Tareef stood there silently, gazing at the tattered corpse of the burly black figure. He had decided to use more strength, avoiding any accidents in the process.
"Ohh, Lord Tareef! That Possessed was just like an infant before your holy might!" Clay uttered, stars forming in his hazy eyes.
'So cringe… now you make me wanna bury myself six feet below…'
Tareef sighed, still not taking his eyes off the corpse.
He knew well of Possessed's tenacity; they were just like zombies in a sense.
Ciro and Clay approached slowly, apprehensively surveying the house.
"Is there a possibility of more Possessed existing in Blythe?—no, Kynburgh?" Ciro inquired solemnly, his eyes darting around.
"Hardly… our fortress is not so low," Tareef retorted, feeling paranoid by his words.
'For one to exist under our nose, there might also be more of them, but… why did he expose himself?
