"Attention!"
Lysandra's voice cracked across the compound as she paced in front of a crooked line of zombies, her hands clasped behind her back. Her dark red hair, streaked with bright orange, swayed behind her, standing out sharply against the charcoal-black uniform wrapped around her frame. The long officer's coat reached down to her calves, double-breasted and severe, with a rigid collar, broad shoulders, and a straight fall that made her look taller and imposing. Black trousers disappeared into a pair of sturdy tall boots, each step striking the ground with exaggerated authority.
"Every single one of you has humiliated me! Not one of you passed!" she declared, turning sharply toward one of the zombies in the line.
The unlucky target stiffened at once, its hand snapping up to its forehead in a sloppy salute. Its clothes were torn to rags, its skin a dull, lifeless grey.
Lysandra stopped directly in front of it and narrowed her eyes. "You!" she barked. "Is there something on my face, meathead!?"
The zombie shook violently. "Raur no Rarm!" it growled at the top of its lungs.
"You were the slowest to reach the peak," Lysandra said, jabbing a finger into its chest, "and quite frankly, you are a disgrace to this Empire!"
She swung one arm dramatically. "On the ground, private! Give me five thousand!"
Without hesitation, two nearby zombies hurried over carrying a massive boulder. They dropped it onto Meathead's back, and the zombie immediately began doing push-ups, groaning all the while.
Lysandra turned away with a sharp spin, her black cloak snapping through the air behind her in theatrical fashion. After bingeing far too many dramas, she had decided that being a drill sergeant was the highest form of authority. Ever since, she had been roaming the forest in search of victims. Eira was unable to endure the endless nagging and eventually caved, making her a proper outfit for the role.
Lysandra turns on her heel, her cloak snapping behind her as she continues down the crooked line of undead. "Pathetic," she mutters, shaking her head. "Absolutely pathetic. If this is the standard of my army, then the Empire is doomed."
The zombies remain stiff, their backs straighter than usual under her relentless glare. Some are human, some are not. Rotting flesh, exposed bone, torn armor, and dead eyes fill the line in a miserable display of what she now calls "her soldiers."
Lysandra stops in front of a broad-shouldered zombie with broken tusks jutting from its lower jaw. She slowly looks it up and down, her expression growing more judgmental by the second. "What exactly are you supposed to be?"
The zombie immediately salutes. "Rarrgh!"
"That was not a request for conversation!" she snaps, jabbing a finger toward its chest. "Look at your stance. Look at your face. No discipline! No grace! No pride! Did you crawl out of your grave just to embarrass me!?"
The tusked zombie remains perfectly still, trying its hardest not to tremble.
She narrows her eyes. "At the very least, you smell slightly less offensive than the others. You may continue standing." Without waiting for a response, she marches onward.
A few more zombies down the line, she halts so abruptly her boots scrape against the dirt. And there it is, the spider.
Its lower half is still that of a giant undead spider, eight long legs stabbing into the earth with dry, clicking sounds, but now a humanoid female torso rises from its center. Cold grey skin stretches over a ribbed frame, dead hair hangs in loose clumps, and several cloudy eyes blink out of rhythm across its face.
Lysandra stares.
The spider zombie stares back.
Very slowly, it raises one hand in salute.
Lysandra's face twists with open disgust, "You."
The spider lets out a quiet chitter.
"No." Lysandra immediately raises a hand. "Do not make noise. Actually, do not move either."
The spider freezes at once.
Lysandra takes a slow step back, visibly disturbed. "What... what are you supposed to be?"
The spider tilts its head.
"No, do not tilt your head at me!" Lysandra points accusingly. "You were a giant spider before! That was already unacceptable! I wake up one day, come here as usual, and suddenly you have a torso? Why do you have a torso!? Who approved this?! I didn't! Do you see yourself above me, private!?"
The spider makes a softer clicking noise, almost hesitant.
Lysandra shudders. "Disgusting. Revolting. Unnatural. You somehow found a way to become worse." The nearby zombies do not move, but several of them glance toward the spider. One lowers its head slightly. Another shifts its stance, clearly uncomfortable. A third slowly reaches out and awkwardly pats one of the spider's legs before immediately straightening again when Lysandra's eyes flick toward it. Not one of them speaks up, but Lysandra notices their glances.
Her eyes narrow. "...Don't tell me you all pity it."
The line instantly stiffens, and the spider lowers its head a little.
Lysandra clicks her tongue and points off into the distance. "You, move."
The spider blinks.
"Further, private!"
It hesitates, then takes several skittering steps back.
"Further!"
The spider moves again, its long legs clattering against the ground.
Lysandra's expression does not soften. "Further!"
The spider stops near the edge of the formation.
She squints. "If I can still see your legs, you are too close."
The spider pauses, then retreats even farther, nearly reaching the outer edge of the clearing.
Only then does Lysandra fold her arms. "There. Stay there and don't you dare approach me. Don't breathe near me. Don't evolve again without permission!"
The spider lowers its upper body slightly, almost like a wilted bow. A few of the zombies glance at it again, and though none of them dares challenge Lysandra, the sympathy on their rotten faces is almost painful to watch.
