Necromancer, summoning 055? What the heck?

Chapter 449 The Undead Catastrophe: A Shuffle on Blue Star (7K votes requested)
The large-scale reconstruction of the ghost temple caught all the countries that were watching the spectacle off guard.

Prior to this, the Sea Serpent Undead primarily operated on land, and even the few aerial units used for reconnaissance did not possess the ability to conduct long-distance operations across straits.

The change happened in an instant.

The world of Blue Star has ushered in a new round of comprehensive baptism by the ghosts of the Ghost Temple.

This disaster, which was indulged by the nations of Earth and nurtured by the Sea Serpent Guardian Government, finally broke free from its final geographical constraints after undergoing a tremendous transformation of the Ghost Temple Ruins.

Like a boil that has been suppressed for a long time, it bursts open under violent pressure, splashing filth all over the blue planet.

The first to suffer were naturally those neighboring countries that faced the sea serpent across the sea.

This is especially true for several small neighboring countries with weak administrative capabilities but highly concentrated populations in coastal metropolitan areas. Their defense systems are already somewhat inadequate in peacetime, barely maintaining a structure that combines clan and gang management. Once faced with this undead calamity that is completely beyond conventional understanding, they are instantly wiped out.

Sunset Boulevard, Song Dynasty Island.

At 4:30 a.m., the sky was still a deep, inky blue, with only the eastern horizon just beginning to lighten with the first hint of dawn. As usual, Santos, the old fisherman from Jasmine Eagle, steered his small, paint-worn fishing boat, preparing to cast his first net before sunrise.

He stood barefoot at the bow, his large feet, worn flat from years of walking on the deck, and habitually sniffed the air. In addition to the familiar salty smell, the sea breeze seemed to carry an indescribable stale odor.

"Is there any big fish that's rotten?"

The old man muttered something, rubbed his red, bulbous nose hard, and looked left and right. Apart from a wisp of dark cloud on the horizon, everything seemed no different from usual.

The old fisherman kept his head down and sailed the boat for a little while longer. When he looked up again, he finally realized something was wrong.

That "dark cloud" is spreading at an incredible speed.

Santos's eyes widened.

That's not a cloud!

Countless flying undead of various shapes and sizes swarmed over, the bone birds at the front colliding with each other, producing a chilling "click" sound. Even from a distance, the sound was clearly audible due to its immense size.

Behind them, the "Rotten Wings" trailed behind, their half-rotten membrane wings leaving streaks of gray-black mist in the air;

Further away, the slowest-flying, massive undead behemoths, like moving aerial graveyards, carrying all sorts of undead creatures, were heading towards this filthy land.

"Holy Mother, what is this?"

Clearly, although the Jasmine Eagle Lion government was aware of the situation, its high-ranking officials, composed of corrupt officials, sex addicts, and executioners, decisively chose to conceal the information, seize the time to amass wealth, and flee abroad in a frenzy.

These ignorant masses must not become an obstacle until they, their relatives, their confidants, their friends, and their subordinates have all landed safely.

Let them know that they don't even know if the plane can take off, and even if it can, the airfare and ferry tickets will be much more expensive, right?

Those guys are evacuating, and old Santos clearly has no chance of escaping.

The old fisherman's net slipped limply from his hands. He knelt on the wet deck, muttering prayers, but God seemed unwilling to concern himself with the affairs of the dead.

Several bone birds, like ospreys swooping down, plummeted straight down from a height of 100 meters.

They pierced the old fisherman's neck bone with their sharp beaks, then their bony claws seized old Santos's head and lifted it sharply upwards—

"Crack!"

The broken cervical vertebrae snapped cleanly, the old fisherman's body was torn in two, the headless torso remained kneeling for a moment before collapsing forward.

Blood splattered down like a burst water bag, spreading a large, dark red stain on the ship's gunwale, deck, and the pile of scattered fishing nets.

A dozen minutes later, old Santos's head, with its eyes wide open and frozen in a final prayer and a look of terror, was carried back to the city center of Sunset Boulevard by the bone bird.

This is the first time an old fisherman, who has spent his entire life struggling to survive at sea level, has seen this beautiful city from the air.

