I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl-Chapter 359 - 355 – Four Directions, One City

Time passed faster than anyone realized.

The days that once felt long and filled with preparations now crumbled one by one like sand slipping through fingers. The Nocture mist never truly lifted again; it hung thick and permanent, as if the city itself were holding its breath, waiting for something immense and inevitable.

And that something finally arrived.

From afar, long before the eye could see it clearly, the earth had already begun to speak.

Subtle vibrations rippled through the dead soil beyond Nocture’s walls not a harsh earthquake that toppled buildings, but a heavy, rhythmic pulse, like the synchronized footsteps of a giant army marching in unison. The zombie birds on the watchtowers flew low, their cries echoing as warnings. The death crystals along the walls trembled faintly, emitting a brighter purple glow than usual.

The armies were coming.

From the south, war roars resounded. Enemy lycanthropes, beastmen, and human forces blessed with the light of ancient gods advanced. From the east, ranks of old Earth humans with mutated technology weapons marched alongside fanatic priests and white-armored soldiers. From the west, creatures from other worlds, lured by promises of light and salvation, gathered under alliance banners they barely understood. From the north, heavy dwarf forces, light elves, and special mutant human units moved in disciplined formation beneath the calm hover of eight-winged archangels in the gray sky.

Nocture was surrounded.

Completely.

Yet inside the black castle, the atmosphere was the complete opposite.

The castle garden remained serene.

Black roses bloomed undisturbed by the distant booms. The pool of dead water reflected the crystal light like a still mirror. A gentle breeze carried the scent of black mushrooms and damp earth, as if the great war that would decide the city’s fate was merely a distant rumor.

In the center of that garden, Sylvia sat on a black stone bench, legs elegantly crossed, one hand resting casually on the armrest. Her black dress was simple, no armor, no visible weapons except for the Chain of Abyss coiled quietly around her wrist like a sleeping living bracelet.

Sofia sat beside her, slowly brewing tea. Her golden hair flowed freely today, her eight wings neatly folded. Lucifer’s spear was left behind, propped in her room. Her face was calm, though her golden eyes remained alert.

Alicia leaned against the trunk of a dead tree growing in the garden’s corner. Stacia hovered low in the air, her feet nearly brushing the ground, gray mist swirling around her body like a thin cloak. The little treant sat in Sylvia’s lap, its small branches moving slowly, occasionally dropping black leaves to the soil.

They were relaxing.

Not because they underestimated the war.

But because this was never their war to fight.

"The circle is complete," Stacia murmured softly, her eyes fixed on the gray sky. "They really came with everything they had."

Sofia poured tea into Sylvia’s cup, then her own. "The Alliance of Light is always like that. They never do things halfway when they want to destroy something they can’t control."

Sylvia accepted the cup, took a small sip, and gave a slight nod. "Good. The greater the force they bring, the clearer the message they’ll receive later."

Alicia chuckled softly. "And the louder their screams when their plans collapse."

The little treant raised a small branch. "Plop."

(I like screams.)

None of them moved toward the battlefield.

Because they had agreed from the beginning.

They were the final weapon.

If Sylvia had descended from the start, the war would have ended too quickly. The city would be saved, yes. But the people of Nocture would remain spectators, not participants. They would live forever under their queen’s shadow, never truly standing on their own.

And Sylvia did not want that.

This war... was a test.

Not for her.

But for Nocture.

...

In the main command room, the situation was entirely different.

The massive obsidian strategy table was covered with a three-dimensional holographic map. Purple and red lights marked the enemy troop movements from all four directions. Reports poured in without pause, communication crystals vibrating almost every minute.

Velthya stood at the southern side of the table, her lycanthrope body in half-transformed state. Her fangs were visible, her yellow eyes blazing sharply. Thick leather armor covered her form, adorned with the symbols of Nocture’s wolf clan.

Zark stood at the eastern side, tall and rigid, still wearing his usual formal black attire. His bright red eyes scanned the numbers with the cold calm typical of a zombie from old Earth.

At the western side, Celes stood with arms folded, her silver hair tied simply. Her expression was relaxed, almost lazy, but her purple eyes scanned the map with lethal precision. Behind her, several elite zombies from other worlds stood silent, their auras heavy and alien.

And at the northern side, Aurellia stood the calmest of all. Her red sorceress robe draped elegantly, her staff planted firmly in the floor. Around her, representatives of dwarves, shadow elves, mutant humans, and four zombie angels stood neatly, awaiting orders.

Celes broke the silence. "Alright. As planned. We divide the battlefield into four main zones."

She pointed at the map.

"South," she continued, "is open terrain. Dead hills and thin forests. Perfect for fast combat and night assaults."

