On the fifth day, all the Amazons who had participated in that night raid lay quietly in the isolation ward. Natural energies drawn from across the dungeon enveloped them, wrestling against the curse that brought withering.
The druids possessed some resistance to the Wither Pact's curse and would not die until the natural energies they could command were exhausted. Tarsha had no druids here, so she had to make do with the natural aura. It could neither eradicate the curse nor halt its progression; it merely slowed the process considerably. For now, that was considered a blessing. Little remained of normal wildlife in Angaroth Forest. If the human army could see the animals wandering slowly through the woods, observing their appearance resembling old specimens, they would know in advance what fate awaited their own wounded.
"This is the result of a collaboration between a high-level necromancer and the Withered Covenant," Victor stated. "The Covenant needed to extend their spell's effects to animals, while the necromancer sought new methods to create undead armies. They've achieved partial success."
The naturally-powered watchtower was temporarily unusable (a testament to the mixed blessings of the dungeon's current minor nature affinity), leaving ghosts to peer at the human army from the surface. Tasha witnessed the curses they cast spreading back upon themselves. Later, the army broke camp and hastily retreated toward a nearby town.
After channeling natural energy to counter the curse, Tashar could faintly sense traces of the Withered Covenant's magic lingering. They claimed the Withered Curse lasted only five days, yet she still felt that unsettling atmosphere shrouding the ground. Out of caution, she refused to send the Amazons up to test it with their flesh and blood. The humans above ground proved excellent test subjects. Watching them slowly mummify, Tasha grew certain humanity held no solution to this affliction.
Meanwhile, the underground labyrinth never rested.
Passages steadily extended toward human settlements, disguised as natural caverns. At regular intervals, trapdoors crafted by artisan dwarves were installed—a safeguard against anyone digging toward the labyrinth. These one-way doors looked and felt indistinguishable from the rock walls. Unless Tashar activated them herself, they remained impenetrable from the other side—not even axes or swords could breach them. Yet when the dungeon needed to deploy troops outward, the trap doors slid open effortlessly, becoming completely unobstructed.
The first mutated corpse was buried in the human cemetery. Tashar had already envisioned the future.
Deerhorn Town's urban planning was surprisingly advanced—centuries ahead of the medieval fantasy setting Tashan had imagined. Certain public facilities truly reflected human civilization's progress: underground sewers kept the town free from sewage, public latrines improved sanitation... Yet for Tashan, the finest public amenity was undoubtedly the cemetery.
It felt like striking a vein of ore.
Deerhorn Town had existed in the southeastern corner of the Erian Empire for at least a century. During this time, all the remains of its residents had been collectively interred beneath the cemetery outside the town, thanks to the custom of burial. Goblins gnawed through the rotting bottoms of coffins. These organized grave robbers paid no heed to burial goods; they sought the corpses themselves.
Tasha built her own burial ground beneath that tomb, where corpses were transported and reburied nearby. The new cemetery was packed to capacity, and this bountiful harvest would bolster the Undercity's undead army considerably. While ghosts on one side watched the human army retreat, and ghosts on the other observed the first batch of soldiers sent back from Antler Town stiffly rising to their feet, the Undercity's armory operated without pause.
As the first slain Withered Soldier was buried in the cemetery secretly claimed by Tasha, a new notification appeared.
"New undead species detected in your cemetery. Cemetery upgraded."
"Bury skeletal remains with over 60% flesh integrity and over 40% bone integrity to consume mana and generate zombies (Withered) of varying quality within a set timeframe. Higher integrity remains yield higher conversion success rates."
"Zombie (Withered): Slow-moving, durable against repeated strikes. The added flesh on their skeletons makes them harder to shatter with a single blow. A sturdy meat shield among cannon fodder, cheap cannon fodder among meat shields. A product of the Withered Covenant's collaboration with necromancers, this mutated variant has a longer shelf life than regular zombies but cannot spread toxins over large areas through decaying fluids."
Victor's description of zombies closely resembled the undead and zombies depicted in Earth's films and television. They roamed relentlessly, attacking living creatures to satisfy their insatiable hunger and hatred for the living. These standard zombies continued to decay, dripping toxic bodily fluids that contaminated water sources and soil. If these fluids entered wounds, they carried a chance of poisoning weaker individuals, transforming their corpses into new zombies.
"Truthfully, corpse poison isn't particularly effective," Victor remarked. "Melee tanks can withstand it—even the most basic warriors possess enough resistance to fend off minor wound contamination, suffering only superficial injuries at worst. Weak spellcasters have even less to worry about. Clerics' area-of-effect purify spells are undead magic's nemesis, and mages of all schools have several banishing incantations. Even fragile spell-less classes like rogues can endure the effects until they reach a city to buy antidotes. The Withered Zombie is definitely an improved unit."
