The mutant beast horde roared as they surged forward once more, crashing into the zombie ranks with renewed fury. After the earlier clash, they were no longer hesitant—if anything, they were more bloodthirsty than before.
"This is our home turf!"
"Fighting us in the forest? You're asking to die!"
"..."
One by one, the Xenobeasts lunged into the fray, tearing into the zombies with savage abandon. The two sides rolled across the ground, locked in a frenzy of claws, fangs, and rotting flesh. It was pure chaos—brutal, primal, and unrelenting.
But then—
"Your turf? Did you ask me first?"
A calm, deep voice echoed through the battlefield.
From the zombie ranks, a figure stepped forward—tall, bark-skinned, and crowned with twisted branches. A tree-like Zombie King, his presence ancient and commanding.
Gorewood.
"Arboreal Domain."
With a low chant, green energy pulsed from beneath his feet, spreading outward like ripples in a pond.
