Story 647: Phantom's Arrow

The cold wind howled through the ruined fortress, carrying the stench of decay. Storm clouds loomed overhead, casting eerie shadows over the battlefield. General Viktor "Bloodfang" Kruger stood atop the crumbling ramparts, his crimson beret barely shifting in the breeze. In his grip, a sleek black compound bow, a relic from his past as a precision hunter.

The war of the undead had entered a new phase—long-range warfare.

Through the cracked stone battlements, Kruger spotted movement in the distance. Wolfe’s Flesh Revenants were advancing, their rotten bodies clad in scavenged armor, their dead eyes glowing with an unnatural light. Unlike standard undead, these abominations still retained their tactical instincts, moving in disciplined formations, adjusting their approach to minimize losses.

Kruger smirked. "Clever. But not clever enough."