Karthas is the messenger of annihilation, the undead spirit. I have never seen its terrifying figure, and I have heard its ghostly elegy first. The living fear the spirits of the undead who will never be able to transcend, but Karthas sees only beauty and purity in the presence of the undead, which is the perfect fusion of life and death. When Karthhas was reborn from the Isle of Shadows, he resolved to serve as an apostle of the undead and bring the joy of death to all mortals.

The surface of the sea is as calm and dark as a mirror. The moon used by the pirates to locate hung low at the junction of the sea and the sky for six consecutive nights, night after night. The air seemed to freeze, and no whispers of the breeze could be heard, only the abominable requiem that the ghost knew where it came from. Vionax was a seasoned sailor who was familiar with the waters around Noxus, and she knew full well that such calm waters would only be a harbinger of disaster. She stood on the foredeck of the Darkmind, scanning the ocean in the distance with her binoculars, looking for any clues that might be used to discern direction.

"There's only sea around," she muttered to herself into the night. "I can't see the land, and I don't have the stars I know. We don't have a of wind in our sails. The crew paddled for days, but no matter what direction they were heading, they could not see land or the changing phases of the moon. ”

She rubbed her palm against her cheek for a while. She was hungry and thirsty, and the endless darkness made it impossible to accurately estimate how much time had passed. The Dark Thoughts weren't even her ship. She had always been a first mate, but Captain Mytock's head had been split in half by the Freljord pirates, so she had to take on the role of captain. The bodies of the old captain and fifteen other Noxian warriors were placed in stitched hammocks on the main deck. The growing stench of corpses was their only reliable way of estimating time.

Her gaze looked at the ocean in the distance, and suddenly her eyes widened in horror, and she saw the black mist rising from the water. Faintly recognizable shadows floated in the mist, claws and jaws flashing. The abominable requiem sounded from the sea again, now louder, and mixed with the soul-stirring death knell.

"It's black fog," she said. "Everyone to the Deck Meet"

She turned and jumped down onto the main deck and ran to the steering wheel on the back deck. Although she couldn't let the ship move anyway, if she didn't stand by the steering wheel at this time, it would almost be enough to be damned. The crew staggered from the cabin to the deck, the elegy in their ears singing of the lost soul, and although Vionax was scared and shivers down her spine, she was still moved by the poetry of the elegy. Tears poured out of her eyes and ran down her cheeks, not from fear, but from endless grief.

"Let me put an end to your grief."

The voice in her head was cold and dead, it was the voice of a dead man. The sound conjures up images of carts full of corpses on iron-trimmed wheels and knives carving yet another death mark on the cane. Vionax knew the legend of the Black Mist, and she knew she shouldn't go near the dark island to the east. She thought her ship was far away from the Shadow Isle, but she was wrong.

The black mist rolled over the ship's railing, and with it the howls and screams of the undead. The wraiths swept over them like the harmony of a chorus of death, and the crew of the Dark Thoughts screamed in horror when they saw them. Vionax pulled out her pistol, loaded and pulled the bolt, when a figure emerged from the mist; Burly with broad shoulders and a tattered overcoat, he resembles a cleric from antiquity, but his shoulders and withered skull are 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.

"Why are you crying?" the figure asked. "I'm Karthas, and I've got a big gift for you"

"I don't want your salute," Vionex said, pulling the trigger. Flames erupted from the barrel. The shot hit the horrible wraith, but the bullet pierced through without causing any damage.

"You mortals." Karthas said, shaking his head. "You are afraid of what you don't understand, and you may even refuse to have a good thing delivered to your door automatically because of it."

The monster drifted closer and closer, his staff illuminating the deck with a faint white glow. Vionax retreated from the chill of the wraith, her crew, already falling by the light of the cane, and their souls slowly flowing out of their bodies like a stream. The heel of her shoe scraped against the mesh of the hammock on the ground containing the corpse, and she tripped and fell backwards to the ground. She crawled as hard as she could, away from Karthus, crawling past the corpses of the crew.

The hammock beneath her moved.

They all began to move, writhing in the stitched hammock like a freshly caught fish struggling in the air. The tentacles of the mist snaked through the holes in the sails, and the sailsmith's sturdy-sealed stitches leaked out of the mist. Many faces emerged from the mist, the same crew members she had worked with for many years, men and women who had fought alongside her.

The wraith towered before her, the dead crew of the Dark Thoughts standing beside him, their soul forms clearly outlined in the moonlight.

"Death is not terrible, Lady Vionax." Karthas said. "Death frees you from all suffering, it makes your vision beyond the earthly things, and it allows you to see the glory of eternal life. Please embrace the beauty and miracle of death. Give up your mortal life. You don't need it. ”

He stretched out his hand, and the fire in his hand began to magnify, gradually enveloping her. She screamed as the nether fire burned through her skin, through her muscles and bones, down to her soul. The Wraith clenched her fists, and Vionax screamed as she found herself torn apart from the inside out.

"Let your soul fly," said Karthas, who carved a mark on his staff with a sharp fingernail. "You don't feel pain, you don't feel fear, you don't have the desire to feel anything, you just want to pursue the beauty that I am about to show you. Wonder and spectacle await you, mortal, why don't you crave this ecstasy"

"No," she said with her last breath. "I don't want to see it.".

"It's done," Karthas said.

Death is always vague and mysterious, and all beings are afraid of things that are incomprehensible, so they are afraid of death