But this wasn't an isolated incident.
All across the northern front, the same eerie phenomenon was unfolding. Dozens—maybe hundreds—of elite zombies had already been silently infected by the pale worms. Only the higher-tier Zombie Kings, with their powerful constitutions and energy control, remained unaffected… for now.
Candlewraith's psychic senses flared. He could feel it—something was off. The aura of his troops was shifting, subtly but unmistakably. And whatever it was… it was spreading.
"There's definitely something wrong," he muttered, eyes narrowing.
He and Ironhorn moved toward the outer perimeter, where a contingent of elite zombies stood guard. As they approached, an SS-class Zombie King jogged over with a wide, eager grin.
"Bosses! You need something? Just say the word! No need to come all the way out here yourselves!"
"Frostmere's undead may have already infiltrated this sector," Candlewraith said grimly.
