Right now, the battle between the Zombie Kings of Southvale and the human forces was raging with brutal intensity. It was the perfect setup for a third party to swoop in and reap the rewards while both sides were locked in a stalemate. Bloodveil wasn't about to walk away from that kind of opportunity.
He was already scheming in his head—he just needed to wait for the right moment. Then he'd strike, ambush one of the human elites, and snatch their crystal core in one clean move.
Up ahead, the fight had reached a fever pitch. Ethan was surrounded by four top-tier human fighters. He weaved in and out of their attacks, sometimes dodging, sometimes throwing out illusions to confuse them. On the surface, it looked like he was barely holding his own.
Tharen's body radiated a biting chill, his expression twisted with fury.
"That Zombie King in the white shirt? He's nothing special!"
"I told you—if I'd been at the Battle of Skywall, he never would've made it out alive!"
"Die!"
