The thralls obeyed instantly, an abomination of bodies moving not in chaos, but in a grotesque imitation of unity. Feet scraped and claws skittered. Bones cracked beneath unnatural movement. The horde poured into the narrow street like a tide of death, scraping along the cobbles with sickening friction, their cries twisted by the Piper's will into something voiceless, yet still screaming.
Ludwig watched them approach in silence.
At first, he did not move. His expression betrayed no urgency. His eyes, half-lidded beneath his pale brow, simply watched the flood of bodies coming toward him. Then, without a word, he stepped forward, not away from them, not to brace or defend, but directly toward the Piper.
The masked figure blinked, eyes darting beneath his mask. "You're… coming for me?" he said, voice cracking as he stumbled back a step. "Then be torn apart for your Hubris!"