As if to give him a better view, the bone bird released its grip, and old Santos's skull traced an arc in the air before crashing with a dull thud onto the edge of the fountain in the center of the square, startling a flock of wandering pigeons.

The dogs in the market started barking wildly, perhaps because they smelled bones.

Then came flocks of birds, thousands upon thousands of sparrows, pigeons, crows, and doves, taking flight in droves from the woods and buildings, sweeping across the sky in a dark mass, and fleeing frantically in the southwest.

The commotion finally alerted the crowd on the ground, but at that moment, the fastest-flying group of bone birds had already begun their swooping down.

Piercing screams rose and fell, and the crowd scattered in panic.

But it was too late.

More and more undead creatures are attacking the unsuspecting city from all angles, completely paralyzing traffic. Vehicles are crashing into each other on the streets, and drivers, in a panic, are slamming on the gas pedal, crashing one after another into this chaotic pile of steel junk.

Everywhere was filled with the sounds of horns, crashes, screams, cries, and... the crisp sound of undead bones colliding with biological bones.

After the Bone Bird, the Corrupted Wing arrived.

The guy crashed headfirst into a high-rise office building on the side of the street, shattering large sections of the glass curtain wall. Countless sparkling fragments cascaded down from the sky like a waterfall, refracting brilliant light in the rising sun.

Behind the broken window, there were traces of terrified living people.

This scene seemed to trigger something, and more and more undead creatures began to crash into the building.

Some officers attempted to maintain order, but their pistol bullets, when hitting the bone birds, could only cause a few minor fractures at most. The rotten wings and larger undead completely ignored the attacks from small-caliber weapons.

The most ferocious attack on these undead came from a hot pot restaurant employee. This chubby woman screamed as she poured a pot of boiling oil at a rotten wing that had poked its head in.

The tattered skin melted instantly, and the zombie was burned to the bone. According to the undead's rank, this was practically a rank reduction for no reason. The attack effect was truly off the charts.

Enraged, the rotten wing that had transformed into a skeleton lunged forward, its bony claws grabbing the still-screaming shop assistant. It pierced through him, squeezed in, and, as if putting on a coat, slipped the still-soft, twitching skin onto its bare skeleton.

In just over ten minutes, the entire city descended into complete chaos.

The densely populated areas fell first, followed by the surrounding towns and villages, and oh yes, the medium-range missile base set up by the bald eagles stationed there.

That was once the Jasmine Eagle Lion's reliance as it howled wildly toward the northwest.

Now, it has become a playground for the undead babies.

The ghosts of the temple make no attempt to conceal their intention and determination to destroy everything. During the day, they hunt on a large scale, dragging the high-quality corpses back to the makeshift "corruption pools," while the broken remains are left to be abandoned at will, awaiting the natural invasion of negative energy.

At night, newly born skeletons and fresh zombies stagger to their feet and join the undead army.

Although the black mist from the Ghost Temple did not spread directly across the sea, the seeds of negative energy pollution were successfully sown by the first batch of liches who arrived in the "flying coffins of the dead".

If the bodies are not burned or completely dismantled in time, the number of the dead will snowball out of control.

In a country with such administrative chaos and near-paralysis of grassroots organizations, let alone systematically disposing of corpses, they couldn't even organize a fully-fledged undead extermination squad.

They used to be good at being unreasonable to people who tried to reason with them, but the dead don't fall for that.

The avalanche of a nation rolls down unstoppable.

In densely populated areas like Jasmine Eagle Lion, although the resistance is slightly stronger, the infection rate is fast enough to exceed the human cleanup speed, making it a losing proposition.

In some sparsely populated areas, although there are fewer people to be infected, the ability to organize resistance is even smaller.

Absolutely insolvent!
For example, the cold, frozen soil region of the Northern Double-Headed Eagle.

The city was sparsely populated and deserted. Many former towns had long since become ghost towns. Several constituent republics existed in name only, and the limited defense forces were scattered across thousands of kilometers of vast land, which was simply insufficient to stop the invasion of undead creatures.

In just a few weeks, this place has become an ideal hunting ground for the ghosts of the Ghost Temple.

