Half the fortress occupants were already awake ready to face another day against the raging undead.
In the complex grounds the Pharoh's Guard stood in rigid formation, their bronzed muscles tensed beneath linen and golden bronze armor, their khopesh blades gleaming under the flickering torchlight from those brandishing torches to ward off the darkness.
The remaining cavemen warriors still as similarly as they could but separate from the new units, fewer in number now but no less fierce, gripping onto their bone and stone weapons, their primitive grunts and simple speech patterns forming a haunting rhythm as they pounded their fists against their chests, and overture to the massacre about to occur.
Above the assembled army, atop a series of simple stone block watch towers stood Egyptian archers, and spear throwers, their bows taught and arms primed ready to unleash further death upon those living in unlife outside their gates.
The army had one job, and one job only.
Draw the undead, and they were ready for it.
Even if it was going to cost them their lives as human sacrifices, they were willing to give up everything for their Chief, for their Pharoh.
~
As he stood across the ground on the opposite end from the initial army of cavemen with Egyptians, and after waving a torch left to right a few times, the roars of the cavemen who began jumping off the ramp and onto the streets outside, the responding snarls and growls from the undead chilled one to the bone, but the sounds outside their position disappeared.
The plan was working, only able to see a little from this far away in the darkness, but the movement in the torchlight showed the cavemen and volunteer egyptian warriors were engaged in combat against the undead on the streets, fighting as loudly as they could to draw in all the undead in the area, then after a moment of silence.
"LOOSE!"
And then in an instant, hundreds of shadows flew through the air as the released arrows sliced through the night air and finding their new homes embedded deeply into the flesh of their new undead hosts.
Heads rocked back and burst like ripe fruit, bodies toppled over one after another, the stench of rotting flesh mixing with the burning oils from their torches.
The Walkers continued to scream out, stepping over the bodies of their own fallen without care, recklessly charging towards the delicious living flesh glistening with sweat right before their undead eyes.
Hundreds of them moved in unison, drawn by the noise, by the light, and by the fresh blood being spilt as the brave warriors fell to their relentless attacks, clawing, snarling, wailing, and biting with all their worth.
They didn't even care about the other side of the complex now.
It was like Carter and his men, now standing atop their cariots able to peer just above the defensive wall were invisible.
And thanks to that, the second ramp built started to see use.
"Charge!"
This was stated but not with words, with a drop of his arm Carter signalled to his mobile force to begin moving out and as the reigns were cracked the hundred horses all set of moving, and upon reaching a simple gallop began to jump one after another, as they cleared the ramp, and in doing so jumped over the wall.
Carter's Elite Pharoh's guard of 100, plus himself rolled forward, launching through the air, before crashing to the street located outside.
Not cars, not trucks, but chariots.
Even if he could use a car from the underground parking lot, his forces could not, meaning at best he could bring along six or so men crammed into a car, or truck and then relying on summoning more on the go but that posed the risk of his powers becoming known.
These chariots were constructs of the engineers of the Old Kingdom, being pulled by warhorses conjured from the system, even if the chariots themselves were destroyed they could still mount each horse and continue on riding, though their ability to fight would diminish since saddles and stirrups weren't yet accessible.
But the ancient vessels gleamed like golden ghosts of the ancient empire long past.
Carter stood among the head of the mobile force, but as a passenger not a drives since he'd never driven a chariot before.
His driver, a man whom he'd casually decided to call Atem after an Egyptian character from an anime.
His hands gripping the reins of his two-horse chariot, the wind rushing past their faces.
Carter's own black tactical gear a stark contrast to the ancient warriors riding around him, flanking his own chariot.
To his left, Seto, his newest second-in-command, rode at his own chariots helm, his khopesh resting at his hip, while his piercing gaze fixed on the road ahead.
To his right, there was another row of Pharoh's guards riding in a crane wing formation placing me in the center but effectively in the furthest back position as well.
The drivers focused on their jobs while next to them stood warriors with shields and a row of javellins, or quivers of arrows for their bow along with a spear ready to run through any undead they came across along the way.
