"He killed them!"
"He killed them all!"
A young man clad in a long black robe muttered to himself as he fled deeper into the Uncharted Territory.
His face was pale, twisted with dread, and his breathing came in ragged gasps.
Sweat drenched his back despite the cold wind that swept across the barren land.
Again and again, he glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting a legion of undead to rise from the ground behind him.
"How could anyone control so many undead? It's impossible…"
"How did he manage that?"
"No one should be able to control so many undead at once!"
"Why has he not gone mad?"
The words tumbled out of his mouth in a frantic stream, disjointed and trembling. He sounded like a man on the verge of losing his sanity.
His eyes were bloodshot, wide with disbelief and terror.
The more he replayed the scene in his mind, the more his thoughts spiraled out of control.
The image of the silver-haired boy standing calmly amid an army of undead refused to fade.
