Shadows sprouted from beneath.
Vile hands scraped the surface, clutching at empty air as they rose from their forsaken places, fully regenerated by the mucky blackness that had submerged them.
The darkness they ascended from clung tightly to their bodies, and their pale skin gleamed softly under the moonlight. Within a few seconds, the ten who had fallen rose once more, this time with renewed false life.
They had become undying.
"W-what… is that?!" Bishop Carl's eyes widened as he witnessed ten supposedly dead people rise to their feet.
They each had darkness as their cloak and possessed taller, paler bodies. Their muscles were well-defined—almost as if they had been training in Martial Arts for a lifetime and had reached their peak. They had black, soulless eyes—save for the embers of purple that burned at the center of their hollow irises.