Another example is the kangaroo kingdom in the south.

Apart from some coastal cities and important mining areas, the entire landmass is a vast uninhabited area. Undead creatures can calmly start by killing wild animals, slowly accumulating numbers while intermittently harassing urban areas.

The constant "bone knocking on the door" has plunged this nation of exiled convicts' descendants into endless panic.

In the bloody and brutal tug-of-war between humans and the undead, some "experiences" gained at the cost of lives have been summarized.

This is a head-on, head-on battle, a contest of numbers, endurance, and courage. The technological gap that human nations have in the past, with their high-tech weapons, will be difficult to exploit in this cataclysmic disaster.

Even the most advanced fighter jets are practically worthless against swarms of undead. How many missiles can you possibly carry? In terms of sheer killing efficiency against undead creatures, they're not even as effective as armed helicopters carrying Vulcan missiles.

However, a single attack by a bone bird could destroy a super-powerful fighter jet worth hundreds of millions of dollars.

Missiles or rockets are also clearly lacking in power. Undead creatures are much more durable than humans in most situations, ignoring logistics, showing no fear, and being indifferent to injuries, with shrapnel easily grazing them...

Even a barrage of fire wouldn't be enough to determine how many old ghosts and new undead remain in the ruins.

As for biological weapons like poison gas bombs and bacterial bombs, let's not joke about them. They are just tools that humans have carefully created for self-destruction, and the undead don't care.

The harsh reality seemed to pull the form of warfare back to an old era overnight.

The most effective weapons became automatic weapons with high rate of fire, sustained firepower, and the ability to fire directly at close to medium range, such as heavy machine guns, general-purpose machine guns, shotguns, or flamethrowers.

In other words, the most effective defense is a sufficient number of soldiers who are courageous, willing to face the undead, and unafraid of close combat.

This has become a weakness for the vast majority of countries.

But it doesn't matter. For Earth, 90% of the countries don't have as much presence as the remaining few.

Therefore, most of the attention was focused on the other side of the ocean, on the homeland of the bald eagle.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

After a long journey, a group of undead flying creatures crossed the vast, tranquil sea and arrived at the other side of the ocean.

However, this army of undead seemed to be in poor condition when it arrived.

They were badly beaten along the way.

It must be acknowledged that, despite its recent decline, the bald eagle remains one of the world's top military forces. It still possesses one of the best early warning and reconnaissance systems on Earth and has extremely strong proactive attack capabilities. In dealing with such maritime incursions aimed at its homeland, it has demonstrated a remarkably high level of combat effectiveness.

With the support of high-altitude military radar and early warning aircraft, the bald eagle began its beyond-visual-range interception operation from the middle of the ocean.

Although using missiles to attack undead is a huge loss, the White Eagle's military-industrial complex is least afraid of losses.

The more losses they incurred, the more enthusiastic and passionate they became in deploying troops. "National security is priceless!"

The contractors gave passionate speeches at the hearings, and the congressmen reached a rare consensus. The emergency funding bill for the Bald Eagle was passed at a record speed, and its name, as always, was full of eagle flavor—the Special Authorization Act to Defend the Homeland from Supernatural Invasion.

Facing the media cameras, the spokespersons of the military industry group held up the emergency authorization document, their faces solemn: "The great white eagle is facing an unprecedented threat, and we must spare no effort to protect every eagle citizen."

Of course, at the same time, they were watching the stock market's ever-rising curve.

Another day of huge wins!
Having received near-unlimited authorization, the Bald Eagle's war machine roared into action, launching a one-way hunt against the undead forces with high-tech weaponry.

The interceptor formation composed of Raptors and Lightning used missiles to target and eliminate all large units such as "Flying Coffins" and "Undead Fortresses" in the Undead horde.

Clusters of dazzling fireballs exploded, and burning fragments of bone and rotting flesh rained down onto the sea.

The three-dimensional air defense system caused extensive damage to the medium-sized corrosive wing.

When the undead forces finally arrived at the near-shore air defense perimeter, they were intercepted in the final round by the air defense firepower that had been set up there in advance.

