I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl - Chapter 253

Chapter 253: Chapter 250 – Fractured Faith and the Shadows Buried Beneath
The spring fog hung low over the northern coast, swallowing rows of silvery-white tents that stood tightly packed, like the scales of a sleeping dragon. The Church’s banners fluttered weakly in the salty sea wind, their golden crosses reflecting the light of the torches flickering at every corner of the camp. Yet behind that glittering display, the air was heavy with something unseen tension, fear, and prayers that felt hollow.

The faint sound of clashing metal echoed in the distance. Soldiers checked their swords, sharpened their spears, and adjusted the worn straps of their shields. Whispers of prayer rippled through the air, some quiet, others trembling.

“They say… the Zombie Queen has begun to move,” murmured a young soldier, his face pale beneath his helmet.

“Are you sure that’s not just a rumor?” his comrade replied, glancing warily toward the fog-covered hills.

“No,” he said quickly. “I heard it from Captain Alric himself. He said the undead army’s moving from the island’s center. Black chains appeared in the sky last night.”

Their voices faded into the hiss of the sea breeze, carrying the scent of salt and iron.

At the center of the camp, a larger command tent loomed above the others, guarded tightly by knights clad in white armor. Inside, several of the Church’s high officers gathered around a wide table covered in maps and glowing communication crystals.

The blue crystal at the table’s center flickered, unstable, projecting a hazy image of the island they occupied. Red dots moved across its surface indicators of Sylvia’s forces now on the move.

“Look! They’ve left their main fortress,” one officer said tensely. “Their formation’s spreading, they’re not defending. That means… they plan to strike first!”

The tent erupted with alarm. One of the commanders slammed his palm on the table. “That’s madness! We’re not ready! The Gate of the Underworld isn’t fully open yet they should be waiting for the demons to emerge and reinforce us!”

“Enough.”

The deep voice came from the right side of the table. A man with gray hair stood tall, his golden armor reflecting the crystal’s light. He was General Velmor, one of the Church’s supreme commanders at the front. His gaze was sharp but behind it lingered unease.

“We are waiting for the gate,” he said slowly. “But the Queen clearly isn’t. If she’s moving first, our strategy changes. We hold the coastline at least until they appear.”

The word “they” sent a shiver through the tent. It referred not to men, but to the creatures of the Underworld.

…..

Outside the command tent, the fogged drizzle had yet to stop. In the far west, faint red light pulsed in the sky in the direction of the gate. Each throb made the air itself quiver, pressing against the chest of anyone who stared too long.

One of the young clerics standing guard looked up, his face pale. “…It’s getting stronger. Like something’s trying to force its way out.”

His partner glanced toward the glowing horizon, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Are you sure they’re… on our side?”

No answer came.

…..

Back in the command tent, a female officer in dark blue uniform burst in, her cloak damp with fog, breath ragged.

“Additional report from the western flank, General!” she said, kneeling. “The Underworld Gate’s energy fluctuations are increasing faster than expected. But… there’s something strange.”

Velmor’s eyes narrowed. “Strange how?”

“The energy… it’s not as chaotic as before. It’s as if something or someone is holding it back from the inside.”

Murmurs spread. The rustle of cloth and armor filled the air as officers exchanged uneasy glances.

Velmor frowned deeper. “You’re certain? The creatures of the Underworld don’t restrain themselves.”

“I don’t know, sir,” the officer said quickly. “But the scrying mages report a faint blue light around the cracks in the gate. A light that… isn’t of the Underworld.”

Blue light.

A color not seen on the Church’s battlefields for many years.

Velmor froze. For a moment, his thoughts spun, recalling an old legend: the hero who once opened that gate, and vanished soon after. A hero long believed to be dead.

“Arwen…” he muttered under his breath. “Impossible…”

Yet something within him whispered otherwise. That blue light he recognized.

…..

Far below the earth, in another world layered beneath, before the pulsating red-black gate that beat like living flesh, a lone man stood still.

His blond hair was disheveled, his face pale, but his eyes glowing blue shone steady as he faced the monstrous gate. The air around him was thick with heat and the stench of scorched metal and sulfur. Cracks along the ground glowed faintly, releasing bursts of black energy that tried to consume everything.

The man raised his right hand, pressing it toward the air. A glowing blue magic circle appeared, spinning rapidly with intricate symbols. Each time the gate flared red, the circle absorbed the energy, stabilizing it.

“You’re still trying to break free, huh…” his voice was low, heavy with exhaustion. “You think I’ll let you out again after everything you did last time?”

The gate flashed crimson, pulsing violently, as if answering his defiance.

Arwen’s lips curved into a weary, bitter smile. “You forget… I was the one who opened your path before. I also know how to seal it.”

