The gray-white rift looked as though someone had viciously slashed open the sky of the Divine Realm with a knife. At first, it was only a thin line, but in the blink of an eye, it expanded wildly into an Undead Gate spanning the horizon.
Within the gate, an endless breath of death poured out like a flood.
That breath was icy cold, mingled with howls and wails that seemed to come from the depths of the netherworld, instantly casting a hazy gray pall over this stretch of the Divine Realm.
The first to step through the gate were densely packed Skeleton Soldiers.
Ghostly green soul flames danced in their eye sockets. Holding bone blades and bone shields, they marched with the precision of a well-trained army.
Next, heavily armored Death Knights charged out on skeletal warhorses, their hooves striking the void with dull, thunderous sounds.
Behind them came Liches floating in midair, their gray robes billowing and spectral blue glimmers of death magic swirling around them.
But most eye-catching of all were the few Bone Dragons circling before the gate.
The leading Frostbone Dragon, in particular, was as massive as a moving mountain. Ice-blue dragon bones covered its entire body, and its spread wings blotted out the sky and sun, every bony wing shimmering with the strange luster of water and fire intertwined.
Merely hovering there, it made even the surrounding air of the Divine Realm grow heavy.
Yet this was far from over.
After the Undead Legion, a great number of grotesquely shaped Cursed Spirits poured out of the gate.
Some resembled twisted lumps of flesh, some enormous maws lined with sharp teeth, and others shadows condensed from human fear.
They lacked the orderly formations of the undead creatures, but gave off an even colder, more sinister presence.