In an unknown place filled with tall, broken-down buildings, the air was heavy with a foul, metallic smell.
The sky above was gray, casting shadows that danced like ghosts.
Inside one of the tallest, most ruined towers, a figure sat cross-legged on a throne of jagged bones.
Narak, a level-12 Zombie King, was cultivating.
His pale, bloodless skin glowed faintly under the dim light, and the veins on his arms pulsed as though alive.
In front of him lay chunks of raw, dripping meat, which he occasionally brought to his lips.
He chewed slowly, savoring the taste, the blood staining his sharp teeth. His glowing red eyes were closed, and his energy focused inward.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the broken metal door. It creaked loudly as it was pushed open.
A zombie stepped inside, looking almost human. His dull gray skin and faintly glowing eyes gave him away, but his movements were careful and respectful.
