I Slack Off, I'm Happy!

Darlington's fortress lay in ruins, purple-black dried bloodstains everywhere amid rotting severed arms and limbs.

Looking down from the battlements, corpses wandered across the wilderness, swarming against the city like ants. Drawn by the scent of the living, they continually climbed toward the walls, forming dozens of black, dragon-like heaps.

These monsters knew neither fatigue nor fear of death. Having risen solely to destroy the living, they could not be stopped no matter how they were hacked with blades, cleaved with axes, pierced by swords and spears, crushed beneath stones and logs, or doused in burning oil.

Gradually, some of the undead became riddled with arrows, their flesh peeled back; some bore scorch marks, their limbs charred black; some had hollow eye sockets, their eyeballs dangling by exposed sinew; others had their bellies split open, their organs spilling out... As far as the eye could see, it resembled a painting of hell.

Worse still, once the corpses reached the walls, they would seize living people and savagely bite them. Even when they were driven back, the lingering corpse poison left the druids helpless. They could only watch the wounded soldiers die screaming.

The only thing they could do was cut off their heads before they were transformed.

Meanwhile, as the corpse horde moved, black caterpillar-like magical creatures burst from their bellies and scattered in every direction, causing severe secondary contamination.

Water sources, plants, and even human bodies were all corroded to varying degrees.

In just one week, all of Darlington had become a devastated wasteland, filled everywhere with the stench of rot and death.

If war had not been commonplace in this era, if barbarians had not constantly raided, and if every territory had not worked so hard to build fortresses, then Darlington, as a transportation hub, would not have