In the murmur, gray mist rolled out from Jason's sleeves, enveloping the entire scene.
It covered the space between the charging black-clad knight and the ordinary cavalry.
They instantly lost their vision.
However,
they did not lose their hearing.
The sound of earth being turned.
Not with a shovel, from above, but from beneath, from deep underground, dry hands pushed up from within.
Resentment.
Hatred.
Pain.
As the hands gradually rose.
Eventually, breaking through the soil.
Roar!
In a silent roar, skeletons crawled out from the earth.
They were farmers in life, slain by bandits.
Now, they are undead seeking vengeance.
The black-clad knight propelling his warhorse forward suddenly felt a jolt, the horse pitching uncontrollably.
Trapped the horse's leg!
The black-clad knight skillfully flipped and landed steadily.
For the knight, such an occurrence didn't even count as unexpected.
So, in mid-flip, the knight drew a revolver from the saddle.
