Forests evoke different feelings. On a sunny day with good friends, fresh air and shady trees lift your spirits. But at night, under darkness, forests turn eerie.

Especially on this battlefield.

When zombies turn their blades on their masters, what was once a precious asset becomes a terrifying weapon.

Fifteen zombies still moved. Only seven humans survived.

"Zombies sense heat and sound," someone said. "A soundproofing spell and an icy surface hide us."

True for uncontrolled zombies... Sadly, these were manipulated. Among them lurked a Vampire—Lilithia’s clone.

"Those who toy with corpses die by them," Lilithia murmured from afar. "Quite dramatic." She watched hidden survivors, wandering zombies, and her clone draining blood from the dead.

Verutan had almost asked, "Didn’t you expect karma for playing with lives?" But she recalled Lilithia’s past plea.

Growth strikes unexpectedly. In that moonlit moment, Verutan saw the brutal truth: survival meant killing. No justice, no laws. Just life or death.

Under the bloody scene, reality was stark.

Lilithia felt her power surge. Human blood burdened her least—easier to digest, since she was once human. Do Vampires avoid animal blood unless starving?

Her body shrank to a twelve-year-old’s form. Her genderless, female-looking clone grew more agile.

Lilithia sensed its vague will forming a "self." An ominous sign. She might die by its hand.

She knew the risks. But without this, she couldn’t catch up to Fiore.

A dull ache throbbed in her mind. Controlling zombies strained her spirit. Tulip Empire’s potions focused on healing, not mental recovery. What was their specialty anyway?

Still, fifteen zombies granted basic safety. Ordinary Intermediate Mages couldn’t touch her. Against an Advanced Mage... if no large AOE came, she might escape using corpses as shields. Or call Fiore—she had no shame in survival.

Instant death worried her most. One massive spell, and she’d turn to dust.

"Verutan, be useful," Lilithia snapped. "You’ve done nothing in this fight."

Verutan glared. "You think everyone plays as twisted as you?"

The scene was chilling. In this pitch-black forest, it belonged in a horror tale. Lilithia wouldn’t take the zombies. She’d leave them as ambush bait, disguised as ordinary corpses.

Crystal Orchid Empire would salvage bodies. Perfect.

"Does Crystal Orchid Empire have identity markers?" Lilithia asked.

Verutan hesitated. "Tulip Empire uses magic sigils, but only knights carry them. Irregulars like us? No."

Good. Lilithia avoided knights—they favored warriors like Fiore, not mages. Her zombies wouldn’t last three sword swings.

Lilithia stared at Verutan. "Can your ice magic make us as cold as zombies?"

Of course. Lilithia knew the answer.

"What’s your plan?"

"Hehe~" Blood seeped from Lilithia’s neck—a tiny puncture, like a sword thrust. "Come. I’ll give you one too."

Verutan stepped back. "Faking death to get carried off? Insane! Discovery means death!"

"Just agree," Lilithia grinned. "Or cast the spell and leave."

"I might twitch."

"Feign unconsciousness."

They tore clothes, smeared mud, and lay battered among corpses—as if ambushed. Except the freshly drained bodies.

War’s outcome was uncertain. Lilithia seized this chance. She couldn’t control many corpses, but hidden among them, she could pull off eerie tricks. Her blood could overwrite zombie marks. Poison.

This world had alchemy: antidotes and toxins. Lilithia was skilled. History proved such tactics worked with traitors. Who guarded against a zombie?

Like these dead—they never expected betrayal by their own tools. Crystal Orchid Empire’s pride was its weakness.

Only the undead worried Lilithia. Could those lifeless beings detect her living scent? She had no countermeasures.

If only she could drain undead blood... Lilithia stopped herself. Greed breeds ruin. Restraint defines strength.

Was corpse-infiltration a blacksmith’s duty? She didn’t know.

This mission used all her cards: herself, Verutan, her clone, fifteen zombies. She’d spread terror.

She’d planned for them to spread "Cain’s" name. Killing them all was regrettable. To make it shine again, she needed something grander.

Moonlight faded. Sunlight pierced the forest. Lilithia heard faint snaps—twigs breaking. Someone approached cautiously.

"Careful!" A voice spotted the camp remains and corpses. Bodies lay twisted, clearly ambushed. One dead girl clutched a sword, throat pierced.

"Tulip Empire! So treacherous!" The leader ordered after checking bodies. "Recover them! Withdraw! This place is unsafe. We don’t know where they hide."

Lilithia and Verutan were stuffed into a bag. Slightly troublesome. Her blood slowly pierced a tiny hole for air.

Verutan isn’t a fool. She won’t suffocate. Lilithia worried. But no movement. One mistake, and she’d die before Fiore arrived.