Withered zombies aren't walking venom bombs, nor do they slowly rot into skeletons—sounds far more eco-friendly. Tashu still commands many flesh-and-blood living soldiers. She doesn't have the vast wealth of those who own entire territories; with so little ground under her control, less contamination is better.
Speaking of which, are soldiers even considered warriors?
Tasha wasn't sure if today's soldiers could compare to the professional adventurers of the past. But one thing was crystal clear: the residents of Antler Town were definitely just ordinary civilians.
Zombie venom isn't very useful?
Tasha wanted to introduce Victor to a series of films called Resident Evil.
The withered zombies didn't drip corrupted fluids, but the description didn't say they'd completely lost their ability to infect. The ghost watched the wounds on the surviving residents as they retreated, still shaken. Now, all that was left was to wait.
Wait for humanity to find a solution, then Tasha would use it to cure the Amazons in the dungeon. Or, if humans proved equally helpless, Tasha would wait for them to collapse without a fight, then use their blood to honor the dead within the dungeon.
The outcome grew clearer by the moment.
If humans had known what was coming, why did those residents and soldiers scream in terror at the rising undead? If they possessed mages, clerics, or antidotes to resolve this, where were those people and resources before the first bitten individual rose upright?
Tasha began to suspect that most of the former soldiers were likely resistant warriors. That's why they passed down the notion that "our own kind cannot be infected" as common knowledge—perhaps later generations never even knew the infected transformed into zombies. Later, druids, the Withered Covenant, and necromancers vanished from public view. Warriors who hadn't encountered them in ages were like a new generation no longer vaccinated against an extinct virus. When the ancient pathogen resurged, they were as helpless as their ancestors facing the disease for the first time.
Secondary carriers bit their loved ones and slowly shuffled onto the streets. Military forces rolled out onto the avenues once more, but this time, they couldn't gradually eliminate these threats as they had before.
The cemetery outside the town cracked open with a thunderous rumble, revealing a vast cavern from which shadowy figures continuously crawled outward. Sunlight glinted off these "people's" pallid skulls or shriveled skin. Skeleton soldiers wielded bone blades, while a few mummified corpses, neither quite human nor fully dead, mingled among them. The graveyard keeper was petrified with fear—he never managed to shout "enemy attack" before the blade touched him.
The undead army surged into the main street in overwhelming numbers. Only then did the human forces realize the gravity of the situation. Residents along the route had long since fled or gone into hiding; no one had the courage left to come forward with warnings. The oppressive presence of the mummies was even more unsettling than the skeleton soldiers—they bore the familiar faces of the townspeople, likely buried only recently.
Armies of the dead and the living clashed in close quarters on the streets of Antler Town.
The battle raged fiercely and chaotically. The narrow streets made street fighting impossible for volleys of crossbow bolts to be effective. Humans were sturdier than skeleton soldiers, more agile than zombies, and more organized than mindless undead; the undead, however, could continue fighting even with injuries severe enough to incapacitate humans, charging relentlessly, wave after wave. The battle reached a temporary stalemate, but the wise knew that the longer it dragged on, the slimmer humanity's chances became.
A few quick-witted soldiers chose desertion.
They chased down a skeleton, hacking at it until it vanished from their comrades' sight. Before the undead could close in, they darted into a secluded alleyway and scrambled over a low wall. They noted skeletons and zombies could scarcely leap, too dim-witted to scale walls or break down doors. The soldiers burst into a dwelling, charging straight through and kicking open a room. A family huddled together let out a sharp cry. The lead soldier pressed his blade to their throats, ordering them to be quiet.
"Bring the monsters here and we'll kill you!" the soldier threatened. "Hand over... hand over your most valuable possessions, then lead us to the cellar or the safest room!"
His companions drew their weapons as well, glaring menacingly at the family. They'd already decided to flee this place—who'd want to be cannon fodder where hordes of monsters roamed? To hell with "for Erian." They'd joined the army to scrape by, not to die. Grab some travel money and get the hell out.
Perhaps the sight of several burly men wielding weapons was too terrifying. The family trembled like leaves, their legs weak, unable to utter a sound. The lead soldier grew impatient, ready to convince them with his blade. The father of the family raised a trembling hand, pointing at them.
No, pointing behind them.
The man at the back coughed, spitting out a mouthful of blood-tinged foam as he stared at the blade protruding from his chest. The moment it was pulled free, his towering frame collapsed.
Behind him stood a... a what?
At first glance, it resembled a hybrid of skeleton and zombie—a white skull atop a body covered in flesh. Upon closer inspection, the limbs exposed beneath its leather armor were smooth and vibrant. The torso resembled that of an ordinary woman, but what "ordinary woman" had eyes glowing with crimson ghostly fire? That skull wasn't even human bone—it belonged on some skilled hunter's wall.
The blade-wielding monster met their gaze for a single second.
