If we don't screw this up

The streets of Pillaris were an inferno of chaos, each corner a new battlefront. The defenders fought desperately, their weapons flashing in the firelight, their spirits glowing as they battled side by side with their human companions.

The sounds of war filled the city: the clash of metal on bone, the guttural roars of abominations, and the cries of the wounded. Fires burned unchecked in some districts, their smoke mingling with the necrotic haze emanating from the undead horde. Yet, even as the city crumbled, the defenders' resolve burned brighter.

The Dog Clan warriors held a chokepoint near a narrow bridge leading to the central plaza. Torran stood at the forefront, his shield raised as skeletal archers loosed volleys of arrows from the rooftops. His bear spirit roared, leaping onto the bridge and crushing an abomination under its massive paws.

"Push forward!" Torran shouted, his sword cleaving through a skeletal knight that had managed to climb onto the bridge. Behind him, his warriors rallied, their shields forming an unyielding wall as they advanced inch by inch.

At another barricade, Rice ducked as a bone dragon swooped low, its fiery breath scorching the ground just feet away. "Could we not with the fire-breathing lizards?!" he shouted, his twin blades slicing through an undead soldier that lunged at him.

"Keep moving!" he yelled to a group of Pillaris warriors as they rushed to reinforce another barricade. He barely dodged another attack as a specter phased through the wall beside him. A swift throw of his dagger sent the ghostly figure shrieking into oblivion.

In a narrow alley, Lyssara of the Snake Clan fought like a shadow, her movements fluid and deadly. Her serpent spirit darted through the chaos, wrapping itself around a hulking abomination and crushing its malformed limbs with sickening cracks. Lyssara's daggers flashed as she moved between enemies, her voice calm and commanding.

"Hold the alley!" she ordered her warriors, who set tripwire traps and poison-coated caltrops to slow the advancing horde. A skeletal knight triggered a trap, its bones splintering as a spiked net engulfed it.

Nearby, Zael of the Thunder Striders led her riders through the western district. Her horse spirit galloped beside her, its golden mane blazing as it struck down clusters of undead with its powerful hooves. Zael's spear skewered an undead knight before she pulled back, shouting to her riders.

"Fall back to the plaza!" she called, her voice carrying above the chaos. "We regroup there!"

The guardians of Pillaris continued to fight, their immense power keeping the horde at bay in key areas.

The deer spirit stood near the central plaza, its glowing antlers releasing bursts of golden energy that burned through the undead. Vines erupted from the ground, entangling abominations and dragging them down, but even its immense strength began to falter as wave after wave of enemies surged forward.

The turtle spirit, its massive shell glowing with veins of molten gold, planted itself near the western gate. Its colossal limbs crushed undead siege engines and abominations alike, but cracks began to form in its shell as it took the brunt of the horde's attacks.

The lake spirit darted through the streets, its shimmering body creating barriers of water that held back the undead. But the barriers began to crack under the relentless assault, and the spirit's glowing eyes dimmed as its energy waned.

Everywhere, the defenders were being pushed to their limits. Warriors fell, their bodies trampled by the horde or burned by the necrotic flames of the bone dragons. In one house, a Pillaris family fought desperately to hold their home, only to be overrun by specters that phased through the walls.

Ryden, standing on a rooftop, watched in horror as the undead breached another barricade. He flipped open the glowing booklet, his hands shaking as he read the numbers:

72384/100000 Monsters Defeated.

"Damn it," he muttered, his voice raw. "We're not going to make it."

Arika, fighting near the plaza, glanced over her shoulder as she heard the turtle spirit's roar falter. Her phoenix spirit soared overhead, releasing bursts of fire to hold back the advancing horde. "We can't let them reach the plaza!" she shouted, rallying the nearby warriors.

The undead began to encircle the plaza, their sheer numbers overwhelming every line of defense. The streets leading to the central square were choked with the dead, their skeletal forms climbing over the rubble and each other.

In the plaza itself, Darius swung his hammer with brutal precision, crushing a skeletal knight before turning to a group of defenders. "Form up! We'll hold here as long as we can!"

But even he could see the writing on the wall. The defenders were outnumbered, their forces stretched too thin. The guardians, though still fighting, were faltering under the relentless assault.

In the chaos, Rice stumbled to Ryden's side, his face pale and streaked with dirt. "This is it, isn't it?" he said, his voice barely audible. "We're not going to make it."

Ryden didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the endless tide of death surging toward them. The numbers in the booklet flashed again, creeping upward but still far from what they needed.

84321/100000 Monsters Defeated.

Arika's voice cut through the noise, her tone resolute despite the despair in her eyes. "We fight to the last," she said, gripping her spear tightly. "For every home, every stone, every life."

The defenders roared in response, but the sound was tinged with desperation. Pillaris burned, its streets overrun, and its people clung to the fragile hope that somehow, they could survive the night.

The battle raged on, the city of Pillaris becoming an epicenter of resilience and chaos as the defenders faced wave after wave of undead horror. The clans and warriors of Pillaris, though pushed to the brink, fought with unyielding resolve, their spirits flickering like flames against the encroaching darkness. Each tribe brought their unique strengths to the fray, their determination a patchwork of hope stitched together against the tide of despair.

The warriors of the Pig Clan were renowned for their fortitude. Their fighters formed unbreakable shield walls near the central square, bracing against the brunt of the undead's onslaught. Their boar spirits charged through the ranks of the undead with unmatched fury, tusks impaling skeletal knights and scattering abominations like leaves in the wind. Warriors linked arms, chanting ancient battle songs, their resilience inspiring those around them. Even as the undead pushed closer, the Pig Clan held the line, their sweat and blood mingling with the ash-filled air.

Torran and his Dog Clan warriors were the heartbeat of the defense. Their bear spirits roared alongside them as they tirelessly held critical chokepoints, such as the narrow alleys and bridges. Torran's booming orders rallied nearby defenders, his presence like a beacon in the chaos. The warriors fought with a loyalty as fierce as their strikes, their shields interlocked in an unyielding phalanx. The Dog Clan's fighters paired their raw strength with strategic precision, striking where the horde was weakest and buying precious time for the others.

The remnants of the Blood Talon tribe, now renamed the Rooster Clan, fought with a ferocity born of redemption. They battled not just for survival but to atone for their past. Their warriors wielded spears and blades with deadly accuracy, their raptor-like spirits diving into the fray to rend undead flesh. The Rooster Clan's chief, a grizzled warrior named Rennick, barked commands, his sharp eyes missing nothing. Their efforts were concentrated on flanking maneuvers, striking from unexpected angles to disrupt the horde's relentless advance.

The agile warriors of the Monkey Clan climbed the rubble and ruins of the city with astonishing speed, launching devastating ambushes on the undead. Their monkey spirits swung from damaged rooftops, hurling debris and striking with fierce, precise blows. The clan's warriors wielded slings and bows, peppering the advancing horde with projectiles that seemed to come from nowhere. Their unpredictability and mobility created much-needed chaos in the undead ranks, giving the defenders brief moments to regroup.