tolls echoed across E-Rantel, instantly jolting countless people awake.
"What's going on?"
"That's from the West Gate. The graveyard's that way."
"Something huge must've happened! That bell only rings if the Undead are attacking the city!"
Residents jolted from their beds, confusion and panic written all over their faces. As the bell continued to ring, the tension escalated.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
The bell rang ten times in total, the sound reverberating through the night sky above E-Rantel. Those who understood its meaning slumped to the ground in despair.
One toll signified a hundred Undead.
Ten tolls meant a thousand.
Or more.
"Ten tolls… Dear god, that's over a thousand Undead!"
Every adventurer in E-Rantel was shaken awake. Even the Adventurers' Guildmaster felt as if he were facing a great enemy. No one understood the meaning of ten tolls better than he did.
A thousand Undead attacking the city.
That was enough to wipe it out.
At a time like this, the Adventurers' Guild and the soldiers had to work together to resist the incoming tide of Undead. At the same time, they had to notify the kingdom and request a large force, along with Adamantite Adventurers, to come reinforce them.
Relying solely on E-Rantel's soldiers and adventurers, they could hold out only for a short while.
"Notify every adventurer in the city immediately. Issue an emergency request to assist the soldiers in resisting the Undead!"
"Mobilize everyone who can fight. We must hold the line until reinforcements arrive!"
The Adventurers' Guildmaster, a white-haired old man, spoke rapidly as he pulled on a set of light armor. The urgency in his voice was unmistakable.
"Guildmaster, what are you doing?"
"I may be old, but I can still cut down a couple of Undead."
He fastened his helmet, picked up a longsword, and gave a faint smile before striding toward the city gate.
Deep down, he knew E-Rantel's chances were slim.
How long would it take for reinforcements to arrive?
Even if the message reached the kingdom immediately, it would take at least half a day for aid to reach E-Rantel. Could the city's soldiers, along with a few noble private forces and the Adventurers' Guild, really hold off several thousand Undead for that long?
The answer was no.
Unless, by some miracle, a battle-deciding powerhouse happened to be in E-Rantel.
But how could that be possible? Someone like that would never come to a small place like this.
If we survive this, I'm retiring.
The Adventurers' Guildmaster ran down the main street, watching the chaos unfold around him as that thought crossed his mind.