Realizing he was no match, the dark-skinned Zombie King quickly backed down and begged for mercy.
"Oh…" Ethan nodded, then withdrew the Domain of the Dead.
Honestly, he figured those low-level zombies weren't worth much anyway—might as well help them shed some of their "impurities."
The terrifying power of the Domain of the Dead finally receded like a tide pulling back into the sea.
The dark-skinned Zombie King's knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud. Just resisting for a moment had drained most of his strength.
The other zombies weren't doing much better. They looked like wilted eggplants after a frost, completely deflated. Their eyes were locked on Ethan, filled with fear and awe.
Ethan stood tall, looking down at the Zombie King. The sight reminded him a bit of when he first met Little Shadow.
Same pitch-black skin, same ragtag crew running guerrilla-style with no real territory—barely scraping by.
"What's your name?" Ethan asked.
