Are You Frost-Resistant?

Anse raised an eyebrow. He knew that distinctive voice all too well.

"Sosk, how did you end up mixed up with Milkor's followers?" He stepped forward several paces, his burning gaze fixed deep into the passage.

"How arrogant, daring to speak my lord's name directly." Another person answered, his voice dry and stiff, with a sense of forced toughness.

"Oh, isn't that what everyone calls him?" Anse said calmly.

The man snorted and was just about to speak when someone else interrupted him.

"Sosk, who is he?" The voice came from the darkness, low and unclear.

"He's Mr. Horley, president of the Durag Association. The one flying is Ms. Jacqueline of Jacqueline Castle. I don't know the others." Sosk's dry voice rang out, utterly flat.

Anse found it strange. That introduction had been far too brief.

With both sides at each other's throats, shouldn't Sosk have thoroughly described Anse's strength and accomplishments to keep his companions from letting their guard down?

"Durag? Isn't that Stol's territory?" the low voice asked again.

"Stol was killed by an adult Green Dragon," Sosk explained casually.

"Oh." The man's voice visibly relaxed. After a brief silence, he spoke again. "Did you kill our people?"

Milkor's followers were adept at Necromancy and controlling Undead. They could not have failed to sense the deaths of those Undead, or they would not have blocked the entrance in advance.

Anse ignored him. He felt that Sosk's relationship with the others was not particularly close; there was clearly a lack of communication between them.

He swept his gaze around. Twenty or thirty Zombies blocked the path ahead and behind, along with four Flaming Skulls and several Werewolf Zombies, most within twenty to thirty meters.

He saw no Half-dragons or Black Dragon Zombies, and there were far too few Werewolf