Ark Undead

That was the constraint she set for herself.

As a window into the deep erosion, the Painter of the World is itself a huge source of pollution.

If she cannot suppress her raging sanity, then these iron chains and hooks will be the last barrier to limit her rampage.

Da...da...da

The half-dragon girl opened her eyes, trying to see who it was.

But the darkness beyond that world had long since completely eroded her eyes; there was nothing but darkness.

But the scorching heat of the flames told her the answer.

"Ah...it's you."

"Lord Ashes."

The half-dragon woman's lips curled into a smile, and a jet-black liquid flowed down from the corner of her mouth, dripping onto the ground and continuing to permeate the painted world that had once been the home of the Forsaken.

"..."

The Undead took a deep breath, suppressing his rage, and spoke in a gentle tone he had never used before.

Even though this gentleness was so stiff.

"Um...Miss, it's me."

when!

The iron locks and hooks embedded in her body gradually broke apart, revealing flesh and blood stained purplish-black. Purplish-black crystals grew wildly on her exposed skin, and silt and muddy water gushed out from her body.

"If it's you... then I'm relieved."

when!when!when!

The locks and hooks kept breaking apart and crashing against the wall.

The half-dragon girl's last restraints also crumbled amidst the madness and darkness.

Her body swelled rapidly, and her last shred of reason gradually disappeared.

She had waited far too long, enduring this pain, suppressing the filth within her body alongside the crows outside.

Now, they have finally found their final release.

"Lord Ashes... I beg you, ignite the flames..."

As the last shred of reason vanished, filth enveloped the Painter, using her as an interface to completely unleash its erosion of the world of painting!

The malice is gleefully pouring into this former paradise. It smells the fragrance of the world's ruins and wants to seize the legacy of generations past!

But what it didn't expect was that even ordinary people could one day perform a miracle.

Countless inhabitants of the world of painting, along with the will of the painter himself, bled to death, shutting him out.

It was this resistance from the people, this will that had suppressed the abyss for thousands of years, that coalesced and became a miracle.

Through boundless wind and snow, an unsung hero ascended the sacred mountain.

He will set fire to burn away all the filth.

And that's exactly what he did.

"it is good."

The undead moved its lips and uttered the last syllable.

Then, the flames engulfed everything.

It was originally a cluster of sparks, but the moment it touched the abyss, it used the mud that had forcibly squeezed into the painting as fuel to ignite a raging fire!

Crimson and gold patterns spread across the armor!

Scorching flames burned on the greatsword!

The flame that purifies everything will eventually ignite the darkness.

The ruler of the flames raised his head and looked at the enormous monster that had completely turned into black sludge.

He raised the greatsword in his hand.

Then the scorching flames dispelled the cold wind and illuminated the entire dark room.

"Roar!! Waaaaah..."

The monster roared and howled, trying to influence everything around it with its cries and to twist people's will with its foul sounds!

But it was facing no one else.

The nameless hero lifted his foot and walked toward the monster.

"Waaaaah!!"

Howling in agony, this dark, monstrous form, a manifestation of rampaged humanity, raised its writhing, jet-black claws.

The dripping filth and slime represent its threat; once you get tainted, there is no hope of redemption.

The claws fell from the sky, smashing deep dents into the ceiling of the dark room, and then crashed down on the only source of light!

So he raised the greatsword in his hand.

The firelight flashed by in an instant.

A blazing ring of flames swept across the area, instantly incinerating the claws that came before him!

The pain of the beginning of the generation was clearly reflected in himself, and the will hidden behind the surging darkness finally focused its attention here.

The moment these two auras made contact, the malice that roamed beyond the world immediately let out a greedy howl.

"Waaaaah!!"

They were enemies from the start.

Those who wish to devour the flames must be prepared to become firewood.

Now, the raging flames are no longer as weak as they once were.

No one could stop his rage.

He wanted to ignite the dark night and dispel the fog for the souls lost in the wind and snow!

He wants to burn away the surging filth and light a bright lamp for the deceased!

The molten iron rises and gathers, transforming into a crown of steel flames, crowning the ruler of the flames!

The evildoers of the abyss raised their arms to sweep everything away!

The crowned one who carries the torch raises his greatsword, ready to burn everything to ashes!

boom!

Amidst the violent crash, flames erupted atop the sacred mountain.

It was as if giants were shaking the mountains, causing the earth to tremble and boulders to fly everywhere.

They will not stop until one side falls and becomes food for the other.

This is a grudge etched in one's will, one that will never be forgotten, even if one loses their memory!

In the end, the mountains all fell silent, leaving only the ever-burning flame.

The silent victor slung the greatsword over his back, stepped through the flames, and walked to the ground on the other side.

There, a petite figure lay helplessly on the ground.

Tap...tap...tap...

She raised her eyes, the fireworks dispelling the mist, washing away the filth from her eyes, and allowing her to see the burning flames.

"Ah...it's fire..."

The half-dragon girl was picked up by the undead and curled up in his arms.

"Lord Ashes..."

The light emanating from her toes transformed her body into sparkling stars.

"You saw... the crow people, didn't you?"

"Um..."

"Are they... alright? Did they obey... and leave the painting?"

The immortal opened its mouth, but couldn't make a sound for a long time.

Only after a long silence did he manage to squeeze out a single word from his parched throat.

"Have."

"Really...that's great..."

The painter's vision was gradually covered by light.

But in that light, she vaguely saw a tall figure from behind.

"Grandpa Gale..."

The sparks burned away her body and cleansed her soul, which had been tainted by filth.

Gazing at the beautiful illusion, the half-dragon girl raised a hand and reached out to the false phantom, trying to grab the person.

His red headscarf fluttered in the wind as he stretched out his hand, seemingly saying something.

I've been waiting for you for so long.

"I drew it... Grandpa Gale..."

The light scattered, and the weight in the immortal's hand vanished.

The few remaining souls floated in the air, and before they had completely dissipated, they were drawn towards the Undead by the initial flames.

That profound soul merged into the undead's chest, becoming one with the flames of the beginning of the world.

Souls and flames rejoiced, as if relatives were reunited after millions of years.

The immortal pressed his hand to his chest.

Surely, there must be a warm home within those bright flames?