The desert became a slaughterhouse.
Lilith stood at the heart of the chaos, her crimson robe billowing in the hot wind, her bastard sword dripping with black blood. Around her, two hundred shadow undeads moved like a single, coordinated organism—smoky bodies flowing, blue-flame eyes burning, phantom weapons rising and falling in perfect unison.
They were extensions of her will.
The giant sand desert scorpions struck first.
Their massive pincers snapped forward, each one capable of shearing through steel. Their venomous tails arced overhead, stingers gleaming with deadly fluid. They charged in a wedge formation, their chitinous shells grinding against each other, creating a sound like breaking bones.
Lilith did not flinch.
She raised her sword and pointed.
