Hundreds of zombies lifted their heads toward the falling "shooting stars," each impact sweeping across and incinerating the undead around them.The students assigned to watch the perimeter couldn't help but gasp in awe.At the place where those meteors appeared, a middle-aged old woman stood holding a pitch-black cloth, charred at the edges.
Each time she flicked the cloth, countless tiny specks appeared—like stars scattered across the cosmos—then gradually swelled, transforming into massive falling stars.
Hundreds of zombies burst apart, flesh and organs flying everywhere before being reduced to ash.
But what were zombies?They were symbols of immortality—of endless torment, of a ravenous, maddening hunger.
Their bodies regenerated.As long as their souls remained bound to this world, they would always rise again.
Within minutes, they stood up as though nothing had happened.But then the earth trembled, and a large-scale earthquake disaster began.
That elderly woman was a senior instructor from Gray Wall. She had been granted permission to use Tier-10 magic and high-rank mystical artifacts.
What she wielded was the Heaven-Calamity Projection Cloth, a relic capable of recreating calamities of equal rank that had once occurred or had been witnessed by its user.
Her mana attribute was Earth—specialized in vibrations and the manipulation of fundamental matter at high levels. Yet because there were still living people nearby, she restrained herself, using earthquakes to bury the immortal beings instead.
"Come!"
Lightning bolts rained down from the sky like divine punishment.Figures floating in the air gathered together, forming seals and chanting lines of mana incantations.
Instead of striking chaotically, the lightning divided into eight massive streams, falling upon eight separate points—forming an eight-point barrier.
Boom!!
The lightning grew more violent, as if channeling the fury of the clouds into the ground. It erupted, drowning the entire zone in white-blue light.
"Sealing complete…"The old woman murmured as she looked toward the area that had once been a shrine and a bustling neighborhood, once filled with laughter and life.
"We're not done yet!"
A voice from afar—Euni's—drew all eyes toward him.He was one of the nation's most gifted individuals, a sealing specialist, and the leading figure of this operation—his authority unquestionable.
He pointed at the shadowy figure bound by countless chains, his other hand clutching his own chest as he forced out his words.
"The root of the undead comes from that thing. Kill it quickly—if you don't, it will be too late."
The Earth Demon continued screaming. It had raged madly for over two days, unceasing.Yet everyone watching wore grim expressions, unwilling to take the risk.
For killing an eighth-rank demon like this wasn't difficult…The problem was that when such a creature died, its corruption would cling to most of the city. Many would lose their homes, and a city—any city—was essential. The loss of even one would cause political and economic turmoil throughout the empire.
"…If that's the case, we'll need an original phoenix feather and a high-rank ritual. Otherwise…"
A man in the distance—his bearing proud, almost aristocratic—spoke anxiously. His fear was clear: a single mistake in the ritual could destroy the entire city.
"…I'll do it."
…
Boom.
Tentacles burst from the ground and quickly latched onto corpses, parasitizing them and twisting them into grotesque zombie mutations.
A sword flashed, severing the neck of one corpse lunging forward.
Invisible raindrops fell from the sky like shards of glass, piercing through the undead, while shadow blades emerged from the darkness.
Rack ran with more than fifty others through a ruined street.The protective talismans hanging around his neck prevented zombification, but his blade was already dulled, his light armor shredded and held together by dried blood.
"Kill!"
He shouted, as if to revive his own spirit.Raising his sword, he cleaved off a zombie's arm, kicked another in the chest, then twisted gracefully, driving his blade into the eye socket of a third.
"AHHAAJFF!"
A cyclone of mana whirled around him, condensing into thin sheetlike planes. He thrust these planes toward the charging zombies, shattering them with a single thought.
The moment a zombie rushed in, fragments from the shattered plane spun back, some clinging to its arms and pulling it into the planar surface. Rack repeated the process on the rest.
Planar mana—stemming from a spatial-type mana core—allowed him to generate specific planes.
He spread both arms, forming a straight line.A thin circle appeared in each hand, connected by a straight line. Rack rotated his arms, shaping a circular plane inscribed with mana symbols.
Crackle—crackle!!
He stabbed his sword into the center of the circle, drawing hundreds of zombies from afar with the noise and mana. They surged like a disgusting tidal wave.
Crack!
The blade pierced through the circular plane—and space distorted.Everything except him and the zombies shattered into tens of thousands of small rectangular planes, like stacked cards.
With a single thought, countless "cards" shot forward, skewering the zombies. Blood splattered everywhere, only to be immediately absorbed into the surrounding planes.
Crack!
He pulled his sword free, and space returned to normal.But the zombies could no longer move.They could not regenerate—because they weren't injured; they simply no longer had bodies left in their original positions.
Rack collapsed, vomiting up the potato bread he'd forced down earlier.Clutching his face, he sank onto the rubble.
He stared at the puddle of bile and red clots—like he had contracted some cursed disease.
He tapped his wristband, trying to call for support… but then gave up as he saw shadows rushing past.
People like him were the ones who cleared the path for the true battle ahead.It was finally time for him to rest.
Seeing the silhouettes streak past in the distance, he pushed himself upright, wanting to watch the battle unfolding ahead.
"Extreme Spiral!"
The twisted lights gathered, compressing into a small orb resting in Euni's hand.Beside him hung a white-painted wooden mask shaped like an eagle.