Athena's General Reincarnated in Another World

Victoria Vargulfson:

A massive portal tore through the center of the city, right in the heart of the crowd and chaos. This wasn't supposed to happen yet. It was impossible. All the calculations, all the predictions said the portals wouldn't start appearing for months—maybe even a year—and never something this big. Not this colossal.

I remembered the conversation I had with that higher being—a woman named Eira Green. She'd told me something had come through the academy's portal. Something ancient and dangerous, but it wasn't one of those half-demons. It was our responsibility to handle it, because they couldn't intervene.

I spent days in that dungeon and found nothing. The only real threat was a giant orc. But what could have opened a portal? She said the portal was linked to a powerful creature anchoring it from this side. I thought we'd already killed that creature.

Did we deal with the wrong one?

People were screaming and running in every direction, panic consuming them. Though it was night, the city center was brightly lit—and from the massive opening, monsters began to emerge.

"Back!" I shouted, slamming my fists into the ground. The earth shook, cracks spread like spiderwebs, and the undead flooding the street dropped into the crevices. I clasped my hands together, conjuring a wave of mud that surged through the ravines, swallowing the creatures whole. The mud hardened, turning into a deadly trap that buried them beneath tons of earth.

"Victoria..." Haiten called. I was in charge of protecting the center while the majesties gathered at the meeting point to depart together. "Sifona... she must be somewhere in the city."

"Damn it!" Queen Agnes cried, getting back to her feet after stumbling from the quake I caused. She raised her hands, unleashing violet flames that turned the undead to ash. "My daughter and niece are out there somewhere! Find them!" she ordered the soldiers.

I was torn. I didn't know if I should rush to the portal, possibly leaving the majesties vulnerable—or stay and keep them safe. My niece was nearby, accompanied by Princess Syvis, and there were few Inquisitors left in the city. Probably only two others besides me. The rest had gone to reinforce the walls.

I need to find shelter and keep Their Highnesses safe!

Elven soldiers fired seeds that sprouted into thorns and living plant barriers.

The plants burst forth violently, ripping through the ground and forming into makeshift walls. The scent of fresh wood and sap clashed against the blood and rot in the air—like nature itself was trying to push back the decay.

It was beautiful, for a second. Then a creature tore through the thorns as if it felt no pain at all.

Wooden towers erupted from the ground, and archers climbed them, raining arrows down on the monsters. Human troops fought on foot, locked in relentless battle with the undead.

If I use too much power here, I might kill more people than I save. Shit!

I leapt to the top of a building, trying to get a clearer view of the battlefield. The tiles trembled beneath my feet. That's when I saw them—black knights, riding skeletal horses, charging through the city.

It's them. It has to be those creatures. If I can kill them, the portal will close.

I began casting, summoning a massive fire blast aimed straight at them.

Then it hit me—an invisible force, like a silent explosion, passed through my body. My fire vanished. My magic was cut off, like it had been ripped away by force.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Katherine Evenhart:

"It's going to be okay, Lady Katherine," Tiffania said in a calm voice, trying to reassure me. I pressed my hand against the wound, blood pouring from between my fingers.

"You drank the healing potion—it'll kick in any second..." she added, but the uncertainty in her voice betrayed her confidence. No magic was working, and we didn't know if this strange phenomenon affected potions too.

Behind me, Queen Siofna pushed my wheelchair with effort as we rushed through a narrow alley, trying to escape the chaos that had swallowed the city center. Screams of agony and the sound of flesh being torn apart filled the air. Undead. They were everywhere, slaughtering anyone in their path. The situation was desperate—no one knew where they'd come from or what these creatures truly were.

"Watch out!" an elven soldier shouted, stepping in front of us. From the rooftops above, twisted, blood-soaked bodies leapt toward us, ignoring the way their own bones shattered on impact.

