The golden light at Dustin's fingertips flickered out just as the last zombie at the warehouse entrance crumbled to dust. Dark brown fluid splattered across the weathered cobblestones, releasing a nauseating stench.

Nathaniel leaned on his broken spear, his chest heaving with each breath. Zombie bone fragments were still embedded in the dented plates of his armor.

He looked at the bodies scattered across the ground, then at the white figure ahead. His eyes reflected the gratitude of someone who had escaped death.

"Thank you for saving us, sir. Your kindness will never be forgotten," Nathaniel said with a respectful nod.

Not a single stain marked Dustin's pristine white robes. His eyes swept over the scattered zombie remains below with a sharp, eagle-like gaze, and he frowned slightly.

"These were just scouts. Where is the actual zombie army?" he asked.

Nathaniel's expression immediately turned grim. He turned toward the southern part of the city, where thick gray fog shrouded the