Lysandra looks between them and scoffs. "Tch. Pathetic. All of you."
Behind her, a heavy crash echoes across the clearing. She turns just enough to see Meathead still doing push-ups beneath the giant boulder, though now its arms are shaking so badly that its face keeps slamming into the dirt. Lysandra nods once. "At least someone here still understands discipline."
She resumes pacing before the line, chin raised high.
"Listen well!" she declares, her voice booming across the compound. "You belong to Kael's territory now, which means your conduct reflects upon us! And if your conduct reflects upon us, then by extension, it reflects upon me! I will not tolerate incompetence, sloppiness, or random bodily evolutions without permission!"
A chorus of low groans rises from the line.
Lysandra places a fist against her chest and lifts her chin. "From this moment onward, you will carry yourselves with pride! With discipline! With dignity! Even you," she adds, glaring into the distance at the spider, "to the best of your very unfortunate ability."
The spider gives a tiny salute from far away.
Lysandra grimaces. "Ugh... still disgusting." She points further down the line, her expression turning severe once more. "You! Why is your salute uglier than your face!? Do—"
Before she can finish, a familiar scent reaches her.
Her head snaps around just as a rift tears open in the air. "Kael! You bastard, you took so long!" she shouts, instantly breaking formation as she sprints toward it. But the moment she sees the man stepping through, her eyes widen and her footing slips. She trips over herself, rolling across the grass before coming to a stop in a heap.
Lysandra jerks her head up, staring.
'No way... He smells like Kael. He has his clothes too, but no way.'
She pushes herself off the ground and glares, flames bursting from her palm as they rapidly condense into a large spear. "Who are you!?" she demands, baring her teeth. "How did you get in here!?"
Behind her, the zombies slowly look at one another in confusion, their crooked formation breaking slightly as they try to make sense of her sudden change.
"Why do you smell like him!?" Lysandra barks, gripping her spear tighter.
Kael steps forward with a long stretch, looking entirely too relaxed for someone being threatened. "Huh?" he smirks. "What are you doing out here, Lysandra? Miss me already?" His eyes drift past her spear, then toward the zombies standing in a rough line behind her. 'What is this? Her posture is way better... Did she teach herself?'
Ilka pops up onto his head, lazily sprawled across his hair. "Hmm~ Her posture is still bad, you know, but she does look more confident. That's a good sign. But considering she's a dragon, you still need to beat that overconfidence out of her." She swings her feet idly. "Oi, and hurry up. We need to train."
"I have a lot of catching up to do," Kael exhales. As he glances back, he catches Leena falling through the rift just before it snaps shut behind her. His eyes rest on her for a brief second. 'Looks like she made her choice, huh... Well, I'll deal with her in a bit.'
"STOP! I SAID STOP!" Lysandra shouts, slashing her spear through the air so violently that it leaves a blazing trail of fire behind it. "I don't know who you are, but you did a shitty job copying him! His face does not look like that! He is an ugly man!"
Kael smirks and rubs his jaw. "Oi, Lysandra." He raises his palm, and a dark red flame blooms above it, swirling into a dense sphere of fire. "Is this real enough for you?"
"Eh?" Her spear lowers slightly. She squints, then takes a cautious step forward. "No way..." Another step. "No way..." Her eyes narrow further. "Kael?"
She rushes him at once, grabbing his face with both hands and pulling at his cheeks with open suspicion. She twists his jaw one way, then the other, pokes his cheek, then presses a finger into his forehead, as though expecting the skin to peel off and reveal the truth underneath.
"What happened? Did Mother Earth fix you out of pity?" Lysandra tilts her head and pokes him one more time. "Hmm... I suppose it's about time. I was getting embarrassed walking around with you."
"Haha, very funny." Kael clicks his tongue and flicks her away from him. "I managed to cleanse my impurities, but forget that." His gaze drifts down her body, taking in the black officer's coat, the rigid collar, the tall boots, and the overly dramatic stance she is trying far too hard to maintain. "Pff. What are you wearing? Are you roleplaying some kind of warlord?"
As he glances past her, the system quickly flickers to life.
[Notice: Several zombies have leveled up, with one evolving.]
[Under Lysandra's leadership, 6 zombies have reached level 9.]
[Zombie 654,865 has reached level 10 and evolved from Basic ➙ Rare due to Lysandra's dragon property.]
[All zombies have had an increase in understanding, strength, speed, and durability.]
Kael exhales through his nose, barely holding back a laugh. 'I was hoping this would happen, but I didn't think her obsession with dramas would actually lead to results.' His eyes drift over the green grass, the distant house, and the surrounding stretch of controlled land. 'Hey, System, I'll check the rewards later.'
"Oi, oi!" Lysandra grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him back and forth, then points sharply toward Leena, who stands a short distance away, staring wide-eyed at everything around her. "Who's that? Another woman? Aren't you tired of girls by now?" She rolls her eyes, then huffs and throws a hand toward the zombie line. "And don't look down on my uniform! I was hard at work, you know! These bastards are all stupid!"
The zombies immediately stiffen again, though several of them glance at one another with obvious offense.