"What... are these things?"
The Demon Hunter took a deep breath, trying hard not to be captured by the fear before him, yet his hand gripping the iron hammer still trembled slightly.
The sinister sound became clear at this moment, not some abstruse language, nor a deceitful song, just a hoarse monotonic breathing.
The Soul-Reviving Corpses squeezed each other, struggled out from the gap, their steps staggered, spreading black mist. They were once corpses, but now their chests struggled to heave, forcing open the adhered trachea, letting the turbid hot air flood back in.
They breathed, gasping for air like drowning people, greedily savoring the honey-like air.
As fresh air filled their decayed lungs, they seemed to come alive again, the Secret Blood surged and throbbed within, reaching a critical point.
