"Annoying little fish."
Velra clicked her tongue as another cluster of undead collapsed into ash.
The air reeked of decay—old blood, mold, and something sour that clung to the back of her throat. It was the kind of stench that made even vampires wrinkle their noses.
There were dozens of them. Maybe more.
But they were low-tier undead.
Mindless. Sloppy. Poorly bound.
One properly cast wide-area spell would have erased the entire horde in seconds.
And yet—
'This is… dragging on.'
Velra felt it then, the subtle weight settling behind her eyes. Not exhaustion—not quite—but the warning sign that came before it.
Her mana circulation felt tight, strained, like a muscle being overworked.
She had been careful not to draw from her blood reserves. Too careful.
Behind her, footsteps crunched over bone fragments and frozen soil.
"Faceless Imposter," Julies called out, voice annoyingly casual given the circumstances, "are we there yet?"
Velra didn't turn around.