Velthya nodded, a low growl rumbling from her chest. "Let them come in deep enough. We’ll strike from the shadows. My clan is ready."

"East," Celes said next, "is old ruins flatland. Lots of collapsed old-Earth buildings. Narrow terrain. Ideal for attrition warfare."

Zark nodded slowly. "The zombies from Earth are used to that environment. We’ll drain them slowly. No frontal assaults. Just constant pressure."

"West," Celes went on with a faint smile, "is the most unstable zone. Many old-world and other-world rifts. The perfect place for... flexible forces."

She glanced at the otherworldly zombies behind her. "Let them feel lost. We’ll make them fight the terrain itself."

Finally, all eyes turned to Aurellia.

"North is the heaviest battlefield," Celes said. "Enemy dwarves, light elves, elite mutant humans, and archangels. The thickest holy light is there."

Aurellia nodded, a small smile curving her lips. "That’s my zone. Nocture dwarves have positioned crystal cannons on the cliffs. Shadow elves will blanket the sky with illusions. Zombie angels will disrupt their air formations. And the mutant humans... will face something not written in their holy books."

She tapped her staff on the floor. "We hold. Not win quickly. We make them frustrated."

Velthya grinned widely. "So we all agree. No one seeks instant victory."

"Correct," said Zark. "We make them bleed slowly."

Celes laughed softly. "Sylvia will definitely like this."

There were no long farewells or dramatic speeches. After Celes finished assigning the zones, the four commanders simply exchanged a brief look and a silent acknowledgment that they were Nocture’s backbone tonight. Then, without further orders, they moved.

Velthya leaped from the strategy table, her massive form landing with a soft thud on the obsidian floor. She didn’t run; she walked with broad strides that made the ground tremble. Behind her, hundreds of her clan’s lycanthropes already waited in the castle corridors. When Velthya appeared at the southern gate, they fell into perfect formation, row after row of half-transformed wolves, yellow eyes glowing like embers in the mist. Their low, unified growl echoed not as a threat, but as a declaration: We are ready, and we will not retreat.

Velthya’s forces moved steadily, disciplined, like a silent black wave. Every step synchronized, every breath measured. From afar, the human and beastmen forces in the south who saw them emerge from behind the dead hills fell silent. Their swords blessed with Ares’ fire suddenly felt lighter in their hands. There was something in that formation not just strength, but absolute calm that made human hearts race unevenly. A priest in the enemy front line muttered a prayer, but his voice trembled. "They... they don’t look afraid."

Zark moved next, his strides long and silent. His black coat fluttered gently, his red eyes unblinking. The zombies from old Earth followed like living shadows thousands of bodies that had died once, now marching with mechanical precision. Their stolen plasma weapons glowed faintly, cracked armor still intact. When they reached the eastern ruins, their formation became an unyielding wall of the living dead. The old-Earth enemies who saw it felt as though they were staring into a horrifying mirror: faces similar to their own, but without pain, without fear. A mutant soldier whispered, "That’s... that’s like watching the death march."

Celes walked casually, almost as if on an evening stroll. But the otherworldly zombies following her were no ordinary troops. Six-armed creatures, three-headed beings, bodies fused with machines they moved as one giant organism. Their formation wasn’t rigid; it flowed, shifting shape to match the rift-filled western terrain. When they appeared on the western horizon, the light-blessed otherworldly forces instinctively took half a step back. Some shouted, "They’re not normal zombies... they’re like living nightmares!" Celes merely smiled, waving her hand lightly as if inviting the enemy closer.

Aurellia moved last, but her presence was felt the most. As she stepped out of the castle toward the north, four zombie angels floated behind her like personal guards. Nocture dwarves pushed massive crystal cannons, shadow elves merged with the mist, mutant humans marched in mythril-modified armor. Their northern formation was the densest and most intimidating a black-purple wall that did not waver even as Thor’s lightning began to crackle in the sky. A lesser archangel under Seraphiel, watching from above, immediately ordered his forces to halt for a moment. Their holy light flickered, as if hesitant to face such orderly, unshakable darkness.

The four forces moved in unison, heading to their positions without chaos or haste. Their movements were steady, disciplined, almost like a rehearsed dance of death. The enemies watching from all four directions felt the same thing: not just physical threat, but deep psychological intimidation. Nocture was not a city in panic or despair. Nocture was a city that was prepared and that was far more terrifying than any chaos.

In the castle garden, Sylvia took another sip of her tea, listening to the brief report from the crystal.

"They’re in position," Zark said flatly.

Sylvia gave a small nod and set down her cup.

"Good. Let them begin."

Sofia rested her head on Sylvia’s shoulder, her voice soft. "They’ll be fine."

Sylvia smiled faintly cold, but full of certainty. "Of course. This is Nocture."