With each volley, a large number of undead troops fell from the sky, and the numbers on the battle report kept increasing. The White Eagle Commander even expressed some regret in his speech.

He was beaming, his hands resting on the podium, and gave his signature shrug to the cameras broadcasting nationwide.

"As you can see, in front of our brave army, they're like stupid turkeys, just flying over to their deaths. We don't even need to aim!"

"Those rotten creatures that drifted in from that Eastern country across the ocean have met their match—a real, great iron fist!"

"I think I have proven everything to you. I am not only good at peace, but I am also good at fighting!"

"Alright, I hereby announce that we will continue to strengthen coastal defenses and accelerate the deployment of the next-generation air defense system. We are also ready to provide more protection for Earth!"

"Of course, they have to pay!"

Just as the Grand Commander was giving his triumphant speech, showcasing his impressive victories, a wet, undead bone claw silently landed on the rocks on the shore.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Undead creatures are not afraid of water; however, they are very poor at moving around in water.

Undead creatures that haven't undergone targeted underwater training like "Afu" are mostly just drifting with the current, even if they're of a high rank.

However, at a location already close to the coast, a temporary underwater transition is not too difficult for the undead.

At worst, it can just sink to the bottom and crawl across the seabed near the shore.

The sheer number of undead came into play at this moment. Under the command of a cunning "Colonel"-class evil spirit, perhaps a former Marine who had been transformed, a portion of the undead creatures deliberately broke away from the group during the final flight phase and crashed into the sea.

After a period of underwater diving, far from the heavily fortified beachhead, they emerged from the water at midnight on a secluded coastline and quietly stepped onto land.

Before them lies a fresh, vibrant, psychedelic, and hormone-filled city.

We don't need to know its name, because it will soon have a new one.

Some time ago, due to some "minor chaos" caused by undead creatures that arrived by boat, the city had just lifted its curfew, and it was a time for people to revel.

Neon lights painted the streets with psychedelic colors, deafening electronic music poured out of bars and clubs, and men and women, dressed in as little clothing as possible and covered in shiny metal rings or tattoos, writhed and twisted their bodies in the streets and on dance floors, emitting hysterical screams like wild beasts in heat.

Every now and then, a high-level six- or seven-star speeder would roar past in the traffic, followed by a barrage of police lights. Occasionally, a helicopter beam of light would shine down from the sky, adding a touch of vibrant energy to the city.

This is the world of the living, filled with restless life energy.

It is also the hunting ground of the dead, filled with unguarded, vibrant flesh.

It must be acknowledged that after humans withdrew from the primitive state of hunting, the vast majority of them have become accustomed to and enthusiastic about using status, wealth, knowledge, power, and even lies and conspiracies to suppress and exploit their fellow human beings, rather than relying on force.

But the undead don't fall for that.

They believe in force and enjoy simple, direct killing.

A decaying wing swept low into the city, landing in the shadows of the third block. One of its legs appeared to be broken, twisted at an odd angle, but this was not a big problem for the undead creature.

It needs to absorb some negative energy from when a life is on the verge of death to replenish itself.

Fortunately, there are plenty of such people in every corner of the city. There have been no foreign dignitaries visiting recently, and homeless people are wandering around the city.

About twenty minutes later, when the police arrived at the scene after receiving the report, they found more than a dozen mutilated bodies.

The rotten wing that had finished its "dinner" had already "stretched" itself into a bloated shape.

It haphazardly draped unabsorbed human tissues over its body, with several long, intestine-like structures even trailing behind it. As it walked, it swayed and staggered, its tattered wing membranes making it resemble a noblewoman in a fur coat with a tail, "staggering" but determined as it pounced toward the next block.

It took the police about thirty minutes to urgently bring in heavy weapons, disembowel the man, and turn him into a pile of minced meat. They then notified the "corpse collectors" to come and dispose of the body.

However, the number of alarms that went off at the same time has exceeded thirty.

The city fell easily; after all, the Bald Eagles were full of agile creatures skilled in folding fintanny mechanics, practically undead reserves who could seamlessly switch roles at any time.

