Ark of the Immortal

I can't feel the passage of time, and I don't know how long it has been or how long it has been.

After the endless battle, he raised the long-broken sword in his hand, came to the corpse of the god, broke the time spell set by the god, and showed the final ruin of everything to everyone.

As for the undead, it was precisely after touching the giant egg that was shattered by Gale that he passed through a long period of time and came to the slave knight's eyes.

But so much time has passed that the blood has dried up.

The blood carrying the dark soul almost solidified in the dwarf king's shriveled body.

How can such blood become pigment?

So, the slave knight opened his dry lips and used his decayed teeth to tear apart the flesh filled with the blood of the dark soul.

The old knight feasted and swallowed all the dried blood into his body.

One, two, three.

The decaying body of the dwarf king is unable to escape the hunt of the aging knight.

Their chests were dug open, and the old knight feasted, swallowing all the dried blood into his body.

The slave knight knows that even the king's knight who fights against the abyss cannot resist the erosion of the abyss. How can his old body and dilapidated consciousness resist the temptation of darkness?

Therefore, he left pieces of his turban as a beacon along the way to guide the arrival of the hero.

Gale knew that it was the hero who hunted the king, the ashes that rekindled the first fire.

If it were him, he would definitely be able to get the blood of the dark soul, right?

The dried blood merged with Gale's body, and the activity of the dark soul reappeared.

Dark clouds gathered, covering the sky and the sun.

The dark blue thunder of humanity fell from the sky, and the deep black and red surging soul enveloped his body.

The dark soul brought powerful power and completely eroded the knight's sanity.

At the last moment, he met the hero.

Ah, it's you, Lord Ashes.

Gale held out his hand to the arriving hero.

Give me...dark soul...ah...blood...

In silence, the undead took off the sword hanging from his back.

Gale roared and threw the body of the dwarf king towards the undead.

He wants to send paint to the eldest lady, and this paint is in his body.

He promised to send paint to the eldest lady during the battle, and the paint was in the bodies of his comrades.

At the end of this time, there is no duel between kings and kings, only two undead people fighting for the promise.

I don’t know how many times the big sword penetrated the body stretched by the dark soul.

The knight who was furious due to the dark soul also regained some clarity at the end of his life.

His gray beard was stained with blood. Gale lowered his head and picked up the blood dripping from his body.

Ashes, sir...it's blood...

He once again picked up the object in his hand, brought it to the undead man, and whispered to him in a hoarse voice and dry throat.

It was like where the two met, the old Gale held up the fragment of painting in his hand and begged the undead to touch it.

Humble, yet full of hope.

This is... blood.

The undead exerted his strength and penetrated the slave knight's body with the sword blade again.

Blood, as thick as asphalt, slowly squeezed out from the wounds that penetrated the armor and body.

Well, I saw it.

Bring it to...eldest lady...

The knight wearing a scarlet hood has lost his own mind. He just repeated his last thoughts and words before losing his mind.

Let...Miss, draw...

laugh...

Thick blood sprayed.

The slave knight who fought all his life sacrificed his life for his last master.

But he walked away smiling.

Looking at the blood flowing from his body in his hands, he felt like he had found a treasure.

——

Waking up from his memories, the undead man opened his eyes.

The reason why he remembered those things was precisely because of the familiar atmosphere brought by the faint blue light.

It was the half-dragon girl, and the unique cold aura that belonged to Iredel.

But maybe this painting should have a different name.

...

Now, driven by the wind and snow, the undead lifted up the curtain covered by magic and came to what was hidden behind the surface of the holy mountain.

He returned to the foot of the Holy Mountain.

But the foot of the Holy Mountain today is completely different from before.

Dilapidated houses and fences everywhere.

What is puzzling is that in such a huge village, no one lives in this village.

The immortal man looked at the entrance to the road to the Holy Mountain, and he saw people kneeling and worshiping there.

His pupils narrowed and he saw a familiar figure.

It was the arakkoa who begged him to light the fire, burn the scroll, and rebuild their home in the paintings of Eredel.

They knelt at the foot of the holy mountain and spread all the way up the mountain path, but they lost the breath of life.

The undead walked towards the mountain path.

He wanted to go up and see what they were worshiping.

Going up the mountain road, the undead can see more arakkoa corpses.

There were also some human corpses mixed in, but they were all crawling on the ground and moving forward along the mountain road.

The wind and snow were blowing hard, and the snowflakes hit the undead man's body, forming a small layer of snow on his shoulders.

The gray-white knight moved forward, walking up the mountain road.

These familiar steps and familiar locations all identify this as the holy mountain of Kalan.

Just a day ago, the undead had watched Enya walk up these steps to the top of the mountain.

The closer you get to the top of the mountain, the more bodies you see.

The undead can occasionally see the knife in the hand of the corpse.

In this small world, there is no sunrise or sunset.

Candles will be blown out by strong winds and lights will be obscured by layers of snow.

Only endless starlight accompanied the bodies of these martyrs.

This is where time stands still.

The undead walked up all the way until they passed the last step and reached the top of the mountain.

Here, the strong wind is tearing at people's bodies like a curved cold front.

And right on top of this mountain peak, stands a church.

Just like the church in the Iredel scroll.

The undead man reached out and grasped the giant sword behind his back. He came to the door and pushed it open.

Squeak...

Accompanied by a heart-wrenching sound, candlelight lit up from the crack of the opened door, and the undead caught a glimpse of what was in the hall.

It was a pile of corpses piled in the corner, and blood spread all over the ground.

In the center of the hall, there was a trembling figure, placing his arm on the royal weapon originally used to place the flame.

Blood fell into it, trying to suppress something that wanted to spurt out.

Hearing the door open, the man made a sharp, weak voice.

So...is anyone still alive?

He chuckled quietly for a while, the sound was creepy.

Then...after me, it's your turn.

The undead walked into the hall, and his footsteps caught the arakkoa's attention.

The steps were too steady, and there was a sound of steel colliding.

So he turned his head and looked at the undead man behind him.

Outsiders?

The Crow Man sighed and couldn't help but cough twice.

Quickly leave this place, this is no longer the place for the lost... cough cough cough! You are late... no...

But before he finished speaking, he noticed something different about the man standing in front of him.

It was a hot breath, the smell of fire.

Are you... Ashes?

The weak arakkoa turned around cautiously, but he still placed his hand on the royal weapon.

With his hazy eyes, he tried to see clearly the appearance of the undead man.

The undead responded to him.

Um...this is it?

Haha...hahahaha...ha...wuwuwu...

A sharp laugh rang out, and after a moment it turned into a painful whimper.

After crying for a while, the arakkoa finally answered the undead man's question.

This is... the painting world of Ashes. It is an ancient painting world left by Lord Ashes who extinguished the flames.

The undead man nodded slightly.

That's it.

The Crow Man continued.

But...something is targeting the eldest lady.

He raised his dim eyes and said while blood was flowing into the royal vessel from his withered body.

If you have time, just listen to the story I tell...

Please, agree to...my request.

...

The ashes bring the blood of dark souls mixed with various pigments.

The half-dragon girl raised her paintbrush and dropped colors on the canvas sewn by the gods.

It was a very cold, dark, and soft painting.

It became a hiding place for many people.

After the end of the generations, the people of the Age of Fire who found their way here stayed here.