As the two boys—both Kael and Elis—made their way back to Korn, they passed by the wreckage that Kael had created along the way. The shattered amphitheater. The gutted classrooms. Bodies of wolves which Kael had sneaked up on and jumped.
Passing all of the bodies that littered the ground both Kael and Elis look at the damage that was done.
Each corpse was a marker. A reminder of who Kael had to become to survive.
Elis, ever radiant, barely glanced at the dead. His divine aura had dimmed slightly, like an ember banked beneath ash, but it was still there. Steady. Unshaken. He walked with clean posture, his golden blade slung across his back, his boots never once slipping on the blood-slick concrete.
Kael, on the other hand, limped. His jacket was torn in two places, and his ribs throbbed with every step. He leaned on his spear like a crutch, jaw tight, breath shallow.
"You cleared all this?" Elis asked finally, his voice low but tinged with something close to admiration.
"Yeah, I did. I only won because I snuck up on them," Kael said. "I have to use my wits to get the upper hand. I can't fight 'em head-on like you."
"There's a little more to me than just charging in head-on, you know," Ellis replied.
"Yeah, I know. I'm just jealous you got a blade—art from an Archangel himself."
"Don't be jealous of what His Holiness gave me. You have the System, and we both know this is our new reality. If you keep a good head on your shoulders, you'll turn out to be an excellent warrior in His vision. I'm sure of it," Ellis said with a cheerful swing, patting Kael on the shoulder.
Kael shook his head and didn't bother responding to Elis. He just kept walking, spear in hand, jaw set. The trail of carnage he left behind stretched in broken silence behind them—but ahead, the air had changed.
As they reached the courtyard outside Korn Dorm the same one that Kael found the three beastkin, Kael froze.
This wasn't how he left it.
Laying on the group where a bunch of zombie corpses tens of them.
"You really did clear this place out, huh," Elis said, glancing around.
"This wasn't me," Kael replied flatly.
"What do you mean it wasn't you?" Elis asked, confused.
"I mean I didn't kill those zombies, last time I was here their were three beast like humanoid monsters with just a few dead around. Nothing like this." Kael says telling the issue of the place.
The whole area felt off.
Shadows flickered behind shattered glass. The smell of smoke and rot choked the air. And then—they heard it.
The sound of a thousand footsteps.
Soft at first. Then louder. Heavier. Coming from every direction.
"You hear that?" Kael asked, already knowing the answer.
Elis slowed beside him. "Yeah. It sounds like a horde of people. Or a horde of…"
He trailed off.
Eyes locked with Kael's.
"You don't think—"
"Shit!" Kael snapped, breaking into a run despite the pain still gripping his side.
Elis followed, blade drawn.
They rounded the corner—
And chaos unfolded.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of zombies clawed at the building. Some were already through the first layer of barricades. Others climbed the walls like insects, swarming over windows and hammering at doors with rotting fists. Inside, Kael spotted flashes of movement—students piling furniture, shouting, trying to brace the final entrance.
"We can't fight that. There's no way," Kael said immediately after seeing the giant horde.
"But if we don't do something, everyone inside is going to die," Elis said, his body tense—like he was itching to charge into the fight.
Kael knew Elis was right.
He started to brainstorm, trying to find a way through the impossible.
But then—her voice cut into his thoughts, calm and sharp.
"Look closer. Toward the back of the horde. You should see a rather tall, lanky zombie."
Kael's eyes shifted, scanning past the masses of twitching limbs and gnashing teeth—until he saw it.
Standing still among the chaos.
Tall. Almost human in posture. Its body was sheathed in dark, bone-like armor, black as tar and jagged like a carapace. In one hand, it held a cane—no, a staff—resting calmly like a general observing his troops.
Seraphiel spoke again, her tone heavier now.
"That is a Gravecursed. A zombie that has begun walking the path of domination. They act as hive leaders—capable of controlling the mindless dead around them."
Kael swallowed hard.