The city is a giant quagmire, where the undead, adept at hiding, thrive. They can launch attacks anytime, anywhere—from sewers, under cars, from building corners, from attics or basements of homes—and once surrounded, they quickly retreat into the shadows, awaiting the arrival of the next night.

Just the next day, faced with an unmanageable situation, the remaining police force and National Guard were forced to evacuate the city in disarray.

They locked down the city's main roads and submitted an urgent report to the president.

As expected, at the meeting, the representatives of the think tank put forward suggestions that aligned with Bai Diao's values.

"...Given the current situation, conventional clearing methods are no longer sufficient to control the disaster within an acceptable timeframe. It is recommended to activate the 'purification protocol' to treat infected areas indiscriminately."

One of the Five Loaves Generals of the Empire slammed his fist on the table. “Are you crazy? There are many civilians in there.”

"We can't tell the difference!"

"Your Excellency General, in such a terrible environment, we simply cannot distinguish who are the survivors, who are those damned undead, or who are in the process of being transformed, the intermediate state between humans and the undead."

"Sending these young men into the city is tantamount to sending them to their deaths!"

"..."

Another white-eagle official shakily raised his hand: "Perhaps we can avoid entering the city, but give the people in the city a chance to escape. At checkpoints in open areas, humans and the undead are easy to distinguish..."

"No! That's too slow!"

The representative of the think tank slammed his fist on the table.

"Gentlemen, if this is not dealt with promptly, the entire city will become a playground for evil spirits!"

"Please be clear-headed, everyone. There are hardly any civilians left in the city; they are all suspected cases of infection!"

"We cannot allow them to actually get infected; that would cause a major disaster that we cannot handle!"

"Capital will flee, the stock market will crash, and the empire's economy may collapse!"

"Therefore, we must win as soon as possible!"

Okay, this is the real reason.

The empire's economy is starting to crumble.

For a long time, it was no exaggeration to say that the empire's tycoons were richer than the country itself. The speed at which the Grand President's wealth grew broke all records in human history, and he was revered as the "God of the Economic World" and the "God of the Stock Market"!
According to some people's exaggerated calculations, even a printing press running at full capacity couldn't keep up with the president's wealth growth curve.

Of course, all of this comes at a price.

Behind the rapid increase in the wealth of a minority group lies the empire's equally rapid expansion of its fiscal deficit and astronomical debt interest.

The empire's finances had long been strained, and despite constant patching up efforts, it was still on the verge of collapse.

In this situation, the empire desperately stirred up conflicts and created turmoil throughout the planet, forcing wealth to flow back in various ways, and doing everything it could to prolong its existence.

Until recently, the Bald Eagle Empire encountered a golden opportunity.

Thank you, souls of the dead!

The outbreak of the undead scourge in the Four-Clawed Sea Serpent has become a major boon for the Bald Eagle Empire.

The Four-Clawed Sea Serpent government was one of the biggest creditors of the Bald Eagle. Due to the rampage of undead in the Sea Serpent's homeland, a large number of Four-Clawed Sea Serpent leaders and powerful clans fled to the Bald Eagle's land.

The creditor has fallen into the debtor's hands!
They brought not only IOUs, but also their own vast assets.

This instantly gave the bald eagle the means to survive for another decade or so.

It was only then that everyone realized why the bald eagle neither rescued the sea snake itself nor allowed others to do so.

You think he's stupid and unprepared, but he laughs at your naivety and lack of economic understanding.

Now, even the bald eagle's homeland is facing the threat of the undead.

If the situation is left unchecked, where will the wealth go? Will the empire's economy, which has been so painstakingly salvaged, collapse again?

"Absolutely, absolutely, absolutely this situation cannot be allowed to happen!"

"Therefore, the undead must be eliminated as soon as possible!"

"Those things that might be infected by the undead must also be eliminated as soon as possible to cut off the undead's ability to spread!"

After a long silence, the president issued an executive order.

Everything that moves in the city—the undead, infected humans, uninfected humans, animals, and even insects—is marked as the "enemy."

To commemorate this "difficult but necessary" clearing operation, a great codename was established, which later became the new name of the city: —

Stratholme!

(End of this chapter)