You have a memory, or something that feels like one, of being swarmed shoulder to shoulder by the undead horde.
But you are not in danger.
With every flinch and movement you make, you turn dozens into a thick red-black paste.
There is hardly any effort involved, the culling comes naturally.
But you are not in danger.
With every flinch and movement you make, you turn dozens into a thick red-black paste.
There is hardly any effort involved, the culling comes naturally.