Hvítreiðr, East Gate.
The undead, positioned a hundred meters from the gate, drew their weapons and let out savage roars upon seeing their masters forced to their knees under the pressure. The undead knew no fear of death and were bound to their necromancer master, possessing an instinct to obey and protect him.
"Stop!" Taelos's voice halted the undead before they could move. Cold sweat dripped down his back as he attempted to take the initiative to salvage the situation. "Lord Ülgen, this humble wizard acknowledges his mistake! Please, grant me a shred of your magnanimity and forgive me!"
He knew his words were humiliating, but a moment's humiliation was insignificant in the face of death. Seeing 792's questioning expression as he turned his head towards him, Taelos bitterly laughed inside. "Does he doubt my loyalty? Ah, this is why I dislike young parasites. They are so inept at adapting to changing circumstances!"
