The shadows of the trees on the outskirts of the forest grew sparse, and a strange atmosphere filled the air as the delegation of the Sand Ridge Tribe finally arrived near the Demon King's camp.
Standing at the edge of the woods, Siya gently pulled down the hood of her Storm Cloak, revealing her light brown scales tinged with gold and her slender amber eyes.
She squinted, gazing ahead, and softly murmured to herself.
"We've finally arrived."
Nema stood quietly behind Siya, resembling a gray-brown statue, with cold sharpness and vigilance gleaming in her deep green eyes.
Her scales subtly changed with the colors of the environment, allowing her to almost blend seamlessly with the surrounding trees while standing in the shadow.
At this moment, her gaze was fixed on the busy skeleton soldiers and corpse ghosts ahead, her voice low and hoarse, with a faint trace of fear.
"These guys are all 'undead'. Are we... really going to join them?"
The so-called undead are spirits.
