After cutting down the eight Headless Cavalrymen, Marcus slowed his breathing and glanced back toward the scattered Headless Grunts and drifting Mist Vultures. They hovered and shuffled about without the slightest acknowledgment of him, as though he were nothing more than empty air. It made no sense. They had clearly respawned, yet they treated him with complete indifference, neither hostile nor wary.
More unsettling still, eight new Headless Cavalrymen had materialized precisely where the previous ones had fallen. Marcus stood well within what should have been their aggro range, close enough to test the theory without stepping forward, yet they remained motionless, silent figures atop phantom steeds, as passive as the grunts wandering nearby.
He frowned, unease pricking at him. Whatever mechanism governed this place clearly did not follow ordinary dungeon logic.
