Mike slowly opened his eyes and stretched.
"Hah… that was a good nap," he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat up. "Didn't even realize I fell asleep."
He looked around—and immediately froze.
All around them were piles of corpses.
Wolves. Goblins. Orcs. Mutated beasts. Hundreds—no, Tens of Thousands—of them lay scattered across the field. Some were frozen solid. Others were crushed, burned, or drained of life.
Mike stared blankly for a moment.
"…You really weren't joking," he muttered.
Lily smiled calmly while pouring him a cup of water. "My undead handled everything. You slept for almost three hours."
Mike took the cup, still staring at the battlefield. "That's… a lot of work done."
She shrugged. "They kept coming. I just let them."
He took a sip, then laughed quietly. "Your undead army is terrifying."
Lily smiled softly, the earlier dangerous glint gone. "Thank you."
