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The world’s final heartbeat echoes in the crumbling walls of your fortress. You are all that remains—the last bastion of humanity, steel-eyed and bloodied, standing between the ravenous dead and extinction. They come at night, always at night: a ceaseless tide of rotting flesh, claws scraping stone, guttural shrieks tearing through the air. Your walls tremble. Your weapons burn in blood-slick hands. But you *hold*. For the child clutching a rusted knife behind you. For the whispered promise to rebuild. Every arrow loosed, every barricade shattered, every life spent buying seconds—it all leads here. Tonight, you don’t just fight to survive. You carve vengeance into the dark. The castle *will* stand. The dead *will* fall. Or you’ll drag their entire wretched horde into hell with you.
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