Previously, he thought it was because they were already dead. That had been the only explanation his mind could accept.
But now, he realized that was not the case.
The terrifying feeling surrounding these undead had nothing to do with them being undead.
It was something far deeper.
Far more sinister.
From the ground, blood began to gather. Thin crimson streams seeped out from beneath the desert sand.
Some originated from the corpses scattered around the battlefield. Others appeared to emerge directly from the crimson earth itself.
Watching the blood rise from the desert, the Hunter and the Healer stumbled backward.
Their faces turned pale.
Their breathing became increasingly erratic. Cold sweat dripped continuously from their foreheads.
They looked around, trying to find out what was causing it, but they found nothing.
There was no caster.
No visible enemy.
Only the ever-growing sea of floating blood.
"W-What is..." the Berserker stuttered, taking a step back.