The nearest soldier roared and charged, swinging his standard-issue sword at her neck. The strike carried enough force to sever the slender vertebrae, but the creature deftly sidestepped. As the soldier passed by, she swung her blade, the edge plunging diagonally into his nape. The soldier clutched his neck and collapsed to his knees. The monster tilted her head, seemingly dissatisfied with this half-hearted attack. She took a step back and delivered a follow-up blow.
The severed neck, now disconnected, dropped to the ground.
The thud of the head hitting the floor jolted the remaining soldiers awake. They simultaneously gripped their weapons tighter and charged forward, swinging their blades chaotically. Amidst the dense flurry of swords, the monster suddenly crouched low, rolled forward, and rolled out of the attack range. One soldier's sword jammed into the floor during a slash. Two others reacted swiftly, closing in before the creature could steady itself. It dodged one steel blade but couldn't evade the other. Raising its arm to block, the sword plunged deep into its light leather armor, blood dripping from the wound.
"It bleeds!" exclaimed a soldier.
The arm drooped, bones likely fractured. Discovering their foe was flesh and blood boosted the morale of the three surviving deserters. They furiously attacked the creature's torso and body. Though it dodged most blows, the wounds multiplied.
One soldier struck the creature's shoulder, his blade sinking deep into its right shoulder with a crack that shattered bone. The steel blade jammed between the bones, but the soldier gritted his teeth and grinned. The other two seized the moment, thrusting their weapons fiercely into the creature's chest. At last, they all breathed a sigh of relief—surely no one could fight back with such injuries.
No one could.
The inhuman creature lunged forward, carrying the three weapons embedded in its body toward the soldier directly in front of it. Earlier, three had surrounded it, and one long sword had pierced its back, the tip protruding from its chest. Its full-force lunge struck the soldier head-on, the blade protruding from its chest piercing the man who had been celebrating victory.
The remaining two soldiers recoiled in stunned horror at this suicidal assault, terrified of being dragged into hell by this monster.
This was not the right choice. They had miscalculated one crucial thing: this monster was not yet spent. She did not intend to drag a few more souls down with her in death.
Her hands seized the hilts of the blades embedded in her body. With a low growl, she wrenched them free, one after the other. Blood spattered, staining the ground like a slaughterhouse. The fleeing soldiers stared in horror, unable to comprehend what she was doing, unable to fathom how she could stand unbroken despite such injuries.
The reason was the same as why her hands still moved freely.
Tasha stood on solid ground, the dungeon mere meters below. Magic seeped through the earth, mending her body. Torn muscles and shattered bones began to heal, lost blood replenished. She hissed through the pain, grateful for that head—her cries of agony transformed into menacing growls, her contorted face hidden from view.
The soldiers watching Tasha return to her former self wore expressions of utter despair. They posed no further threat.
"For your battlefield debut, this is pretty pathetic," Victor remarked. "A few punks managed to push you to this state."
"Yeah."
"Hmph, even if you deny it..." Victor began his habitual retort, then froze mid-sentence.
"I said, yeah," Tashan replied.
In hindsight, Tashan could pinpoint where her reactions were too slow, where her calculations fell short—a real brawl wasn't like the TV shows where everyone took turns fighting while others cheered wildly from the sidelines. Four soldiers posed a significant threat to her. If not for her self-healing cheat, the one lying here would have been herself.
Yet, in that first battle, Tasha glimpsed the door for the first time.
Bringing this new body to the surface was largely to test whether the ground cursed by the Withered Covenant was now safe. This body resembled the Amazonians'—disposable and replaceable, immune to the curse. But when she impulsively joined the fight, Tasha truly grasped the essence of "combat" for the first time.
Previously, using the Full Moon skill felt like surrendering her body to an attack instinct. Now, every step was her own achievement, and every mistake was her own fault. She could identify her problems, analyze her errors, and gain confidence to improve in the future. The Amazons' sparring sessions had consistently overwhelmed Tasha. It wasn't until her first battle against an ordinary human that she realized how far she'd progressed from her former, utterly powerless self. For the first time, she tasted the exhilaration of a hard-fought, narrow victory. The wounds stung, and the intense exertion left her slightly weary, yet combat was more than this—far greater than this.
It was the exhilaration of temporarily shedding endless calculations, challenging her physical limits within the confines of her body.
Tasha realized she loved this.
Victor had likely prepared counterarguments for her rebuttal, but when she readily admitted it, he was left speechless. Only after the last soldier fell and Tasha prepared to leave did he speak again: "Hey, there are still four people back there."
Tasha turned to see the family huddled tightly in the room, trembling in unison. The youngest child let out a sob as she looked back, and both parents scrambled to pull him closer.
"No benefit. Waste of time," Tasha replied curtly.
She turned her head and continued walking out, casually closing the door behind her. Under Tasha's command, neither the skeleton soldiers nor the zombies would attack residential buildings or assault unarmed civilians. Antler Town was now regarded by Tasha as property soon to be hers, and she had no intention of causing further damage.
Outside, on the streets, there were still plenty of people for her to practice on.