Seer, they probably wouldn’t even need to do that, there were bound to be a few adaptors in the horde who would just melt the fortification down with their disgusting acid.

That was if they could get close enough, volley after volley pelted the swarm, the linemen and infantrymen were hurriedly repairing and firing at incredible speeds, averaging a shot every minute.

It was an unsustainable pace and would result in a destroyed mana vein, requiring potential years to repair but that wasn’t really important anymore considering they had no future.

This was their last stand.

This was their last moments.

This was their time.

The age of mages had come and gone, now was the age of musket and blood.

And they would ensure this age lasted, giving their all for Francia.

For progress!

For humanity!

For the Seer!

Bertrand’s cold heart had once again grown heated now that the battle was underway. Soon they would be scaling the walls and that was when he would take part in the battle.

And yet despite this resolve of his, when a great burst of flames erupted into the sky from the outstretched hands of a mage on one of the rooftops, Bertrand felt relieved.

The flames looked like a twisted tornado, sweeping up into the sky and then curving downwards, impacting the ground a few dozen yards away from the wall.

The blistering heat made the defenders clench their eyes shut and hold their breath.

It also wiped out hundreds of zombies, reducing them to ash and it setting countless more aflame.

Seer, mages weren’t called the Seer’s shields for no reason.

And yet despite this immense display of power, when the flamenado faded away, the zombies once again pressed forwards.

Many of them were on fire and would be dead had they still been human but they weren’t humans anymore. They were twisted parodys of humanity, and had no resemblance to humans beyond their looks.

They didn’t feel.

They didn’t dream.

They didn’t scream as they burned.

They were no longer natural beings, but rather unnatural abominations.

As pathetic as it may have been, many of the soldiers including Bertrand Looked over at the mage, hoping that they would send out another great attack to prevent the horde from getting to the wall.

The sight they saw was anything but reassuring, the mage was slumped over, blood erupting out of their mouth like water from a fountain from the mages mouth like a fountain.

So very much blood was leaking out from them that it had already pooled together and was sliding down the roof, like rain droplets forming a stream of water.

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Then the mage went from vomiting blood to coughing out hunks of actual flesh, Seer they were spitting out their internal organs.

Almost everyone was focused on this demoralising sight, which meant that when a voice yelled out “RETREAT!” Nearly everyone heard it.

It helped that it was immensely loud, making it capable of being heard even over the sound of the zombie stampede.

Attracted towards the source of the shout, Bertrand and many others saw an officer standing in between two ruined houses.

A company of grim faced infantrymen stood at his back, muskets unslung and ready to fire at the first sign of danger.

Had it been anyone else, the defenders would have refused, even a runner would be ignored.

That was the level of self sacrificial mindset they currently had.

The words of the officer brought them back to their senses though, and suddenly the idea of dying didn’t seem as appealing to Bertrand.

And judging by the large number of defenders who were scampering down ladders or even jumping off the wall, it seemed they felt the same way.

Bertrand didn’t even bother climbing down the watchtower ladder, choosing instead to grab the sides of it and slide down.

It made his descent far faster but in his haste he gained a fair few splinters.

Boots impacting the roof, he made sure to bend his knees to help divert the force, just like he had been taught.

It would almost have made him look like a veteran skirmisher had it not been for the fact he had bent them too much, falling over onto his arse and hitting his head against the hardwood as a result.

Rather than being energised by the pain though he instead zoned out.

Only coming back to his senses when he turned his head sideways and caught a glimpse of burning figures pulling themselves over the wall.

The zombies had arrived.

Quickly getting back onto his feet, he took a few bold steps over to the edge of the roof and then leapt off it.

This time he nailed the landing, knees bending the perfect amount, allowing him to quickly regain his footing.

Over the chaos of the retreat he managed to hear the officer yell out another order. “GET BACK TO THE FORT!”

Why the officer felt the need to clarify the fairly obvious retreat point was beyond him and he couldn’t spare the time to ponder it.

With his newfound fear of death powering his legs he stormed through the streets.

Racing forwards towards the command section, the sounds of musket fire and screaming behind served to intensify his rapid pace.

If he ever lived to see tomorrow he wouldn’t be able to even lift his pinky toe.

As he passed by checkpoint after checkpoint of prepared soldiers readied to slow down the horde, he almost felt safe.

Unconsciously slowing down

But every time he passed a new checkpoint he heard screams ringing out from the old one, which reignited his terror and spurred him onwards.

At a certain point, he almost wanted to turn around and fight alongside his fellow soldiers.

But that would negate their sacrifice.

They were dying so that he could get back to the fort and secure it against the zombie menace.

He would be far more useful fighting there rather than dying at an overrun checkpoint.

Eventually, lungs burning and limbs shaking, he made it to the command section.

Unlike the hurriedly put up fortifications of the checkpoints this segment of town contained actual defenses.

Layers of wooden planks which had been shattered into numerous stakes were rammed into the ground everywhere, making it a pain to move around but the benefit of slowing down the zombie tsunami made it worth it.

After navigating his way through the spike traps and through a few heavily guarded streets he made it to the fort.

The fort was a collection of houses all merged together, wooden planks snaked out of the windows, creating hazardous walkways.

The streets and alleyways had all been blocked off, or turned into gatehouses.

It was far from impenetrable but it was no easy target.

After shouting out his name to prove he was human, he made it through one of the gate houses and entered the fort.