The mountain range had long since fallen silent.
More than forty awakeners stood scattered across the shattered peaks, none of them daring to move. Their eyes were fixed upon the young man floating calmly in the evening sky, filled with pure, undisguised fear.
Michael hovered high above them, his expression as indifferent as ever. His pale skin reflected the fading sunlight, while his handsome features seemed almost ethereal beneath the evening glow. His emerald-green eyes shone faintly, carrying neither excitement nor anger. Only indifference.
In one hand, he held a treasure whose brilliant radiance was rapidly fading, signaling that the Origin Battlefield's tracking effect had already been completed.
Beside him, a headless corpse slowly tumbled from the sky. Blood rained onto the broken mountains below.
But the youth himself wasn't the only source of everyone's fear. It was what surrounded him.
Undead.
