Edward's expression instantly twisted into dread as the ground beneath him trembled.
Undead... dozens of them began to rise from the floor, their hollow sockets glowing with a faint, malevolent hue. Even without moving, the sheer power radiating from them was suffocating.
'Impossible... the aura... it's too strong for mere undead.'
As Edward laid eyes on the grotesque beings, his face darkened. He immediately released Alex, stepping back cautiously. But the undead didn't move. They stood eerily still, motionless, as if waiting for something.
'Why aren't they attacking? What's going on?'
And then—a voice echoed through the chamber, low and ancient, shaking the air itself.
"You've made the right choice, human."
It was Azrael.
"I can sense your strength... at least by the standards of this low-class world. But understand this—if you and I clash here, this place will be reduced to rubble. Thousands of lives will be lost in mere seconds. Are you willing to risk all of that?"
