"Hold them off! Hold them all off! Just wait for Lord Ulriel and his men to arrive!"
The captain in charge of the night watch shouted frantically at the chaos unfolding on the castle walls.
These undead rats weren't particularly strong individually; an ordinary adult could handle one with ease. However, the venom in their teeth was comparable to a supernatural disaster—it could quickly transform any bitten human into a low-tier living corpse. Luckily, this toxin had no effect on supernaturals. Otherwise, these defenders would have had no hope of resisting.
"Captain, it's bad!"
A soldier ran up in a panic, his face filled with despair.
"The corpses buried beneath the castle… they've all come back to life."
"What?"
The captain shivered at the news. Are you joking? The corpses buried beneath the castle must at least be knights who had reached the supernatural level.
Although the Ashton Baron's domain's top fighter had long since fallen—the third-tier knight, Baron Ashton—he had no ability to resist a fourth-tier like Ulriel. Dealing with these low-tier undead minions would have been easy.
"Damn it, where the hell is Lord Ulriel? Why isn't he here yet? At this rate, we're all dead!"
The captain roared, swinging his sword to cleave a living corpse that lunged at him in half. He had lost count of how many corpses he had slain, but the number was high—his fine steel longsword was starting to dull from use.
Meanwhile, several newly risen third-tier undead charged toward them.
Facing a third-tier enemy, the second-tier captain and the group of first-tier knights present were frozen. Even a single glance had already killed or injured several of them. If this massacre continued unchecked, the roughly two thousand ordinary people residing outside the castle would be slaughtered long before Ulriel arrived.
"Damn it! All of you, step up! Otherwise, not only will you die, but so will your families!"
In that moment, for the captain to survive, he had no other choice but to threaten the ordinary people around him. After all, these civilians were cannon fodder—whether they died sooner or later made little difference.
Caught between the ferocious undead in front and the watchful supernaturals behind, the ordinary people completely broke down. Forward meant death, backward meant death. Since they were all going to die anyway, they might as well use their lives to protect their families.
But not everyone thought that way. As the saying goes, even ants will struggle to survive; these were people who had worked under nobles for years. A few clever ones realized the supernaturals only intended to use them as cannon fodder. Perhaps after they died, their families would also meet the same fate.
At some point, a roar suddenly erupted from the crowd:
"The knights don't want us alive! They don't even care about our families! Instead of dying for no reason, we should fight back! Only by killing the nobles can we have a chance to survive!"
"Yes! Kill them!"
Initially, only a few responded, but soon the cries echoed throughout the castle. Chaos erupted—ordinary people began revolting.
When the commoners no longer feared the supernaturals, the first-tier low-level supernaturals were just slightly stronger than ordinary people. They might handle ten opponents at once, but what about hundreds? Or thousands willing to fight to the death? They simply couldn't withstand it.
Fortunately, most people still tried to flee. As the majority ran for their lives, the newly risen third-tier undead finally turned their attention toward the supernaturals.
The squad captain was dumbfounded. How could Ulriel effortlessly use ordinary people as cannon fodder, yet here, they simply ran?
What he didn't know was that even Ulriel had to spend effort intimidating and coercing people to willingly die. With his fourth-tier strength, he could handle thousands single-handedly and thus treat them as disposable.
But what could the captain do?
The third-tier undead lifted its broken longsword and lunged. The captain had no chance—his instincts failed him. Even though he saw the movement, he couldn't avoid the strike. The sword pierced his chest instantly.
Blood gushed as the blade withdrew. His mind clung to a single thought:
"What is Lord Ulriel doing? Why haven't they come yet? Are we just another set of cannon fodder for them?"
He would never receive an answer. Blood loss chilled his entire body. He fell heavily to the ground, eyes fixed on the main keep of the castle. He desperately wished to see the powerful mage who had fought countless enemies alongside them, hoping he would appear, unleash his signature spells, and wipe out the undead.
But before his consciousness fully faded, no such figure appeared. Only a hoarse scream echoed from afar:
"The gates are breached! The undead are inside!"
Hearing this, the captain's awareness plunged into darkness, but his eyes remained fixed on the main keep, dying without peace.
At the same time, the castle gates were smashed open. Endless waves of undead poured in.
In an instant, the entire castle seemed trapped in a hellish inferno, filled with screams and slaughter. The castle was surrounded, the sole exit broken through, and only death awaited its inhabitants.
Perhaps the secret passages of the main keep could be the only way out. But a pitch-black night-shroud barrier had already enveloped the keep.