Ghost Night, Part 8

Azrael paced leisurely for a few minutes, looking left to right on occasion. The undead apparently stayed away and even seemed to flee from him, seemingly sensing the unfortunate fate of their fallen comrades and the unearthly aura of power that he emitted. No creature dared approach him.

His heart was beating calmly and his mind was focused. Although the events that had transpired thus far carried physical exhaustion, Azrael remained stoic and unchanging. He hadn't even sweated.

As he walked, he came to an open plaza with dilapidated buildings and an expensive-looking carriage overturned on its side.

The same carriage that he had left a few hours earlier.

Only a few undead were in the place, but they immediately tried to get away from him as fast as they could.

Even so, a small group remained, desperately banging on the door of the overturned car. They were trying to reach something, which was hidden inside.