The eastern skies were tinged with the gray hues of dawn as Blackie, leading his army of Dark Wolf Zombies, approached the city on the east side of the Death Land. The city, once bustling with life, now stood eerily silent, its streets deserted, buildings untouched yet devoid of any signs of life. The atmosphere was heavy with an unsettling stillness, a stark contrast to the grim determination of the advancing undead army.
Blackie, in his new form, exuded an aura of quiet confidence. His jet-black fur, now more lustrous and imposing, shimmered slightly under the dim light. His movements were fluid and assured, a reflection of his enhanced abilities and the power he now wielded.
As they reached the outskirts of the city, Blackie halted his troops with a raised hand, his eyes scanning the empty streets and abandoned structures. The lack of resistance or any form of activity struck him as odd.