"At this level, their influence is limited… but still dangerous. Kill it, and the horde will break formation. They'll lose focus—enough to buy you time."
A pause.
"But be careful. That one is not mindless."
Kael sighs hearing her answer as he was hoping to get a one that would allow him to kill all the zombies using like a ritual or something but this will do.
"Alright," Kael muttered. "We kill it."
"Huh?" Elis asked, confused.
Kael pointed toward the back of the horde. "You see that tall, lanky zombie with the staff? The one just standing there?"
Elis followed his gaze, eyes narrowing.
"I'm guessing that's the leader—or at least something important to the horde. Look at how it's not even moving. Just cracking its jaw like it's bored. It's controlling them. I can feel it."
Kael's grip tightened on his spear.
"If we take that thing out, I bet the horde breaks apart giving us and the people inside some breathing room."
"I like it. But what's the plan?" Elis asked, eyeing him carefully. "I can still fight for a while, but you… you don't look so good."
His gaze lingered on Kael's side—where the blood had soaked through the torn jacket. Probably a broken rib or two. Maybe worse.
"You'll draw the leader's attention—pull the horde with it," Kael said, eyes locked on the Gravecursed in the distance. "I'll sneak around and try to take it out in one blow… unless you've got a better idea."
Elis was quiet for a beat, mulling it over.
"No," he said finally. "That should work. But can you do it?"
Kael let out a dry chuckle, the sound bitter and low. "I'll have to. Unless you want everyone in that dorm to die."
Elis cracked a faint grin. "No pressure, then."
"Alright, let's do it. You go ahead and draw their attention," Kael says as he starts to make way to the other side of the horde to get a better angle of attack.
He moved fast and low, sticking close to shattered walls, fallen pillars, and piles of rubble—anything that could give him cover. His breath was shallow. Every step sent a jolt through his side, but he pushed through it.
As he crept along, he glanced back.
Elis stood still at the edge of the battlefield, sword held upright before him, eyes closed like he was praying.
The golden blade rose in both hands, held high above his head. His eyes snapped open, gleaming with conviction. Divine glyphs flared across his arms and chest, burning like brands beneath his skin.
And then—he roared.
"BY THE LIGHT OF MICHAEL!"
His voice cracked like thunder.
Dozens of zombie heads jerked toward him. The horde reacted instantly, like a swarm shaken from slumber. Snarls echoed through the courtyard as the undead turned to face the radiance.
Elis ran straight into them.
Not cautious. Not careful.
Righteous.
His blade arced down like a comet, carving through the first corpse with blinding speed. Light erupted on impact—golden fire searing through dead flesh, reducing it to ash in a heartbeat.
Another zombie lunged.
Elis pivoted, cloak flaring behind him, and drove his sword through its skull with a burst of holy flame.
He didn't stop.
He couldn't.
Because now, they were all coming for him.
And behind the horde, the Gravecursed watched—its head slowly tilting, staff tapping once against the earth.
Kael swallowed hard.
That was his cue.
Kael vaulted over shattered stone and torn earth, pain screaming through his side—but he ignored it.
'Die, you bastard!' he growled in his mind, eyes locked on the Gravecursed's exposed back.
His feet slammed into the ground with force, each step a jolt, each breath shallow—but his focus never wavered. He channeled everything—every ounce of rage, desperation, and momentum—through his body.
From the heels of his feet, through the twist of his hips, into the core of his arm.
His spear became an extension of himself.
Silent. Deadly.
The silver-grey blade shimmered faintly, as if tempered by the flame burning inside him—Kael pushing his might to its absolute limit.
The spear cut through the air like a promise of death, aimed straight for the Gravecursed's spine.
It didn't turn.
Didn't flinch.
Kael struck.
The spearhead slammed into its back—
CRACK!
The blow landed with a sickening crunch, driving deep into its armor-plated flesh.
But—
The Gravecursed didn't fall.
It only staggered forward a single step.
Then slowly… it turned its head.
One vertebra at a time.
Its jaw creaked open.
And it smiled.