We pushed forward, our footsteps echoing in the stillness, the undead horde trailing us like shadows. My heart pounded in my chest as I scanned the surroundings, searching for a way out, for anything that could give us an advantage. We couldn’t keep running forever. Just as I caught my breath, the sounds of battle faded into the distance, replaced by a sudden, eerie silence. My instincts screamed at me to keep moving, but the stillness was suffocating, pressing in from all sides.
I turned to Maya, about to speak, when the ground beneath us began to vibrate, the low rumble building into a steady thrum that resonated through the streets. I felt it before I saw it—a wave of undead, more ferocious than anything we had faced so far, pouring out from the alleys and crumbling doorways, their hollow eyes fixed on us with a renewed hunger. They moved faster this time, their once sluggish limbs now driven by some dark force that made them relentless.
“Move!” I shouted, raising my axe just in time to cleave through the nearest ghoul. Its decayed head rolled across the cobblestones, but before I could catch my breath, another took its place, clawing at me with bony fingers. I swung again, the blade biting deep into the creature’s chest, but the press of bodies was overwhelming. Maya loosed arrows in quick succession, each one finding its mark, but even she couldn’t stem the tide.
We were being forced back, step by step, retreating as the undead closed in around us. The narrow streets worked against us, funneling the horde directly into our path with no room to maneuver. Every time I thought we had a moment to breathe, more of them surged forward, driven by an unholy frenzy that made them almost impossible to stop.
“They’re coming from everywhere!” Maya yelled, barely containing her excitement as she notched another arrow, letting it fly. It found its target, but the undead just kept coming, climbing over the fallen as they swarmed toward us. I gnashed my teeth, knowing she was right. We couldn’t hold this position; we had to keep moving, or we’d be overrun.
“Back! Back, don’t let them bite you!” I shouted, slashing through a zombie that lunged at me. We found ourselves heading toward a large building; we were heading that way before the zombies came anyway, but now it felt less like a choice and more like the only option we had. It was as if the zombies were purposely funneling us there.
As we pressed forward, the fighting grew more desperate. The undead seemed to be everywhere, their rotting hands reaching out from every shadow, every corner. I was chopping the head clean off a particularly tall, lanky zombie when I heard Maya cry out—a sharp, pained yelp that cut through the chaos. I whipped around, just in time to see her stumble, her bow slipping from her hands as she struggled to maintain her footing.
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“Maya, what happened?” I called out, slashing through another zombie with my gauntlet as I moved toward her, then felling two more with my axe as I looked her up and down.
“Nothing,” she snapped back, her voice tense as she quickly bent down to retrieve her bow. “Just a scratch. Don’t look at me! Keep moving!” Her words were clipped, and her voice had lost its usual cheer. Maybe she was finally taking this seriously, but there was no time to question it further. The undead were closing in, and we had to get out of there.
We fought our way through the streets, every step a struggle as the undead pressed in from all sides. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the streets were slick with dark, unidentifiable fluids that made every movement treacherous. My arms burned with the effort of swinging my axe and the special sword gauntlet, the weight them growing heavier with each passing second, but we had to press forward, Elyria was here somewhere, I could feel it.
We fought our way through the streets, every step a struggle as the undead pressed in from all sides. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the streets were slick with dark, unidentifiable fluids that made every movement treacherous. My arms burned with the effort of swinging my axe and gauntlet sword, their weight growing heavier with each passing second, but we had to press forward—Elyria was here somewhere, I could feel it.
As we pushed on, the undead swarming around us, I stole a glance at Maya. She was lagging behind, her movements less precise, more desperate. I knew we couldn’t afford to stop, but something told me I needed to make sure she was okay—now. Before it was too late.
“Maya!” I called out over the din of battle, slashing through a zombie that lunged at me. I moved closer to her, cutting down another ghoul as I closed the distance. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She didn’t meet my eyes, her focus fixed on the horde in front of us. “I’m fine, Everett,” she replied, her voice tight and strained. She loosed another arrow, her hands shaking slightly as she notched the next one. “Just a scratch, remember? Let’s keep moving.”
Her words were clipped again. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. But the undead were relentless, and we couldn’t afford to slow down.
“We’re not out of this yet,” I said, smashing my weapons together to clear away the gore that covered them as we fought our way through another wave of zombies. “Stay close, and let’s find Elyria.”
It was then that I heard it—the distant sounds of another battle somewhere. It was faint but unmistakable. I stopped in my tracks, tilting my head to catch the direction. Northwest. It was coming from the northwest, towards what I guessed was the center of the city.
“Maya, listen,” I said, motioning for her to stop. We stood there, the noise of fighting just on the edge of hearing. Clashing steel, guttural roars, and the unmistakable cries of pain.
“That’s got to be Elyria,” Maya said, her voice tense with a mix of hope and fear.
“Or whatever’s holding her,” I replied, my jaw tightening.