The chill in the underground caverns once again woke the Dark Knight from his sleep. Although this temperature no longer had any effect on Salas roaming the world as a skeleton, the humidity that accompanied the cold had a negative effect on the Dark Knight's armor, such as rust and decay, which caused the Dark Knight to complain about the necromancer who had awakened him from his grave all those years ago: why didn't he wake up the servant who had been in charge of his armor all the time before?

Complaining and complaining, Salas still sat up, casually ripped off a piece of the shroud from the corpse in a coffin beside him, and began to wipe his breastplate.

This suit of armor has been with Salas for eight years. This set of armor, stripped from the head of the Holy Knights during the Second Battle of Gosa, sometimes caused a sense of irony to well-emerge in Salas's heart. Wearing such armor, the former head of the Holy Knights, Salas, who fought to the death to maintain the rose mark on his chest, still put on armor with the same mark to fight after his death, could he not get rid of this blooming rose in his life, including the days after death?

The Dark Knight's mind drifted back to eight years ago, when he first met the demon Amtils, the current Dungeon Master. The Cosaac Dynasty, which suffered a heavy blow more than 200 years ago, finally revived many years later, once again ushered in the invasion of the Holy Knights, at this time, the Dark Knight as a mercenary, with his love Mataxis joined the army of the Cosatian Dynasty against the human Holy Knights.

The Dark Knights, who participated in the first battle of the Gosa, quickly became important figures in the Black Moon Knights of the Gosar Dynasty, and the Black Moon Knights were the last bulwark to maintain the rule of the Gosar Dynasty during the days when the mages fled the Gosarian dungeons.

That day. The Holy Knights launched the heaviest offensive since the war. Goblin villages and little devil lairs around Gosar's Dungeon. Even many cemeteries where ordinary ghosts roamed were destroyed. Billowing smoke through all around. The head of the Holy Knights led the elite knights beside him, leaving behind the Black Moon Knights who were entangled with other holy knights, and galloped towards the palace in the Gosar dungeon, in front of the palace, the dark knight Salas, who led a group of mercenaries, determined to defend the throne of the largest dungeon on the continent at any cost.

Whatever the cost, in fact, it is definitely not the mercenary's wish to confront the elite forces of the Holy Knights so quickly, except for the Dark Knights, of course, who charge the front line. Luckily I happened to move in front of the palace, and I was lucky enough to encounter a surprise attack by the Holy Knights. Luckily, the Dark Knight came face to face with the strongest of the opposing party, the head of the Holy Knights at the time, almost immediately.

The leader of the Holy Knight could never have imagined that the Dark Knight in front of him, dressed in tattered black armor and masked with his face, would be his predecessor many years ago, but the Dark Knight's eyes were immediately drawn to the rose mark on the opponent's breastplate surrounded by a circle of four-leaf clover. Once upon a time, the armor with the same markings on Salas's body was not buried with its owner, which also meant that the Dark Knight had been wearing these tattered black armors bought from the Dungeon Armor Shop since he woke up.

However, now is not the time to remember the glorious history of his life. Knowing this, the Dark Knight drew his sword from his side as he used his shield to push his opponent's spear out of reach of his body.

The duel between the two generations of Holy Knights Captains, who have been separated by nearly three hundred years, has officially begun. The moment the thunder flashed in the sky, the weapons of the two sides had already collided dozens of times. It was clear that the Dark Knight had the upper hand, and after the spear in the current commander's hand was knocked off, the sword was also broken by the sword that Salas had with him into the grave and followed him back to life, but on the other hand, the armor on both sides was clearly different: the well-crafted steel armor of the current leader was not damaged in the slightest. The black armor on Salas's body was so tattered that several ribs were indecently exposed on the dark knight's chest.

It's like a rat pulling a tortoise. The Dark Knight, who had little to do with the armor on his opponent's body, felt like he was broken, and the head of the Holy Knight on the other side, with the protection of the armor on his body, unhurriedly reached for the chain hammer hanging from the back of the saddle. Just as the Dark Knight Salas felt that the air was about to freeze, he suddenly noticed a crazy light flashing in the other party's eyes. It's not the first time I've seen this magic in my mind, and the Dark Knight has this term in his heart.

Sure enough, the current leader who took out the chain hammer was like a blindfolded rabbit, unable to find the direction of his opponent at all, and naturally the result was like a rabbit that crashed into a tree stump, smashing the shield in the hand of the Dark Knight who deliberately sent it to the door, and then sliding towards his own front door, announcing that the Holy Knights would not be able to pose any threat to the Gosar Dynasty again until a successor leader was chosen.

