Looking at the empty street before him, Thoren could not hide the faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he strode forward.
Although his strength had surged significantly and his army of undead had grown by a considerable margin, he did not allow complacency to take root in his heart.
Experience had taught him that arrogance was the fastest path to death, especially in a place like this ancient city.
If anything, the unsettling feeling of being watched had not diminished after the battle.
It had intensified.
The sensation clung to him like an invisible shadow, burrowing deep into his consciousness, pressing against his nerves with suffocating persistence.
It was no longer a vague discomfort.
It felt deliberate, intentional as though something ancient and intelligent was observing his every move.
Thoren chose to ignore it.
At least, he tried to.
