Thoren watched the massacre with the same detached expression.
"Almost done," he muttered calmly.
Suddenly, he creased his brow. His undead Echo Scarabs had detected many forces rushing toward their direction.
"I need to wrap this up immediately," he whispered under his breath.
He shifted his gaze to the street and urged his undead to increase their killing spree.
With most of the hidden figures killed, his undead vanguard was done with its main mission and was free to join the street battle.
The western street, which had once been full of noise and arrogance, was now a broken battlefield stained with blood.
Broken tables, shattered doors, crushed weapons, and severed limbs lay scattered across the muddy ground.
The surviving enemies were already losing their courage.
"They are coming!"
"Do not let them come!"
"Stop them!"
Watching the many cloaked figures rushing toward them, many that were still holding their ground trembled, their backs drenched in cold sweat.