The Dark Knight, who had won such a laughable victory on the battlefield for the first time, stripped the current head of the Holy Knight on earth from the body of the current head of the Holy Knight on the ground, and raised his head to try to find the source of the charm that killed the current head of the clan from the crowd celebrating the victory.

All he saw was a lonely back with a huge scythe on his shoulder, black wings tightly wrapped around his body, and a pair of pointed ears that clearly belonged to a demon.

The long hiss of the skeleton Mataxis brought the Dark Knight's mind back to reality from five years ago.

A short, thin figure was cautiously trying to avoid the human skeletons scattered on the ground as it approached the Dark Knight.

Goblins, if it weren't for the goblins who fled frantically because they broke the cup that the demon Amtils loved, the Dark Knight after the defeat of the Second Gosar Defense War would still be wandering blindly on the continent until he once again found a battlefield against the human knights!

Although there are no ghosts to be seen, they are constantly harassed by naughty ghosts, and no living creature or dead thing on the continent will treat this treatment as a pleasure. Goblins are no exception.

In a hurry. And slowly approached the Goblinsette beside the Dark Knight Salas. In a tone of clarity rarely seen in his life, the Demon Amtils' request for an emergency meeting was announced to the Dark Knight. Sarath was more interested in the embarrassed look on the goblin's face than in a meeting.

"There is no doubt that the Dungeon Master has made another request to this poor goblin that is beyond the goblin's power," said the Dark Knight, as he heard the goblin's encounter with the demon asking him to "buy" a little lamp oil back into the dungeon out of nothing.

In the shortest possible time, the goblin left the cavern with a few silver coins that the Dark Knight had "generously" lent, and began to march towards the city, and the Dark Knight Salas, who easily dismissed Seth who had run to the grave to complain, decided to sleep again.

"Anyway, the archmage can't come back so quickly, don't you say? Taxis?"

There was no answer in the darkness, and the cave fell silent again.

Although the afterglow of the sun has not yet dissipated, the streets of Thor's city have long been dyed a warm orange by the lights of each house. At the end of the street, the town's namesake mountain range a little outside the city, the inn called "The Last Home" is also the center of the city's popularity, and the atmosphere there does not subside until at least one o'clock in the morning, and on festivals or celebrations, the hustle and bustle lasts until two or three o'clock or even all night.

The Goblinsette quietly opened the door of the inn just as the attention of the people was drawn to the dinner on the table and the busty hostesses.

On the continent of Vesta, the days when the dark forces were ravaging have long been forgotten by the forgetful humanity. Occasionally, after dinner, gray-haired old men would boredly repeat stories about skeleton knights or necromancers that had been passed down from their ancestors to their children and grandchildren. But the younger generations, who are busy pursuing their own lives, never take these things seriously. Stories are just stories, that's all. What's more, there is also the protection of the powerful Holy Knights nearby, and their encirclement and suppression of those evil creatures a few years ago, although at the cost of the life of the captain at that time, finally returned triumphantly, right?

After all, the war of a few years ago had not affected the human or other good races, but the people of the city believed that they had every right to make up for the losses they had suffered from the trade with the stupid races that were already in the evil camp. This is why several races, including goblins or dark dwarves, remain unpopular with elves or centaurs, but are able to roam freely in human towns.

In fact, as one might think, goblins do have enough capital to be considered a stupid race, as evidenced by their sluggish movements and slow reactions, and Seth, who fully demonstrates the racial characteristics of goblins in both his movements and reactions, is the first-class specimen material. Normal humans, or most other races, could have done it in two days, and the journey from dungeon to city was a three-day run through the mountains before he barely made it to Thor City at sunset, only to miss the opening hours of the grocery store that sold lamp oil.

Realizing that he had to stay in the city for an extra night in order to procure the lamp oil requested by the Dungeon Master and Demon Amtils, the Goblin decided to go on another mission into the city first: to find Archmage Aqiman, who had taken off the demon's magic earrings and arrived in the city.

Animtil, the demon Amtils, who was angry and worried about the magic earrings that no longer belonged to him, did indeed give orders to the goblins by thinking that the archmage should be selling his earrings in the magic shop Pù in Thor. Although it was true that the archmage was busy haggling with the owner of the magic shop pù at the time, the demon completely ignored the fact that the goblins could not have the magic of long-distance movement like him or Aqiman, nor could they have the skeleton Mataxis like the Dark Knight, so it was absolutely impossible for the goblins to find the archmage in the city's magic shop pù when they arrived in Thor after a three-day long journey.

Luckily, pù, the magic shop that had been open for a long time to cater to the preferences of the mages of the various factions, had not finished the day when the goblins stumbled through the door. The kind shopkeeper even provided the goblin with the whereabouts of Archmage Aqiman:

"The black-robed mage who killed a thousand swords, this time only needs to be until the final return to the hotel. You can definitely find his evil figure. May Foyth drive away all his gambling fortune and crush him to death with the gold he swindled from me with that bastard's illusion!"

