An uninvited guest is welcomed in the underground vault outside of Helia City.

The man was burly, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a tattered overcoat, like a priest from antiquity, but his shoulders and withered skull were all armed like a warrior.

He had a book chained around his waist and a long cane in his hand, which was densely engraved with counting symbols.

The tip of his staff shone with a ghostly light, and his other hand burned with ghostly fire, like a fallen star.

The figure floated down the steps steadily, his robe did not wave, it seemed that he didn't have to lift his feet to move, and the black mist would support him forward.

After walking the long staircase, he raised his staff, and the nether-green light illuminated the underground vault.

Closed off underground, this dark basement is the best surviving architectural site hundreds of years after the cataclysm.

Of course, the reason why this place is so well maintained is also related to the fact that the owner of this place is a cruel and tyrannical and powerful and deceitful undead.

The geists who rushed to this place were captured and tortured for eternity, and without attraction, those undead naturally would not come to add to the remnants of corruption.

"Rare guests! Karthus, don't come unharmed! Suddenly there was a hoarse but sharp voice in the darkness, which carried extraordinary enthusiasm, but it made people feel no warmth, only cold.

If it weren't for the fact that Karthas had become a disembodied lich, he might have gotten goosebumps from the sound.

At the end of the road in front of him, a miserable green ghost fire was suddenly lit, and the ghost fire was imprisoned in a soul lamp, illuminating a hazy ghost shadow.

The warden of the Soul Lock Warden's withered skin was shrouded in a tattered hooded cloak, and the lantern in his hand faintly revealed the flesh and skin that still remained on his body. Barren and dilapidated, emotionless, yet with a sadistic frenzy.

He was sitting on a tiger chair soaked in black blood, sitting in a lazy position, and his bones felt like they were about to fall apart.

There were many prisoners who hoped that the warden would fall apart because of a mistake when he was on his torture equipment, but he was "alive" and could stand up and stretch his waist to make a crackling sound of bones.

He always used this way of dying his own life to bring a little hope to those imprisoned souls, and then pretended to be unintentionally ruthless to snuff them out.

His actions offered the prisoners a myriad of hopes, all of which they hoped for in the death of the warden, who had tormented them for countless years.

Stretching your waist and breaking your spine is just one of the common ones.

But without exception, he turned countless hopes into despair, just to satisfy his cruel evil taste.

Because in the eyes of the warden's undead - the human heart is a toy of flesh.

"Hammerstone, if it weren't for the important things to discuss, I wouldn't have thought of you for a trip."

Seeing Hammerstone stand up and drag the chain closer, the green light of Karthas's hollow eye sockets flickered, and he silently floated back a few steps, out of the distance of the hook and sickle.

As a latecomer, Karthas knew very well that he and Hammerstone were not all the way.

He sings the poignant music composed by death, and gives the beauty of annihilation to the world in the form of a chorus; Hammerstone, on the other hand, delayed death with all kinds of tortures, and finally wasted it into a high-pitched and hoarse noise.

But they are all undead, they are all messengers of Shadow Island, even if the well water does not interfere with the river water on weekdays, but when the factors that can change the status quo of Shadow Island come, the undead will choose to unite.

"Tell me bluntly, I don't have any tea for you here." Hammerstone gave a grim smile: "I guess it won't be a good thing. ”

"An undead determined to destroy the Isle of Shadows, Lucian, with another transcendent with a strong soul, you have created a terrifying enemy for us, and they will come to destroy the well-being of the dead. But before that, they will come and destroy you first. ”

Karthas pressed his sharp nails against his rough cane, his voice ethereal, mocking, and worried.

"I think the Night of Soul Eclipse initiated by you is the culprit, right?" Hammerstone slashed the hook and sickle around, and didn't buy it.

"It was you who came to me and wanted some fresh souls to torture, and finally this annual carnival of the dead." Karthas does not forbid the clenched palms of the fingers of the white bones.

"I'm just a catalyst, and the idea that you want to spread the blessings of immortality to the world of the living is already clear." Hammerstone laughed dryly, and Karthas's nervousness made him extremely satisfied.

Karthas, a latecomer, has lofty ambitions, but in front of the treacherous hammerstone, he is still a little immature.

"That's enough, this kind of shirk won't solve the problem." Karthas saw Hammerstone's intentions, and the undead of bad tastes wanted to get a grip on his kind.

All beings who have consciousness, whether they live or die, are full of interest.

"What else did you observe in the Hall of Connections?" Hammerstone stopped laughing.

"They're coming to kill you, landing on the gray sand and heading straight for Helia, for the obvious purpose of the curse - they have come for the curse, and they know exactly where the source of the curse is."

"Didn't they meet Hecarim?"

"Yes, Hekarim's strength is far inferior to theirs, he has died several times, and now he is still sealed and cannot enter reincarnation."

"You should go and rescue him, there are many ways to hide in your wise skull." Hammerstone said.

"It's not a big deal, the only thing that seals Hecarim is a few thorns and crystals that will wither and taint under my magic. It's you, they have already thought of using the means of sealing to prevent us from joining the reincarnation, and they must have some understanding of the nature of the black mist, aren't you afraid of being sealed by them in the same way? ”

"Do the undead feel scared? What a big joke. Lucian wanted to kill me a hundred times to relieve his hatred, how could he be willing to seal me so easily? ”

"Foolishness!" The angry voice of Karthus stirred up the Black Mist, and sooner or later the arrogance of the Hammerstone would kill them.

"Rest assured, Karthas. I know Lucian better than I have a few holes in my cloak, and I won't let him get what he wants. ”

With that, Hammerstone laughed gloomily again, and even Karthas was intrigued by Hammerstone's new plan.

"Oh? Can I hear about your plan? Another pleasant ordeal? ”

"No, this is my surprise for him, and to say it will be less of a crucial sense of anticipation. And I'll have to ask you for a favor, you're the undead who know the Isle of Shadows best. ”

"What do you want to ask?" Karthas was unsparing in his teachings.

"Let me keep my mind at the end of this reincarnation to the place where the black fog meets. To be honest, I haven't been killed yet, so I've never been there. "Hammerstone has witnessed so many deaths, but he has not actually died once, and there is a reason for this.

Because he knew that his death would not bring any torment to those imprisoned souls.

"The place where the black fog meets is the place where the undead are resurrected, as long as you don't disturb that adult, I can help you." Karthas nodded in reply.

"Please accept my thanks." As he spoke, Hammerstone broke off a bone from his body.

"I don't want your kneecaps." Karthas didn't smile, melting into the black mist and disappearing into the basement, leaving only the piercing shrill laughter of Hammerstone echoing in the darkness.