Ever since returning from Xenorift, PhD had fully grasped the intricacies of runes—he wasn't just dabbling anymore; he was a master. The rune barrier he carved shimmered with radiant golden light, like a wall of solid bronze, holding back the raging tide of psychic energy with ease.
Even Deathless Sovereign Nightwraith couldn't break through it—not right away, at least.
The surrounding zombies looked up, eyes wide with awe.
"Damn, PhD's the real deal!"
"That was badass!"
"We're totally winning this!"
"Hell yeah!"
The zombie underlings were fired up, their morale soaring.
But just then, another blast from the Starbreaker Cannon came screaming down, slamming into Heartland's Zombie Horde.
"Damn it!" Nightwraith snarled, baring his fangs, fury boiling inside him. Two failed assaults on the Dreadnought-class Starcruiser—both disasters. Not only had they drained his energy, but they'd also chipped away at his pride as a Deathless Sovereign.
Heartland was still on the back foot.