Although he was completely unable to grasp the meaning of the name of the god of magic in the mouth of the shopkeeper. Seth drove his tired feet to the door of the final home, where he was trying his best to interpret the meaning of the word, and the moment he lifted the curtain, he saw Archmage Aqiman.

The crumpled black robe was curled up and tossed on the oil-soaked tabletop, and the Trist Staff lay quietly on the black robe with its soft glow, while the owner of the black robe and staff stared intently at the two playing cards in their hands.

With the exception of the group that was fighting at the table, almost all of the people in the hotel noticed the goblins outside the door and reacted almost the same: ignore them.

Unlike the Goblin Race, who bring beautiful flowers and tough wooden utensils every time they enter the city, the goods they carry are not as valuable as the elaborate jewelry or stone carvings brought by the Dark Dwarves, and even most of the goblins' brains are still stuck in the barter era. Merchants who can't make a good profit from the goblins are naturally reluctant to pay attention to these stupid little creatures, except for the innkeeper. Finally, the owner of the inn insists on a service attitude that no matter what race or position, the guest is the guest. Greet almost every guest with the sound of coins clattering in their pockets, and goblins who can be served with a few inferior drinks and pay the standard price on the menu.

Tonight, however, the innkeeper paid no heed to the dusty goblin who had just walked through the door, for the archmage who had spent the last three days on the wine table of the inn, and who had generously thrown out a handful of copper coins every day for the consumption of the hostesses, was a guest who needed more hospitality. So when Seth walked towards Akiman, who was addicted to Blackjack's game, and quietly tugged at the mage's clothes, the innkeeper couldn't help but feel a little strange: he had no idea that the ragged goblin would be a mage's friend or something like that.

The mage, who had just thrown the playing cards in his hand onto the table and swept a pile of silver coins into his pocket, was not at all surprised, as if he had expected Seth to come here to look for him. Archman paid no attention to the cries of the goblins as they tried to break through the loud noise of the hotel. He continued his game until the goblin's hoarse throat was almost completely unable to make a sound. Only then did he tell the waitress beside him to prepare a meal and send it to his room upstairs in a slightly interested voice. Then the archmage walked to the staircase on his own, leaving Seth, who was already a little languished, to tidy up the mage's black robe and Trist staff in the eyes of everyone, and then slowly followed the mage's footsteps to the upstairs room.

Goblins who serve as handymen are not uncommon, but goblins who dare to touch a mage's staff are enough to become the center of attention for ordinary people, after all, no one knows if any of them have magic such as transfiguration or teleportation attached to them. And the guests who eventually returned to the inn would not know that the staff that the goblin now held in his hand looked like a twisted wooden stick was the Trist staff, and it was impossible for this staff to have these low-level magic attached to it, and there was no need to attach any magic to it, and not too many mages dared to reach for it.

Trist's staff is not one of those orthodox, systematically documented staffs on the Archmage's Tower, nor is it an object that those staff can compare. In the eyes of many mages, the Staff of Trist is as seductive and charming as the staff of a legendary Pharises, but also extremely dangerous and evil. The Staff of Trist is the legendary Staff that can control the soul of almost any living being.

The appearance of the Trist staff resembles a twisted wooden stick, and the tip of the stick seems to have been cut down to form the shape of a skeleton, and the two eyes of this skeleton are inlaid with red and blue gems. When he first found the staff from beneath the ruins of the legendary Gosa's dungeon, Aqiman did cast all sorts of touch-proof spells on it, but it wasn't long before he discovered that doing so was nothing more than a superfluous waste of his own mana: almost no normal mage would dare to approach the rumored staff capable of draining the souls of living beings.

And the archmage who dares to hold this staff in his hands, whether in his own eyes or in the eyes of others. None of them are a normal mage. The winter of about nine years ago. At that time, he was still considered by his teachers to be a talented apprentice mage. For the first time in my hometown, I saw those legendary evil creatures with my own eyes.

Aqiman's hometown is a small village, and near the village, behind the cemetery is a large black forest. Legend has it that the Black Forest has traces of the Holy Knights' struggle against the dark forces more than 200 years ago, but no one has ever been able to go to the depths of this Black Forest, intentionally or unintentionally, and people always unconsciously go back to the edge of the village, in front of the gate of the cemetery.

Aqiman, who is learning all kinds of elementary magic in the Tower of the Archmage, happens to be on vacation. On the evening of his return home, Aqiman went to the cemetery to pay respects to his father, who had died of illness a few years earlier. That night, the usually bright moon was quietly veiled in pitch black for some reason, and Aqiman, who had not yet found his wand, relied on a little magical light in his hand. While complaining about the unsympathetic cold wind, he brushed the snow from the stone monument in the cemetery, praying that he would not forget the location of his father's grave in just a few years after he left.

