The undead horde spilled into the training grounds like a tidal wave of rotted steel and bone, their hollow sockets glowing faintly in the dim light. Every clatter of their armor and every scrape of their rusted weapons turned the air heavy with dread.
Or, at least, it should have.
"Uh… hey." Alex tilted his head, pointing at one of the charging corpses. "Is it just me, or does that one run like it's late for the bathroom?"
Everyone turned their heads mid-battle prep, wondering if something like that was actually happening.
Then, they saw it.
Sure enough, one particularly ragged undead lurched forward, knees stiff, arms swinging at its sides like broken windmills.
"Pfft—" Jessy covered her mouth, but her shoulders shook.
"Oh gods." Clara exhaled, her lips twitching. "It looks like it's skipping."
"Skipping? That's… hopping death, right there." Rufus muttered, his nanosuit clicking up into place as his visor lit up.
