Seeing the undead scattered throughout the ancient castle, Little Saim's attempt to force himself to his feet went limp. With another thud, he fell back down, his feet scraping backward like pedals as he tried to get away from the castle.
However, Little Saim had not retreated more than a few steps before he stopped.
It was not because he wanted to stop, but because several malicious gazes had fixed upon him.
As an ordinary person who had never experienced anything supernatural before, Little Saim discovered for the first time that malicious stares could carry such force... It was as though his hands and feet had been shackled; the slightest movement sent a spine-chilling cold through his back.
As Little Saim turned deathly pale and trembled all over, Angel's voice reached his ears.
"The undead naturally suppress humans with weak blood vitality." As he spoke, Angel walked in front of Little Saim. "Your blood vitality isn't weak, but unfortunately, you're too young. You're still firmly suppressed by the undead."
As Angel cleared up Little Saim's confusion, he also blocked the undead's gaze from reaching him.
Only then did Little Saim feel the suffocating air ease somewhat.
But just as Little Saim caught his breath, he felt a faint tremor beneath the ground. He lowered his head in confusion and looked at the damp earth, wet with moisture, unable to understand what was happening.
Was it an earthquake? The thought had barely flashed through Little Saim's mind when countless black threads burrowed out of the ground, accompanied by a thick stench so foul it made him want to vomit.
The black threads were like weeds. In an instant, they surrounded Little Saim and Angel.
"What are these black threads? Why do they look a little like... hair?" Little Saim cried out.