As Tybalt retreated, he noted that the monster leading the pursuit didn’t seem to be able to raise its head anymore, which made it a bit less intimidating at least.

  I guess the flesh of the neck does a lot more work holding the head on than I give it credit for.

  That was the only thing that could explain the zombie’s head clinging on so stubbornly to the body after Tybalt’s slash. He knew he had used more force than the skeletons had required.

  He assessed the situation as he stepped back, trying to keep the greater than expected durability of the creatures in mind.

  Removing or destroying the head still seems like the best option…

  He did not even know for certain if other forms of injury would be fatal to these monsters.

  Is there an easier decapitation method I haven’t thought of?

  As he considered his options, the lead zombie continued to pursue him. It had not lost a step despite the slash to its neck, even as the head flopped grotesquely up and down on the slender remnant of the neck, and semi-congealed blood oozed slowly from the gash Tybalt had made.

  It was fortunate for him that he had killed more than his share of humans and other life forms before. It was his job, and despite his distaste for some of the specific missions he had been a part of, he had come to take some pride in the skill of killing—and even in enduring the gross aftermath of death. Otherwise, he recognized, he would have found the display quite disgusting. As it was, he only wrinkled his nose. The zombies’ odor was foul.

  As the monsters stepped into range again, he delivered another blow, stronger, and severed the lead zombie’s head completely this time.

  Then he quickly pulled the spear back, retreated another few steps, and decapitated the creature on the right. Tybalt had a handle on the amount of force needed this time, so the head went flying. In just a few seconds, he had chopped the heads off of both monsters, and their bodies tumbled to the ground lifelessly.

  The last zombie shambled at him, but Tybalt had anticipated that. He took it on his shield, used that to shove the creature away, and then stepped in and bludgeoned the monster hard on the head. There was a squelching sound and then the divine message.

  Easy, he thought, only breathing a little bit heavily. I could do this all night.

  He heard a much more noticeable sound of monsters shuffling, again from out of his blind side, and he turned.

  Shit…

  There were a half-dozen of the creatures now, a mix of skeletons and zombies. Tybalt still thought he could handle this number, but he did not like the direction the evening was going.

  How many would he be facing down by the end? A hundred at once? He doubted anyone he had ever met could handle that. An elite warrior could do it, but not Tybalt or any member of his squad.

  No, it will be fine, he told himself insistently. I just need to use the tactical thinking I learned in the Army. It has to have been good for something. Pick off the edges first, keep them from surrounding you, and—he glanced off to the side for a moment at the only physical structure he had seen inside the Tower of Death’s internal space. Now that he was closer, he could see clearly that the small stone building was the last remnant of what appeared to have been a castle once.

  There were bare foundation remnants all around that appeared to correspond to a large defensive structure, but all that still stood was a small stone keep, with crumbling stones and an uneven-looking roof. It probably partially collapsed in on itself, but seeing as it appears to be the only thing out here besides monsters and dirt, I can use that building for shelter if absolutely necessary.

  Until and unless he became overwhelmed, he had no intention of retreating to the keep, though. There was no reason to assume it was not populated with the undead itself. It was the only feature in this grim gray landscape for a reason. The purpose might be to trip up challengers.

  It was also possible that the tower would escalate the threat level once he entered the keep. Tybalt had never explored a dungeon himself, but he had heard of those places, where people determined to hone their personal power trained. Dungeons apparently adapted to some degree to the challenger’s proficiency, tactics, and resourcefulness. Towers weren’t dungeons, but perhaps there was a similar mechanic in play.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  If this place was like that, Tybalt needed to do as little as he could to escalate the challenge while still killing the monsters.

  He quickly turned his head back to the mixed zombie-skeleton crew. They had barely advanced in the moment or two he looked away, but he did not like seeing them moving at all, particularly the zombies. It was just uncanny, watching something that was almost human but so clearly not. They had faces, but they looked wrong in a way that was hard to describe. Dead eyes. Slightly off pallor. Tybalt knew he was pale, despite years of work outside, but he thought no human could be as pasty as these creatures without actually being dead.

  As he had these thoughts, Tybalt began circling around to get into a better position to face the undead threat. He jumped slightly as the monsters turned their heads to follow his movements. Then they shifted their trajectory to reach him together.

