There is a saying on my native island. "The wind steals people's breath in order to speak." Do you want me to describe the black fog that greeted me when I arrived in this Ionian village with a hood and reliquary cannon on my back?

The black fog also steals people's words. What they stole was the screams of the dead.

It was full of my screams—but I'm alive now.

I felt Lucian's warm hand on my shoulder, and we stepped off the boat and set foot on the land of Ionia, for some reason only his temperature could penetrate the walls of my heart like this. Only he would try so stupidly and stubbornly.

Only he understands that the only thing that can break my armor and the rules of death under it is love.

"You go high, I go low?" I asked, and he was lost in thought, and I could feel the temperature on his hands cool down. At that moment, he saw not me, but the woman he had worked so hard to save, the cursed me who had been forced to flee for the rest of his life. He saw the scythe draw towards her...... He looked at her, and he saw her in my eyes.

"I'm going low." He only said this sentence, and the rest was expressed in silence. Now his hands are on his twin guns. "Senna ......," his voice choked slightly under the weight of memory.

"It's okay," I said softly. I remember the woman too.

On the horizon, darkness rolls in, casting a village hewn out of stone in darker shadows, drowning in torrential rains, and worse is to come. In that darkness lies the light. It was another sentry who summoned us here.

I had to fight my way to find it.

The mountain road leading to the village has been eroded by storms for hundreds of years, leaving behind only the hardest rocks. I could feel the wind whining on my hood, the mist of the waves splashing on my skin, as if the whole world was holding me back, warning me of the darkness ahead. But what daunted me the most was the howling sound in the village......

That's my curse. The Black Mist knew I was coming. It will be the first to come to me.

"It's ambush time again." I muttered to myself, indifferent, and in the dead darkness of the sky, ghosts poured out. I draw them in with every breath.

I drew my weapon.

The relic's stones moved in unison, they were all relics of the deceased sentinels, each of which had changed hands many times. Among them were men, women, fathers, and sisters, all taken away by the darkness. But when I hold my weapon, I also hold their light, which shines in the twin chambers of this gun.

The tentacles of the black mist slammed into me, and the resentful spirits within coalesced. I was beaten and staggered backwards a few steps, and I was about to fall into the mess below, but I finally got my ground. With a loud roar of thunder, the ghost's screams mingled with the rain and the crashing waves. But the light that follows the thunder is not lightning.

It's my relict cannon, and the light bullets that send out make the wraiths boil and evaporate into black shadows.

It needs to be in control. It needs to be centralized. I had to use every fiber in my body to fight the black mist. And I can't stop. You can't stop for a moment in this life.

Each shot burned out a Wraith, and then a new one appeared. I was very close to the village, and I could see new spirits rising up and running towards me.

Run to Fuguang.

"Annaba, are you there?" I shouted. I've only met him once, when Urias took me to the Sentinel Conference. It was rare for the sentinels to hold a rally, but there was something that frightened Urias and had to call all the sentinels together. He didn't tell me the details, but I knew a thing or two from the way they looked at me......

Their ignorance can aggravate the suffering. They will try to penetrate my armor, but all they find in the end is helplessness and compromise.

My fire never stopped, and I burst into the village. The wraiths were fast, and they stormed into the cottages, which were almost as old as the island, carved out of the island's boulders. But there is order in chaos. Wraiths hovered overhead. What do they crave? It's not just life. And not just the soul. It's not just me......

"Annaba!" I shouted again, and the storm barely made me hear.

"Here! Come on! A frightened voice answered me. It was a woman's voice...... Then her light met with me in the darkness.

It was Annaba's apprentice, Ou Ouwang.

At her feet lay a man, two figures surrounded by darkness. Annaba's holy stone broadsword shone dimly on her face, and her brow was solemnly focused, guarding the fallen mentor.

He has passed on the spark to the next ...... His sacred stone was not lost.

"We must get out of here," the woman said, trembling, "and we must take the villagers away." I can still hear them. It must be them......" She paused, looking at the man at her feet, confused and pained. "I can still hear his voice......"

Although the back of her hand was no longer bloodless, she still held the hilt of her broadsword, and I took the holy stone cannon behind my back and gently wrapped it around her shoulder.

"We'll get through it together," I told her. Behind her, I saw the entrance to the village catacombs. The spirits gathered there. "All of us together." I added briefly.

Whatever Black Mist wants, it must be there.

The tomb was eroded by numerous floods. As we left the village and went underground, the storm was still asserting its power, and the rain was trickling down the rock walls of the tomb. But if we were to drown deep underground, it would not be the rising tides or the rain squall that would drown us......

We will be drowned by a tumbling black mist that engulfs us with a viscous, suffocating roar.

I could hear the screams of the people of my hometown, the screams of the black fog when I first saw death as a child. I could hear the echo of myself, I could see Lucian's expression, the first time death had seen me. I was struck by the anger and fear of those above me who were waiting to die, who cried out in a language I didn't understand, but I understood the pain they were trying to express.

Wraiths emerge from all sides of the tomb, trapped in a monstrous cloud of pain, destined to cause more suffering. But no amount of heart-rending screams of the living could soothe their own howls. And no matter how hot my Light may be, it will not do as much damage to them as the pain of returning to darkness.

So, instead of firing, I hugged them, and death would follow.

My calling is irresistible. I can pull the black mist out of the other evil qualities and into my body. I felt death rush in, pushing away the lies of my flesh. While the black mist was entangled with me, I let those souls leave one by one. All those who have been drowned here. For a split second, I felt like I saw Annabal......

Only a vague shadow hesitated, a slowly awakened will. It hovered for a moment, then turned to face me, its eyes where they were, its anger burning.

"No," I whispered through the veil of death, now a ghostly ghost. "You don't have a place to speak. You can only listen. ”

I filled the chamber with black mist, and the pain and fear I had gathered from the source poured out into cannon fire, shooting where it belonged. Darkness collided with darkness, and the light within me began to flicker. Life won't let me go. I felt my body come back, and as the last shimmers of fog left me, a breath poured into my chest, I fell to my knees with my legs brace.

"Did I miss something?" A voice came from the depths of the tunnel.

"You know. Old. Although I was still struggling to breathe, I spoke calmly.

"The ruined king looted the tombs and searched for something?" Lucian asked.

"Almost." I replied. I looked up at Ou Ouwang, and her expression began to be relieved. The greatsword in her hand was still pointed at me.

There is a saying on my native island. "The wind steals people's breath in order to speak."

Amid the noise and roar of the black mist, I heard the dead talking.

And now I'm going to give them back the voice.