Death Began Its Charge!

How was one supposed to understand a situation like this?

When the "war machine" of the undead began to turn even the tiniest, most insignificant cog, what kind of terror and threat did that bring?

It was hard to tell clearly.

Like a person teasing an ant with a finger—even a "gentle" amount of force was often unbearable to the ant.

Nearly all of the few survivors who remained had witnessed that dark torrent symbolizing death, like a merciless natural disaster that crushed its way across the land!

Tents, fences made of bones and brushwood, piled-up temporary earthen walls, scattered figures trying to resist—

All of them were like crops reaped by an invisible giant scythe, instantly shattered and broken apart, mercilessly swallowed and crushed beneath that advancing "black line," unable to delay it for even a moment!

Indiscriminate destruction!

In the end, the only reason these onlookers hiding across the wilderness had survived was because the camps that bore the brunt of the attack had been crushed as easily as dust, accompanied by the deaths of large numbers of users and newcomers.

As for these individual "bugs" scattered about, those "cavalrymen" clad in heavy armor and moving like landslides and tsunamis could not spare them even a fraction of extra attention.

Before these high-grade undead troops, generally at least Fifth or Sixth Tier, especially the Death Knights charging in battle formation, even certain "advanced items" that had been placed under great expectations had nearly lost all meaning.

Almost no one knew where these cold, iron-hard figures had come from. All they could truly see was the "black tide" appearing in the distance: skeletal warhorses with bone spikes growing from their joints, exhaling ghostly cold mist as their iron hooves flew and shattered the earth.

Along with the riders on