A thunderous boom shook the cavern as a massive shadow writhed behind the gate, slamming against reality itself. But the blue circle in Arwen’s hand pulsed harder, layering a new seal atop the old, fractured one.

Sweat trickled down his temple. The magic gnawed at his body, eating away at his strength, yet his gaze remained firmly fixed on a single faint symbol above, marking the world aboveground.

“…I won’t let the Church or the gods use me again,” he whispered. “If this world must change, then let that change come from someone else this time.”

…..

Meanwhile, above ground, the Church’s army stirred.

Command shouts echoed from all directions. Lines of knights formed a crescent across the shoreline. Archers and mages took position on the dunes. White light of protection spells spread over the front ranks.

“Shield wall! Hold until they close in!”

“Catapults reload with blessed stones! Hurry!”

“Clerics! Reinforce the western barrier!”

The noise merged into a tense symphony of war.

But behind their movements, panic still shimmered in every soldier’s eyes. They knew who they would face the Queen even the gods could barely control.

The sky began to shift. The white spring fog deepened to violet, and a faint stench crept with the wind not the odor of decay, but something older, heavier, suffocating.

One sentry atop the watchtower stared toward the forest miles away. His body stiffened; his hand trembled as he pointed.

“…They’re coming.”

From the violet mist, hundreds of shadows emerged one by one. Tall, twisted forms with burning red eyes, rusted black armor, and chains rattling in the wind.

Sylvia’s army.

A deep drumbeat rolled across the land slow, steady, as if the world itself had fallen into a death rhythm.

General Velmor stood at the front lines, sword drawn, its edge catching the crimson sky. “All units! Ready yourselves! Do not fear, remember, the Light of God is with us!”

Yet even as he shouted, doubt flickered in his eyes. For above the forest mist, a lone figure stood suspended in the air, her black gown flowing, long hair streaming, and glimmering chains spiraling around her like a crown.

Sylvia Hortensia.

Even at this distance, her gaze cut through the fog. Those red eyes alone felt like death’s summons.

Velmor raised his blade high. “Holy War… begins!”

The trumpets blared a long, trembling note that shook the air.

And at that same moment, deep below the earth before the gate of the Underworld Arwen gritted his teeth, holding back the roaring surge of power. “Just a little longer… Zombie Queen… I hope you’re ready for the storm to come.”

The cracks widened. Blue and red light clashed violently, shaking the world.

Above ground, Sylvia’s army advanced.

Chains of death whirled.

Purple flames rose.

And the world stood ready to witness not merely a war between life and death, but between faith, sin, and the buried truth long forgotten.

The violet mist danced around her figure, lifting gently with each pulse of the black chains on her back. Sylvia hovered above her army’s front line, her gaze piercing the distant horizon where the Church’s white-and-gold ranks glimmered faintly through the haze. The damp spring air whipped her long black hair, carrying the scent of iron and wet earth.

From that height, she saw everything.

Thousands of soldiers stood below zombies, vampires, ogres, dark elves, even beastkin clad in dark armor forged in the castle’s forges. A sea of darkness stretching endlessly.

But across the fog, the Church’s colors white and gold moved as well. Their magic lights flickered like stars, beautiful, but revolting.

Sylvia pressed her lips together, exhaling slowly.

“…So we’ve come to this.”

Her black chains spun slowly, the metallic rasp blending with the rising wind. The torchlight of the undead army painted fleeting crimson hues across her pale skin.

“…You’ve come with such numbers,” she muttered coldly. “And it’s only spring.”

Her eyes dropped to the front ranks to her generals standing ahead. Celes on the left, her sword drawn, spatial aura trembling around her like a storm. Aurellia in the center, left hand raised, her spellbook floating open, its pages turning despite the still air.

Alicia and Stacia stood to the right, calmly watching the formation. Behind them, the zombie mages had formed a massive circle, ready to unleash their spells at her signal.

Sylvia took a long breath, her voice soft yet echoing through every soldier’s mind, carried by her soul resonance.

“…You all know,” she began quietly, “our enemy this time is not only human. They come bearing the blessing of gods, wielding the light that has long stained this world.”

She raised her right hand. The chains around her tightened, glowing with violet-blue light that made the air itself tremble.

“But listen well… their light is no salvation. It is merely a fire fed by the bodies and prayers of those they sacrificed.”

A low rumble rippled through the army.

Sylvia lowered her hand, her expression softening but only barely. It was the kind of gentleness colder than steel.

“We do not fight for destruction,” she whispered. “We fight for freedom from the hands that even claim dominion over death itself.”

Celes bowed her head slightly, a faint smile touching her lips. “As always… your words could stir the dead.”

Aurellia chuckled without turning. “And they make my blood boil before every battle.”

Stacia closed her book, her eyes glowing with pale blue light. “The air here is thick with energy… one spark, and everything will burn.”

Sylvia smiled faintly. “Then let’s give them that spark.”