The elite zombies patrolling the outer edge of Heartland had resumed their rounds, and the fringe zone of the nest had returned to a deceptive calm. On the surface, everything looked orderly, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Ethan, still wearing Boneclaw's face, walked forward with steady steps, heading toward the core region. He wanted to get a closer look at the heart of Heartland.
But just as he was about to move deeper, a faint ripple of psychic energy swept across the area—subtle, like a tide brushing the shore, but unmistakably probing.
That's some serious sensory range... Ethan's brow twitched. He immediately suppressed his aura, blending into the background like a shadow.
Inside Gorthas's zombie nest, Nightwraith's expression darkened slightly. He'd picked up on something.
"Hmm? What's up?" Gorthas asked, noticing the change in his friend's demeanor.
"Do you have any psychic-type Zombie Kings stationed on your borders?" Nightwraith asked suddenly.
