The undead army began to move.
As they walked toward the black abyssal mist ahead, the Pyro Lich raised his staff high. Crimson flames surged upward, spiraling around the staff like living serpents. The pressure of his mana exploded outward, pressing down on everyone nearby.
A red sigil ignited on the foreheads of everyone present—Jace, Shadow, and each Death Lord alike.
"This will protect you against the mist for exactly three minutes," the Pyro Lich said coldly. "Make it count."
Shadow and Jace nodded as they stepped forward, crossing the boundary and entering the mist.
The Abyssal Mist Fly noticed them.
For the first time, Shadow truly saw its body.
It was as if a housefly had been magnified under a microscope—grotesque, swollen, and obscene. Its surface was covered in greasy, grain-like textures, layers of chitin warped and distorted. Its wings beat slowly, but each movement dragged death behind it, pulling more and more black mist into existence.