  He frowned. They have a sort of intelligence to them, huh? I had not realized…

  He wondered, if the monsters lasted long enough, if they could also learn from mistakes or from simply watching him fight. That could be a problem if the number of enemies kept increasing.

  At least they were still noticeably slower than him. He repositioned more quickly, accounting for the undead’s actions, until he was at an angle that forced them almost into a line, racing to see which ones would get to him first. The skeletons also seemed to be lagging behind the zombies.

  Hard to get much acceleration going with no flesh, he thought with satisfaction. Tybalt had the monsters right where he wanted them now.

  He closed the distance and went for the first zombie in line, swinging his spear in a wide arc to build up speed. As he lopped the monster’s head off, he was grateful once again for the apparently reduced weight of his body and equipment in this space.

  If not for that, I would probably be exhausted already. It was a grim thought, since he was less than one hundredth of the way through his task.

  As things stood, however, he was able to quickly recover from his slash, reposition his weapon, and slice through the necks of the next two zombies in line with a single stroke. One of the two collapsed as its head fell away from the body. The other, just like the first zombie Tybalt had fought, retained its head, though it flopped from side to side grotesquely, clearly even less attached than the last semi-decapitated one’s head had been.

  Observing the creature, Tybalt guessed that he had partially severed the spine. The creature seemed to have lost some of its control over its own movements with the weakened connection of the head to the body. Its arms shuddered and jerked uncontrollably, flailing randomly every few seconds, and its legs almost tripped over themselves, as it continued trying to pursue him.

  The skeletons tried to move toward Tybalt, but they had trouble getting around the newly clumsy zombie. Its almost random, spasmodic movements blocked them from advancing and even tripped one of the skeletons, causing it to strike the ground with all of its forward momentum.

  Tybalt wanted to laugh at the hapless undead creatures in that moment. Instead, he took advantage of the opportunity to lunge forward and stomp on the skeleton’s neck, severing the spinal column. Then he was darting back, on the retreat again, letting the clumsy zombie shield him from the remaining skeletons.

  After he took a few seconds to get distance and catch his breath, he finished off the disabled zombie with a chop to the neck. The head tumbled away and rolled along the ground. From there, two slashes of his spear destroyed the remaining skeletons. It was surprisingly easy.

  As he faced the next two groups, Tybalt got into a rhythm. Killing had been his trade for years. Practice made perfect. The undead were no different than the living in this respect. As he grew more proficient at slaying these new targets, his task became easier, though no less exhausting. Swinging a spear over and over, even in reduced gravity, took its toll.

  Thank the gods. I needed that. I was starting to weaken.

  He felt power surge through his body as each of his vital numbers increased and his health recovered a bit, dulling the pain in his head and arm. But he had no time to count his blessings. There were more enemies waiting.

  Over the next few hours, Tybalt faced increasingly threatening crews of skeletons, zombies, and mixed zombies and skeletons. They remained relatively small groups and seemed to cap out at twenty. As he finished off another squad, all skeletons this time, he sucked in deep breaths, no longer even wrinkling his nose at the smell of putrefaction coming from the zombie remains scattered around the landscape. It was just a relief to be breathing—and some form of miracle that he was still alive and fighting.

  They must have all been low level so far, he thought. Monsters could level up, just like humans and other living creatures, he knew. That was part of how the Nietian Kings of old had justified creating a standing army over the opposition of the nobility: to extinguish monsters that appeared in random areas of the land before they could become formidable. This place is trying to see what I am capable of. I cannot count on this state of affairs to go on. It will continue to test my capabilities… push my limits.

  Suddenly, he heard a bestial growl from behind him. The sound came from much closer than the horizon this time. Something had snuck up on him while he was distracted with the skeletons.

  Tybalt whirled around and saw, just twenty feet away, a burly humanoid creature. Its gray skin, slumped back, and wicked but intelligent facial expression made him freeze up for a moment. He could sense hatred and unnatural lust in those eerie green eyes. It was enjoying his shock. Looking for fear in Tybalt’s face.

  For the first time since arriving here, he was in the presence of a monster that felt, not almost human, but truly monstrous.

  The creature charged him.