"ARGH!" the undead growled, wielding rusted, corroded weapons. Without hesitation, Tiffania spun her staff with precision, slamming one of them back into a wall. Elven soldiers surrounded us, blades drawn, fighting to hold the advancing horde at bay.

"Get to the shelter!" one of them yelled. "We'll hold them off!"

More undead poured into the alley, their grotesque howls drawing closer. Siofna glanced at the soldier who had spoken, her expression tight with grief.

"Very well—but don't try to take them all on," she ordered, then continued pushing the wheelchair with renewed force.

We moved deeper into the alley, hearts pounding from the tension. When we reached a crossroad, someone came running toward us—but before they could reach us, one of the dead leapt onto their back and sank its teeth into their skull. The person's scream was deafening, a cry of pure agony that tore through the air.

"Ahhh! Help me!" the victim cried as more undead piled onto them, ripping into their flesh with animalistic frenzy.

Siofna raised her hand, trying to cast a spell—but nothing happened. Her expression hardened.

Tiffania grabbed a sword and stepped forward, but before she could intervene, the swarm engulfed the victim's body entirely.

"Go!" Tiffania shouted, looking back at us.

"Wait!" I protested, the horror seared into my mind.

"We need a safe place!" Siofna insisted, pushing the wheelchair faster.

We turned down another alley and crossed through the back of a tavern. Inside, terrified civilians hid beneath tables, eyes wide as the chaos outside grew closer.

"We can't stop here," Tiffania said, urgency sharp in her voice. "We have to reach the shelter."

Siofna nodded, taking a deep breath before pushing the chair into the next street. Every step felt heavier, like the air itself was thick with the stench of death and despair.

"ROOOOAR!"

A monstrous roar echoed through the city, shaking walls and rumbling through the ground. Something had emerged from the massive portal.

And behind it came the sound of massive, crushing footsteps—each one making the stones beneath us tremble.

We kept moving through the alleys, each step weighed down with tension. I tried to piece together fragments of what was happening, but the only certainty was the absolute chaos surrounding us. The streets were overrun with desperate soldiers, fighting tooth and nail against wave after wave of undead. There were at least ten monsters for every living soldier.

Both sides of the street were crawling with abominations—some dragging mutilated limbs, others wielding crude weapons—but all of them advancing with no fear, no hesitation. The Saint looked on, eyes wide, clearly unsure how to respond. Behind us, something was getting closer. Its footsteps drew near, forcing us to move forward without a plan—without understanding.

"Over here!" called a voice, unfamiliar, from a stairwell leading underground. We turned toward it and saw an open doorway—inside, a man waved us in urgently.

"The shelter!" Queen Siofna said at once.

"Sebastian?" the Saint said, recognizing him, her voice filled with palpable relief.

He ran up to us, fast and focused. "Let me help with the wheelchair," he said, gripping the handles and guiding me down the stairs. Each step felt more unstable than the last, and I clung to the sides, doing my best not to fall.

Once we were all inside, he slammed the door shut behind us.

"Wait!" a voice cried out—and the door was shoved open just before the lock slid into place. I recognized them instantly. Natty and Catty.

The two of them rushed in, bloodied and wide-eyed. They were panting, exhausted, but their eyes were sharp—still alert.

Other soldiers raced to the door, pushing the heavy metal shut with practiced speed. One of them locked the mechanism with a firm twist, the metallic echo of it ringing down the corridor. Another moved beside the door, turning a crank that lowered an additional barrier—a solid iron grate that dropped into place with a heavy, final clang. The level of security was extreme, as if they expected something monstrous to come crashing through at any moment.

I noticed a small circular hatch built into the door, equipped with a locking latch—something that could be opened to peek out before deciding whether to let anyone in. A last resort, perhaps. One final check before risking everything.

When the sealing was complete, Sebastian dropped to the floor, exhausted, his breathing ragged as he wiped sweat from his face.

"What is happening out there?" he asked, his voice raw with desperation as he looked from one of us to the next.