However, he soon realized that something was wrong. Usually there are more or less ghosts hovering in places like cemeteries. Whether it's nostalgia for the warmth of the world, or waiting for one's loved ones, ghosts are always a part of the cemetery that is never missing, but surprisingly, tonight Aqiman didn't feel a trace of the supernatural aura at all. Originally expecting to see his father's ghost, Aqiman was so disappointed that he asked several teachers on the Archmage's Tower about how to see the ghost and communicate with it before returning to his hometown for a vacation.

"As the saying goes, there is no such thing as a blessing!" said Aqiman, lamenting at the tombstone of his father, who had once been an elite knight of the Holy Order, and when he first returned home after a few years of hard work in the Tower of the Archmage, his only brother had left the family to train for the Holy Order to become a true knight, so that the two brothers, whom they hadn't seen for years, missed a chance to get together.

Suddenly, the wind around suddenly intensified. The wind tore the leaves on the ground. The swaying shadows of the trees seemed to announce that something strange was about to happen in front of young Aqiman. Hurriedly trying to recite one or two talisman spells, it was as if an invisible hand had grabbed his throat and could not make a sound: his father's tombstone had fallen to the ground right in front of his eyes. Then, the dirt on the ground slowly arched and cracked as if pushed by some force, and only skeleton arms stretched out from the cracks in the darkness.

At that moment, Aqiman had completely fallen into a state of numbness. He stood aside and watched as his father's skeleton slowly crawled out of the grave, mounted a skeleton horse from which he didn't know where it came from, and galloped away in the direction of the Black Forest.

The next day, the terrified villagers found the unconscious Aqiman in the cemetery, which had been dug up by an unknown force and all the bones inside had disappeared. When Aqiman woke up, he did not give any explanation for what he had seen and heard the previous night, but did not hesitate to leave the village immediately and never returned. Witnessing the resurgence of the necromancy, Aqiman was shocked by this otherworldly power and silently began to study necromantic magic, and at the same time, an unknown wish began to brew in his heart......

A few days later, the remnants of the Gosaac dungeon were annihilated.

And Aqiman, who has returned to the Tower of the Archmage, did not investigate the true identity of the dark knight who killed the head of the Holy Knights, but just casually inquired about his brother's condition. After receiving the news that his brother was safe and sound, Aqiman returned to studying necromancy and related materials until he was banished from the Archmage's Tower after practicing several forbidden dark magics in a row.

The summer breeze gently passed through the archmage's room, bringing with it the scent of oak trees. Silently leaning against the ledge, Aqiman couldn't help but think of the battle he had fought in the Black Forest with the necromancer who had summoned his father's bones. As a result of that battle, Akiman obtained the legendary and extremely evil Triste Staff, and lost all hope of returning to the Tower of the Archmage, and even the most enlightened teacher was reluctant to accept a student who was well-versed in necromantic magic.

Turning his head to look at the goblins behind him who were gobbling up carefree, the archmage inadvertently revealed a look of tranquility.

Just like the night of the resurrection of the dead, the sky was full of snow and wind, and the archmage Aqiman, who had no idea where he was going, was leaning against the fire lit by his magic to keep warm. The glowing light of the fire attracted the little goblins flying in the forest, but none of them dared to raise the courage to approach the archmage's side, maybe this is the price of learning necromantic magic, Aqiman sighed secretly.

The snow around him was knee-high, but suddenly a green creature appeared in front of Aqiman. Holding a pile of soaked branches, the goblin thought there was a traveler trapped in the snowstorm and ran over to invite the mage to take refuge in a nearby cave.

Thinking of this, Aqiman could no longer hide the smile in his heart, what a bad night it was.

As a result of igniting the soaked firewood in the cave, the demons, goblins, and mage wolves in the cave were choked by bursts of dark smoke, and the side effect was that the red-skinned demons and green-skinned goblins were reluctant to change into black appearances, of course, the dark knight Salas and the black-robed mages who were originally black would not mind, and what made them complain loudly was nothing more than the snow melted by the heat around them.

That night, Aqiman agreed to join the dungeons of the demon Amtils.

The goblin, who had served as he ate and conveyed the notice of the meeting to the Archmage, finally had his fill and lay down under the table, snoring in satisfaction, and the Archmage was about to go to bed.

Tomorrow is a new day, is it coming to an end of the lazy days?Then take Set back with you, and really start building our dungeon, and the necromancy should be in full force!" The archmage imagined as he gently blew out the light on the table that condensed the soft breath...... (To be continued......)