Just as Zain and Martha were about to reach the surface, thick green vines shot up from the ground, catching both of them midair.
"What the...? Was that really necessary?" Zain cursed as he landed, barely managing to steady himself.
"There were no stairs," Martha said casually, already heading toward the tent camps. "The building's half-destroyed. Jumping was the only way down."
Zain glanced back at the place he had been staying in for the past few days. It was a ten-story building, barely holding itself together, looking like it could collapse at any moment. Standing over thirty meters tall, it was one of the biggest structures he had ever seen. But what truly shocked him wasn't its state... it was its sheer size and presence.
He came from an era where houses were made of brick and mud, with thatched or wooden roofs. But here? This world was advanced. More advanced than he could have ever imagined. Vehicles, concrete buildings, weapons beyond anything from his past life.
Pushing those thoughts aside, he hurried after Martha. She was only walking, yet somehow, he struggled to match her pace, even at full speed.
After a while, they reached an open area where rows of tents stood neatly arranged. Laughter and conversation drifted from within, while soldiers stood guard, gripping their weapons, axe, swords, and things Zain didn't even recognize.
The guards tensed as they heard approaching footsteps. But as soon as they recognized Martha, their expressions shifted.
"Captain!" they shouted in unison, raising their right fists and tapping their left chests.
"Tmhp."
The salute of the Defenders Army... a mark of respect toward their superior officers.
Martha strode forward without breaking pace, soldiers falling into step behind her. Stopping in front of an open field, she raised her voice.
"All units, out of tents! Form up in the field... now!"
Instantly, the camp fell silent. Soldiers abandoned whatever they were doing, the sound of metal clanking filling the air as they armed themselves and rushed into formation. Seven neat lines of warriors stood at attention.
"Captain!" they roared, fists tapping against their chests.
"Tmhp."
Zain watched in silence, his gaze sweeping over the assembled fighters. More than a hundred soldiers stood before him, their bodies hardened by battle. Most were men, built like walls of muscle, though a handful of women stood among them. Some bore fresh wounds, bandages wrapped tightly around their limbs. Others were missing arms or legs, yet their eyes shone with unshakable determination.
They either loved their captain or feared her. Maybe both.
"Listen up!" Martha's voice carried across the field. "I'm introducing a new member of our legion today."
Zain, lost in thought, barely registered the words until he heard his name. Suddenly, every soldier's gaze turned to him, and hushed murmurs spread through the ranks.
"Hey, isn't he the guy Captain saved from the battlefield three days ago? Lucky bastard," one soldier muttered, gripping his axe.
"Wasn't he the one who awakened while fighting a Tier-1 Crawler?" another whispered.
"I thought he was done for after getting poisoned by Corpse Poison… How the hell is he still alive?"
Zain shifted uncomfortably. He had never liked crowds. After everything he had been through in his past life, social interaction felt foreign to him.
"Silence," Martha ordered. Her sharp tone cut through the murmurs.
"This is Zain. From now on, he's your brother, so treat him like one. I'm placing him in the Seventh Unit." She turned slightly, locking eyes with a man in the crowd. "Arthur, train him properly."
A smirk tugged at her lips.
Zain felt a chill crawl down his spine. He followed her gaze and found himself staring at a man in his thirties, grinning like a predator sizing up its prey.
Something told Zain he was in for trouble.
"Now, listen up. We're stationed here for the next few months. Reports say waves of undead will be passing through this area. Stay alert at all times and focus on raising your cultivation tier. The real battle starts when we face the Vampire Lord."
The air around the soldiers grew heavy at the mention of the Vampire Lord. They had already lost three units in battle against one. Vampire Lords stood at the apex of the undead race, possessing Tier-6 or 7 cultivation with top-tier or even perfect-grade regeneration ability, the kind that allowed them to restore their entire body from just a single drop of blood.
With that, she disappeared. One second she was there... the next, she was gone.
Zain let out a slow breath. "I have to get stronger."
A voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"So, you're Zain, huh?"
He turned to see Arthur approaching, hands in his pockets. Blonde hair, blue eyes, lean build. There was an easygoing smile on his face, but something about it felt… off.
"Welcome to the unit," Arthur said. "From now on, you call me Leader."
Zain said nothing as the man clapped a hand on his shoulder.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "How'd you survive a battle against the undead with this body?" His gaze drifted toward the massive black war axe strapped to Zain's back. He exhaled through his nose. "Ah. I see."
Zain winced slightly at the firm grip on his shoulder but kept his expression blank.
The other members of the Seventh Unit lingered nearby, watching with curiosity. Their captain had personally brought this guy in... he had to be special, right?
Arthur's voice rang out again.
"Fun time! Everyone, move to the battle arena."
Before Zain could react, Arthur grabbed him by the collar and dragged him across the camp.
The training area was a natural battleground. Fallen buildings formed a rough perimeter, their debris creating makeshift walls and even seating for onlookers. The center was a wide, open space... a hundred-meter-square battlefield.
Without warning, Arthur hurled Zain forward. He hit the ground hard, landing flat on his back.
Pain shot through his spine as he scrambled to his feet.
Twelve soldiers were already waiting inside the ring, their eyes locked onto him like hungry wolves.
"If you want to be one of us, you have to fight," Arthur said, crossing his arms. "You don't have to win. Just prove yourself."
Zain tightened his grip on his axe.
His gaze hardened as he raised his hand, pointing straight at Arthur.
"I want to fight you."