Chapter 118: This is enough

Jonathan, sensing the urgency, made quick decisions to deal with the new threat. "Focus on the mutants! Rear guard, be ready for their speed!" he ordered, his voice sounding authoritative amid the turmoil.

The battlefield became a chaotic dance, a deadly exchange between the defenders and the mutant zombies. The sound of metal clashing with decay grew louder as the mercenaries struggled with the unpredictable nature of their enemies. The archers, who had to adjust to the mutants' speed, fired a volley of arrows with more accuracy, aiming for vital spots to stop the threat.

The mutants, however, were not easily stopped, their constant advance posing a serious challenge to Lunaria's defenders. The soldiers and the captain, who were watching the changing battle from a safe distance, considered their options as the outcome of the skirmish was uncertain.

As the fight went on, the mercenaries faced a new level of difficulty. The mutants, with their agility and speed, pushed the limits of the mercenaries' determination. Amid the chaos, the battlefield became a stage of survival, with each slash of a sword and release of an arrow deciding the fate of the kingdom against this evolving threat.

"Damn it! If you can't hit the mutants, then just shoot your arrows in the air! And hope that some of them hit them!" Jonathan's voice pierced the chaos as he fought the approaching zombies, his eyes fixed on the mutants moving through the battlefield.

With a burst of strength and resolve, the mercenaries fought head-on with the endless horde. Shouts of defiance filled the air, a collective declaration: "We can do this!" Morale boosted, they pushed back against the wave of zombies, using medieval weapons with a renewed confidence.

However, the mutants, with their incredible speed, closed the gap, threatening to break the delicate balance of the battle. "Do not fear them! They are just zombies, only faster!" Jonathan's voice echoed, encouraging the mercenaries. "Follow me! And let's kill these bastards!" he yelled, then charged towards the mutants alone.

At first, hesitation lingered among the mercenaries, but witnessing one of their own facing the mutants head-on ignited a collective spark of courage. With a shared battle cry, they rushed to Jonathan's side, determined to confront the mutated threat together.

The clash intensified as the mercenaries, led by Jonathan, engaged the mutants in a desperate melee. Swords clashed, arrows flew, and the mutants, swift and agile, proved challenging adversaries. The battlefield transformed into a chaotic spectacle, a dance of steel and decay under the pale light of the afternoon.

Jonathan, in the forefront of the skirmish, fought with unwavering determination, his every move calculated to counter the mutants' agility. His comrades, inspired by his bold stance, fought side by side, creating a united front against the evolving threat.

The air crackled with tension as the mercenaries faced this new challenge, their medieval weapons cutting through the night with a symphony of clashes. The mutants, relentless in their advance, tested the limits of Lunaria's defenders, who fought not just for survival but to prove that even in the face of the unknown, their resilience would prevail.

The clash with the mutants intensified, the battlefield becoming a whirlwind of action and chaos. The mercenaries, inspired by Jonathan's fearless leadership, fought with a newfound unity. Swords swung, arrows whizzed through the air, and the mutants, though agile, found themselves facing an onslaught they hadn't anticipated.

Jonathan, at the forefront, showcased a blend of skill and tenacity as he strategically engaged the mutants. His movements were precise, anticipating their erratic lunges and strikes. The mercenaries, following his lead, formed a cohesive unit, adapting to the mutants' speed with each swing of their medieval weapons.

Despite the challenges, the mercenaries pressed on. Shouts of determination echoed through the night, punctuating the rhythm of the ongoing battle. The archers, adjusting their tactics as instructed, released a volley of arrows into the air, hoping to find their mark among the mutants. The rear guard, standing firm, shielded their comrades from the relentless advance of the undead.

The battle raged on, as their fate hung in the balance. The mutants, though formidable, met a relentless defense, proving that even in the face of this unforeseen threat, the kingdom's defenders would stand united.

Jonathan, sensing the ebb and flow of the battle, shouted strategic commands, orchestrating the mercenaries to exploit weaknesses in the mutants' movements. The mercenaries, their resolve unwavering, fought with a synergy that defied the odds.

In the midst of the chaos, the soldiers and the captain watched the evolving battle. The mercenaries, armed only with medieval weapons, showcased a resilience that spoke of their determination to survive. The mutants, once a seemingly insurmountable challenge, now faced the unyielding spirit of the mercenaries.

The night air crackled with tension as the clash continued. The mutants, despite their speed, found themselves outmaneuvered by the mercenaries. As the battle reached its climax, the mercenaries held their ground, proving that even against an unforeseen threat, the strength of unity and determination could turn the tide.

The company group, now reduced to a mere hundred exhausted survivors, faced an unrelenting horde that showed no signs of relenting. The toll of the battle was evident – casualties littered the battlefield, and weariness hung heavily over those who remained. Amidst the chaos, a growing sense of abandonment settled among the mercenaries as they perceived the higher-ranking officers paying little heed to their plight.

"My men! Stand up and do not give up! We have come this far! Do not let those bastards discourage you! This time, we will end them!" Jonathan's rallying cry echoed through the beleaguered group. With his sword in hand, he stood defiantly at the front, facing the approaching horde.

As the zombies closed in, their moans and growls creating a chilling symphony of death, Jonathan's eyes bore a fierce determination. He looked at the horde, undeterred by the overwhelming odds, and shouted, "Come at me! And you all will face hell!"

The mercenaries, spurred by Jonathan's unwavering resolve, found a renewed spark within themselves. Though battered and fatigued, they rose once more to meet the impending onslaught. Swords were raised, arrows drawn, and a collective roar emerged from the ragtag group as they prepared for one last stand against the relentless tide of the undead.

The night air hung heavy with tension as the mercenaries fate teetered on the brink. The soldiers and lieutenants, previously distant and seemingly indifferent, now observed the determined stand of the mercenaries. The contrast between the unwavering spirit of the frontlines and the apparent detachment of the higher-ups became starkly evident.

Jonathan, a lone figure standing against the encroaching horde, embodied the defiance of the mercenaries. The battlefield, now illuminated by moonlight and the occasional burst of fire from arrows, became a stage for a final act of resilience. As the clash between the living and the undead reached its zenith, the fate of the kingdom hung in the balance, resting on the shoulders of a weary but determined group of survivors led by Jonathan.

As the battle reached its crescendo, the captain's commanding voice cut through the chaos. "This is enough, they all passed," she declared, a smile playing on her lips. The mercenaries, momentarily bewildered by the sudden shift in command, took a collective breath as the intensity of the battle subsided.