The musculoskeletal pain of his whole body was still scattered, and Asa found himself lying on the altar that had been hidden under the treasure of gold coins. There is a complex magic array drawn under the body, and the black gem in the center is exuding majestic vitality, but the magic array has been stained red with blood, and it is his blood.

The blood had come from a neat wound in an artery in his wrist, which had just been cut. His hand was on top of the black gem, and the blood was still flowing, and the black gem was almost completely soaked in blood.

Asa jumped up suddenly, healing mana everywhere, and the wound on his wrist immediately stopped bleeding. A few meters in front of him, a red-haired, black-clad woman was looking at him, her angular-edged face now full of strange and suspicious looks, as if she had more suspicions in her heart than Asa.

"Why????

Asa looked at the woman conjured up by the black dragon in a daze, shocked and angry, he still didn't understand what was going on.

"Aren't you from the Necronomicon Guild?" Moriel roared, and the cavern trembled. This grandiose voice comes from such a woman's body, and it sounds very incongruous. She seemed to be angry.

"I'm not ......," Asa replied slowly, shaking his head. His eyes were already red, and he could feel the rage under the veins of his head, and if he talked about anger, he assured that the anger in his heart was definitely a thousand times angrier than the red-haired woman in front of him.

No matter who it was, after saving the other party so hard and almost being killed by the other party, he couldn't help but be angry, he really wanted to beat the face in front of him with one punch.

But Asa could hold back, even if he was a hundred times more angry now. He was well aware of the difference in strength between himself and the dragon, who had regained his strength. Reason let him know that if this punch is really thrown, it will definitely be his own face.

Morriel didn't speak again, just looked at Asa with those huge yellow dragon eyes. There is still no murderous aura, and some are all the kind of unique momentum that emanates from every cell of the body. Any human being. As long as you are still a human being, you can't help but feel pressure under such momentum.

Asa didn't speak either. The nerves in his whole body were tense, and his body was very weak after blood loss, and even if he was not weak, he didn't seem to have any room for resistance, this was just the body's natural reaction in the face of momentum.

Rodhart and Hilika had already moved themselves from the sunken rock face, their tattered and deformed bodies seemed to recover, and they were trying to move towards the Templars' remaining corpses like two crushed cockroaches.

Finally, a long sigh came from Moriel's nose. Her expression looked very strange, and the majestic and compelling aura was also much lessened.

She looked at Asa and said lightly, "Okay, take it easy, although you have the leaves of the World Tree and the meditation of Archibald." The most important thing is that there is no brand of the black star in the body, and it is useless for me to kill you. ”

"It's useless?" Asa was stunned, he didn't understand what it meant.

"Let's talk, human. First of all, let's talk about how you came here through this necromantic guild's exclusive passage, and since you are not a member of the necromantic guild, how can you have these two necromantic puppets. You seem to have a lot of things in you that I didn't expect. ”

Although I still can't figure out what the hell is going on and I'm getting more and more confused, I still feel very angry. But Asa breathed a sigh of relief. At the very least, Morriel didn't seem to want his own life anymore.

The Shadow Spiral Mountains are like a vast net, winding across the land for an endless time, in which there is almost no life, and all life is swallowed up by the dead silence and dark aura of this web. Anything that hurts into this place without permission, the animal, can only be consumed to the last bit in this breath

vitality, and then this is nourished by the breath to become skeletons, zombies, ghosts and other undead.

The most central part of this mountain range. An extremely high solitary peak rises from the ground and goes straight to the end. The peaks of the mountains in a radius of dozens of miles were raised, and above the peak was only a platform tens of meters square, and in the center of the platform, on top of an ancient altar, a black mist was surrounding it.

The boundless aura unique to the Shadow Spiral Mountains was already as strong as substance on the platform at the top of the mountain, it was the breath of death, the breath of blackness, and the mist on the altar was the thickest, purest, and most condensed point of that breath.

It is not that the breath emitted by this mist permeates the mountain range, but that the breath of the entire mountain range automatically converges here, and then emits out, and the cycle repeats itself. This peak is the axis of this huge web of mountains. And this black mist is the meridian in the very center of the axis. Prime.

But in this place where the death gas was strongest and strongest, an old man was standing on the platform, staring at the black mist in amazement. The old man was very old, with his back bent, and there were so many wrinkles on his face that it seemed that the ugly face was made up of wrinkles, and he was also very thin, and he was not even very stable on his feet.

The tattered robes were blowing in the mountain wind, and it seemed that even his people might be blown out by the wind on this peak at any moment.

Even the strongest of the Meridian Behemoths. It was not reliable to support it for a long time in this thick dead aura, but such a thin and aging old man seemed to be fine in the face of such a strong dark aura. The breath that annihilates all life is like water in front of a fish.

"Mr. Shante, how do you think of this place?" another old man appeared at the edge of the platform. This old man doesn't look very old, he is very neat in his robe, and his spirit gives people the feeling that this person can be very sober at any time.

Mr. Shante did not answer, still silently staring at the black mist on the altar. After a while, he opened his mouth and asked slowly, "Stephen, how many times have you not been here?"

"It's been about twenty years. I've come up and seen it once since Sandru broke the hilt of his sword. Stephen thought for a moment and replied.

Shante said lightly: "I haven't been up for more than 50 years. I haven't come up to see it since I came here more than fifty years ago to receive the brand of the Black Star and become a necromancer. ”

"Then why did the teacher come here today?" asked Stephen, noticing that the old man's words and voice seemed to be a little different than usual. "Your body ......"

"That kid helped me heal. ”

"That kid ......" was slightly stunned at first, and then a look of surprise flashed across Stephen's face.

"That's the ......"

"Yes. It's the kid who learned death magic with Sandru and Vidney has always wanted to pull into the guild. Not long ago, that kid came to me. It was Elgrimnell who had guided him, and he had been asked to follow a path that Lord Archibald had designated only the Acting Guildmaster to take. ”

The look of surprise on Stephen's face was even heavier. Since Shante has left the guarded passage, it means that he was really allowed to pass. "Oh......? Did you really just let him in?"

"The boy picked up the hilt of the Black Star in front of me. ”

Shante had no expression on his face, and his voice was very soft, dry and astringent, like a pile of ashes blowing in the wind.

Stephen still heard clearly, but this time there was no surprise on his face, just a blank, then he sighed, and also looked at the black mist in the center of the altar and did not speak.

In the eyes of everyone else, it was just a pitch-black mist, and in their eyes, as necromancers who had accepted the recognition of the Pitch Black Star, they could all see clearly that the center of the mist was a pitch-black long sword.

Black. It's black. There is no adjective other than black accident that can describe this sword. It's like a sword that brings together all the darkness and darkness in the world. It's just that this sword doesn't have a hilt now, but the blade is stuck alone on the altar.

This is the Black Star, a dark artifact that is said to be a world-changing artifact.

"I felt it very clearly, he really picked it up, took it. The aura of the Dark Star had completely merged with his body, and at least for a moment, he was infinitely close to the Necromantic King. Shanter's eyes looked at the long sword in the pitch-black mist, and his eyes were like the dead air around him, so heavy and thick that he could barely dissolve.

"The Necromantic King...... With the vitality of the Sun Well and the leaves of the World Tree, and with true meditation, does the gathering of these things the gathering of power?" Stephen smiled lightly, half bitterly and half miserably. In other words, according to Mistress Archibald's prophecy, he will one day come here and pull up this dark star. So we, the necromancers, will be faithfully surrendered to His feet...... Diya Valley ...... And this is the end of the history of this entire continent. ”