There in front of them was a skeleton carrying a bow—dead, but yet still animate.
Perhaps this should have been a frightening concept. However, Aetherus was a magical world, even if this wasn't Lysithara—a ruined city.
Undead were not that unusual… the undead could rise on their own, or as a result of magic from a caster who used black arts, or even from mana seeping out of a dungeon.
These animate corpses were of different ranks—a skeleton, sadly, was at the lowest level.
Damon glanced at it coldly, the world slowing down beneath the beholder's gaze…
He didn't sense its shadow. Then again, he hadn't been using Shadow Perception ever since he almost had his brain fried in the Whispering Forest.
Even so, he didn't sense a living shadow from it. He had encountered a lot of strange shadows, but this felt more like the shadow of an object than that of a person.
It had no life…
