Shura’s sword flashed, slicing through the grotesque, decayed flesh. A chunk of meat went flying.0

“Urgh!” 0

The battle took place just outside a cave some distance away from the village. Shura and a small group of warriors held their ground at the cave’s entrance, fighting off a horde of undead. 0

These were no ordinary foes. Among them were abominations like the one-horned beasts, with patches of exposed bone, skeletal soldiers moving unnaturally, and bizarre, headless knights. Worse still, some of the attackers bore antlers-like deer, just like Shura.0

“What the hell are you doing! Why are you attacking us all of the sudden?” Shura shouted.0

Her question went unanswered. The antlered warriors struck their sword with unwavering focus, their lifeless eyes staring past her. Their movements were skilled, befitting seasoned warriors of the Mahal Tribe. 0

However, instead of the sacred energy their people were born with, their power reeked of decay and despair—a damp and oppressive aura that clung like a shadow.0

Even someone as young as Shura could tell something was horribly amiss.0

“This smell…” Shura muttered, wrinkling her nose. An instinctive revulsion washed over her. Her memory raced back to a week earlier.0

The villagers had greeted Shura and her group warmly upon their return. Since Kim Do-Joon had earned the village’s admiration, anyone who aided him was bound to be celebrated.0

Shura,...0