Fifty chariots rode like the wind, riding hard and fast away from their base, and right into the gaping maw that was once the busy core of the cities downtown.
The force rode as quietly as they could only the clip clop of the horses hooves on the asphalt, and the grinding whir of the wooden wheels as they raced along.
They were in enemy territory now, but that didn't change anything.
Their journey at first was pretty clear seeing as most of the undead must have either moved on or grouped up in the horde that was focused on their own building and subsequent battle raging outside.
Every so often they came across a lingering undead.
But the undead noticed to late.
The first wave of horses, trampled through them, crushing their skills under their hooves, and sending the bodies flying like ragdolls.
The Warriors, threw spears and shot arrows mid-gallop, their weapons impaling Walkers standing away from their path before they could even attempt to give chase.
Carter meanwhile was able to rather peacefully enjoy his first ever chariot ride, and watching as the city he once knew like the back of his hand now looked like a foreign battleground one he could barely recognize from the way it looks just a day ago.
His own weapon was the tactical knife granted to him by the system, but attached to the end of a system summoned spear giving him the only steel tipped spear in the entire force.
One by one the undead fell beneath their ancient might, under the chariots wheels and spinning sycthes, under the flashing arrows and spears of the ranged fighters, and under the crushing brutality of the warhorses themselves.
Within minutes they had ridden through the exterior and began to enter the downtown core itself.
Gazing up at the towering structures bearing signs of damage and various explosions caused by the living in their struggle to survive against the undead.
The deeper they rode, the more eerily quiet it became.
The once-bustling streets of downtown were now a corpse-filled graveyard.
Hundreds—no... thousands—of bodies lay rotting in the streets, stripped of flesh, their bones picked clean by the undead.
Storefronts were looted and broken, their glass shattered, their contents stolen or destroyed.
Vehicles sat abandoned, some still idling, their engines long since emptied of fuel, their horns blaring endlessly into the void, as their drivers remained slumped over pressing into the wheel a song a death if you will until the vehicles batteries finally joined their owners in death.
Here, there were fewer Walkers.
Because they had already moved on.
Already hunted everything that could be eaten.
A sudden shriek split the otherwise silence created as his men would stop to cease any ongoing noises.
Carter jerked as the reins were pulled taught, bringing his horses to a halt for the first time since they had set off.
The entire convoy slowed, warriors raising their weapons, their eyes scanning the shadows.
Then—
The rooftops stirred.
And from the darkness, something dropped down.
Not a Walker.
Something bigger.
Something faster.
Something worse.
The creatures were thin almost gangrel, their skin stretched tight over emaciated bodies, their fingers elongated into claws, their jaws unhinged, filled with rows of sharpened, shark-like teeth.
And they moved differently.
They didn't shamble.
They crawled.
They climbed.
They were like spiders—scaling walls, perching on ledges, their hollow black eyes locked onto the living below.
Then—
One leapt.
It crashed onto a chariot, its claws slashing at the soldier driving it.
Another dropped from above, landing on a Pharaoh's Guard, and biting into his neck before he could react.
A third landed directly in Carter's path, its limbs bending at unnatural angles, its thin lips stretching into a grotesque grin.
Carter barely had time to react before it lunged—
Only for Atem to intercept it mid-air, his khopesh flashing like lightning as he severed its head in a single fluid motion.
The creature's corpse twitched, black ichor spilling onto the pavement, as it's own head continued on rolling past further away from it's own torso.
Carter exhaled.
But there was no time to rest.
The rooftops stirred again.
More were coming.
Taking the chance he pulled up the system, to check the Zombie index as he'd started to call it.
[Tier 2 Zombie: Stalker]
This zombie type is an evolution of the common Walker, their physique is enhanced beyond the common zombie with Hypersmia, and enhanced optical senses allowing for a wider range of sight and smell to locate the living even when hidden.
Thanks to this the 'Stalker' is a far more effective hunter of humanity, though is traditionally weaker overall than their Walker counterparts.