Three days had passed.
The air inside the ruined tower was cold and stale.
The wind howled outside, carrying the scent of decay and dried blood.
Inside, Narak sat motionless on his throne of jagged bones, his glowing red eyes shut as he cultivated.
The veins on his pale skin pulsed with dark energy, and the aura around him twisted like black smoke.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the broken metal door.
The sound echoed through the silent hall.
A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing the same zombie subordinate from before.
He stepped inside carefully, his head bowed low.
"My King," the zombie said in a cautious voice.
Narak did not open his eyes. "Speak."
The subordinate hesitated for a moment before continuing.
"There has been a change at Rover Base."
Narak's eyes remained closed, but his fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of his throne. "What change?"
