Alistair found his mother standing off to the side, her figure calm and unmoving amid the chaos.
Wild, untamed energy crackled around her body, warping the air itself and making her seem both magical and immortal.
The power did not flare outward in visible flames or lightning, yet its presence was unmistakable—heavy, oppressive, and vast, as though the world itself bent around her will.
At that moment, no matter how hard he tried, Alistair could not even comprehend what kind of ability she was using.
There were no runes, no gestures, no signs he could recognize.
The force was invisible, like the wind—unseen and formless—yet its effects were horrifyingly clear.
The zombie horde was pushed back relentlessly, bodies dragged across the ground as if struck by a massive, unseen tide.
Those at the front were crushed and flung aside, while the ones behind stumbled and collided, unable to move forward no matter how hard they struggled.
