"What?!" Stratford lowered his head, gazing at the rotten hand that had tightly clasped his ankle.
With a simple swing of his leg, the hand was destroyed.
But more hands popped up one after another.
"W-What is happeneing?!" The werewolf stated in panic.
The ground split open with a sickening crack, and from the gaping fissures, decayed hands clawed their way to the surface.
One by one, a horde of zombies emerged from the ground, their flesh rotting and riddled with maggots. Their eyes were hollow and lifeless.
The smell of death and decay filled the air. It was thick and overpowering.
"It can't be!" Stratford subconsciously retreated. He glanced at Adam, who was still standing atop the destroyed building, and blurted out, "You… you are a necromancer?!"
Adam's lips curled up into a smirk, the lotuses in his eyes shining brightly. "Guess?"
