To the people of Bharata, such things were simply part of life—nothing to make a fuss about. But when the undead horde arrived, even they felt as though paradise itself was under siege.
After leaving Port Kendra, the undead army barely fought any real battles. Everywhere they went, corpses lay waiting—ready to be reanimated and added to their ever-growing ranks.
They didn't have to destroy many cities—just passing through a few villages, mass graves, and old cemeteries had already swelled their numbers to over a million!
Nor was this all: among their ranks now marched Ogre Zombies, corpse abominations, even Death Tyrants, and new Death Knights began to rise!
The stench of rot and corruption reeked to the heavens. Even from several kilometers away, Sharma the elephant-folk commander could smell the foul odor with his sensitive trunk.
His expression darkened and he spat on the ground, "Fighting these filthy abominations is an insult to me!"
Beside him, his elephant-folk comrade sighed. "Calm down, Sharma. Haven't you always griped that fate never gave you a chance for glory? If you hadn't been tied up at the time, you'd have been the one to banish the Abyssal Lord Montport from the Ridgecrest Plateau—the honor and praise should've been yours by rights!"
"But now, look! This is the perfect chance! The undead king who commands this horde of a million is every bit as dangerous as an Abyssal Lord. Defeat him, and your renown will rival that 'Nigel Charles' human, isn't that so?"
Sharma's mood brightened a little. He glanced ahead, the flames of ambition burning in his beady, round eyes. "Of course! If a mere Seinite can do it, there's no way the great elephant-folk can't achieve it as well!"
Proud of his heritage, Sharma's friend could only shake his head and smile.
While they spoke, the undead army drew ever closer to the city. Crawling ghouls took the lead, their rotten stench choking the air, followed by ranks of zombies and abominations. Behind them, skeletons marched with soul-fire burning in their eyes, radiating hatred for the living.
"Loose arrows!"
Sharma gave the order, his command swiftly relayed downward. The archers loosed volley after volley, arrows falling like rain.
But the undead were not human. They knew neither fatigue nor fear. No arrow volley could make them flinch or duck.
Like puppets controlled by strings, so long as their masters willed it, they would attack ceaselessly.
Countless zombies fell in the hail of arrows, but their bodies were quickly picked up by abominations or ogre zombies—some stitched into new monstrosities, others devoured on the spot.
The undead surged forward until they reached the city walls. Ogre zombies raised massive clubs and slammed them against the gates.
The walls thundered with the impact, trembling beneath the blows. Above, some archers stumbled in fright, unable to draw their bows any longer.
"I knew it! Humans are nothing but useless trash!"
Sharma cursed, then raised his voice in command: "Open the gates! Release the Holy Elephants!"
He lifted his golden holy symbol, emblazoned with the head of a great elephant, and recited a booming incantation—invoking power from a being even greater than himself.
At his words, golden light burst from the holy symbol. The resonant call of elephants rang out, and the holy behemoths slumbering in the city's fortress awakened!
These were creatures only the elephant-folk could command—invincible, sacred war-elephants. For thousands of years, it was by their might the elephant-folk clung to power, unchallenged at the top of the social order!
Behind the walls, soldiers scrambled to work the gates wide. The ogre zombies and abominations, thinking to smash their way in, charged—only to be met by a nearly six-meter-tall woolly mammoth, its white fur gleaming like polished jade.
It charged forward, massive legs like pillars of stone. Skeletons were obliterated with a mere brush. Its long trunk easily grabbed ogres and abominations, tossing them high into the air to crash down in shattered heaps!
Trumpeting, it charged ahead, its cry a harbinger of the undead's doom. Nothing could stand in its way—any who dared were instantly pulverized or left to die in agony.
And it was not alone. Behind it came a second, a third—each mammoth larger and mightier than the last—roaring as they turned the undead to dust!
Atop the wall, Sharma watched in pride, then glanced over at the nearby humans of the Heng River tribe, their faces filled with awe. He shouted, "See? This is the power of the Holy Elephants—the force that has always protected you!"
"The Holy Elephants are invincible! So long as you serve them faithfully and worship them devoutly, one day, they will lead you to glory!"
"Not only will we reclaim our sacred mountain—we will sweep across the world! Elves, gold dragonborn—even red dragons—will kneel at the feet of our holy elephants!"
He roared, and the soldiers were swept up in the frenzy, chanting "Holy Elephants Invincible!" with fanatical zeal.
But just then, from the horizon, a huge silhouette descended from the sky. Sharma squinted up, straining to see—only to realize it was a bone dragon, a flying skeleton monster!
It dove, targeting the leading holy elephant.
Terror gripped Sharma's heart. For all his talk, in his heart he knew—the main reason they had never taken the Ridgecrest Plateau from the Empire of Sein was the dragons. The holy elephants had never defeated dragons!
Even a regular adult white dragon on the plateau easily overpowered the elephants, let alone the reclusive silver dragons of Sein.
Would the holy elephants' helplessness before dragons be exposed to these wretched humans now?
He watched in rage—only to realize events were unfolding differently. The dragon didn't attack directly; instead, a jet-black figure leaped from its back, wielding a greatsword, slamming the blades into the holy elephant's neck!
In an instant, the mammoth let out a heartrending screech. Its beautiful jade-white fur faded to lifeless gray-blue. Moments later, it collapsed—now simply a massive, death-tainted mammoth, reeking of undeath.
And that wasn't all. The undead mammoth immediately spun, barreling into the next nearest holy elephant!
Sharma understood at last: the damn undead dragon knight was turning their greatest holy elephants into undead, forcing them to attack their own kind!
What blasphemy!
Rage and helplessness warred in his heart—but beneath it all was pure terror: if all the holy elephants were turned undead, would the city fall…?
He didn't dare finish the thought; even imagining it made his mind reel and his vision blur.
But just as he teetered on the brink of despair, something strange happened: the undead tide suddenly halted, and began to withdraw.
They all turned at once, shambling away—the undead holy elephant among them. It happened so fast, everyone was caught off guard.
"What's happening?"
The other elephant-folk beside Sharma couldn't hold back. Sweat beaded Sharma's brow as he swallowed hard.
"It's the holy elephants' miraculous self-sacrifice!" He had no idea what was happening, so he invented on the spot. "Their death-defending spirit inflicted such devastating losses on the foe, they had no choice but to withdraw!"
"Let's cheer for our self-sacrificing holy elephants! Today's victory is ours!"
He shouted, and a chorus of wild celebration echoed along the walls. News of victory spread through every street and alley. People embraced and wept tears of relief.
But this was only the beginning of disaster—far from its end…
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