Once again his dreams were invaded by nightmares.

Horrific monsters of warped bone and tumorous flesh hunted him down.

He wasn't quite lucid dreaming but nor was he fully dreaming. So he knew something was wrong he just didn't know what.

Finally, after dying dozens of times to those monsters, he woke up.

Feeling unrestful despite his long sleep, he grabbed his beamer and headed out of the tent.

He didn't even bother heading to get breakfast, it was foolish and he knew but he simply wanted to be alone.

For the next twenty minutes, he waited at the meeting point for his team, stalling his hunger with a few bites of jerky.

After devouring a whole strip his team showed up and after a brief conversation they departed.

Well most of them did, one of the infantrymen had to stay behind to lead another squad through the woods and point out the ambush sites to them, just in case.

So this time rather than stalk through the forest, they instead took the road.

The sun beating down on their backs made them almost wish that they had been assigned to the forest instead.

But the memory of that poor deer’s corpse dissuaded them from actually requesting to be dispatched back into the woods.

Despite the obnoxious rays from the sun and the lack of wind to help cool them off, it was actually a rather pleasant if demanding walk.

They weren't actually supposed to be doing much active scouting, they were just going to get to the end of the small forest and thats when they were meant to start scouting around.

Then when the vanguard arrived they would assist in setting up the camp.

It was a peaceful assessment, but Bertrand was still on guard from the awful nightmares he had during the night.

Perhaps that was why he noticed them first.

A small horde of zombies was charging towards them on their right flank, they had burst out of the ground like antlions.

Clearly, the commander they had slain had actually delt some damage to their coordination because if they were actually still intelligent then they would have waited for the wagons to pass by before launching their attack.

Seer what had the skirmishers sent over to their right been doing. They weren't exactly the largest force but they certainly should have been noticeable.

Cursing Bertrand unslings his beamer and opens fire, while the infantrymen get into a rough firing line.

His beam tore through the zombies at the front, knocking them backwards and causing the whole zombie horde to collapse into a rough heap on the grass.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

He kept on firing though, cleaving through the messy mass of collapsed zombies, turning heads into puddles and pulverising limbs and organs.

Soon enough though his beamer ran out of power and he had to reload, in the few seconds it took for him to swap out the used mana cube for a new one the horde had already risen to their feet.

And were once again charging at them.

At least until Bertrand unleashed his second beam, once again pushing them back and obliterating some of the more unlucky amongst them.

Before his beamer could run out of power though his mana vien burst.

Causing the beam to fade away, while bringing Bertrand to his knees, Seer did it hurt.

At least he had managed to slim down their attackers, the two dozen zombies were now only a baker's dozen strong and most were missing at bare minimum one limb.

While he tried to push through the pain and repair his mana vein the somewhat culled horde got closer and closer.

Still the infantrymen didn't fire, waiting until they were absolutely certain they wouldn't miss before firing.

The force of the shots punched cleanly through necks, partly or fully decapitating zombies.

Each and every one of the infantrymen had aimed for a headshot and as though the Seer was guiding them, each one had hit their mark.

That still left three zombies sprinting at them but it was surprisingly easy to kill them in melee.

With some mild grappling and a few stabs the infantrymen had taken care of them, he didn't even have to get up.

The only real risk with the basic zombies was their numbers, at least as far as Bertrand could tell.

After reloading and repairing their mana veins they continued forwards.

Encountering no further zombies or any signs of them.

When they passed the edges of the forest they began to walk in a large circle, establishing a basic perimeter around the area.

For the next three hours while waiting for the wagons to arrive, they patrolled around the plains, alongside a few other teams who were assigned to the same mission they were.

When the wagons did arrive it was almost a relief.

Finally Bertrand had something to do other than stare out at the grassy plains, while the sun abused him.

Walking over to help out alongside his team, he worked hard to set up the countless tents, and also dig out a bunch of small holes in the ground.

Normally it was to trip up horses but it would probably work just as well for the uncoordinated zombies.

When he and the other twenty people working on the traps were finally done, the sun was already setting.

Walking unsteadily back to his tent, Bertrand was going to wipe off the sweat covering him and put on some new clothes.

He changed directions when he saw his squadmates though, choosing to instead walk over to them first.

“Hey, how have you guys been?” he called out to them when he was just a few feet away.

“Pretty good, just been looking through the forest for any unwanted surprises, how about you Bertrand?” Césaire said.

He looked rather worn out, with sap covering his black tunic and a few cuts on his arms.

It was Francois who Bertrand was most surprised by though. Normally whenever Bertrand saw him he was wearing a fleece jersey. Even during their time as a response force, when they had to walk down the hot road without any shade to protect themselves from the sun. Francois would still wear their jersey.

“I’ve been doing okay Césaire, few groups of zombies here and there but nothing truly life threatening.” He replied, he was going to ignore Césaire temporary to ask a question of his own about Francois but that would be rude.

Not really sure of what more to say, he just waves awkwardly at them before walking off towards his tent.

“Wait, Bertrand before you go.” Césaire yells out, running over to him.

Before Bertrand could even ask him what he wanted, Césaire had grabbed his hand and placed a pouch in it.

“Congratulations on your promotion Bertrand.” Francois called out from behind Césaire.