Ark Undead

In another match, a Minoan hero wielding a greatsword chose Skadi.

What's striking is that both of these greatsword users are also incredibly powerful and capable.

Skadi's swordsmanship also left a very impressive impression on the audience.

Her swordsmanship was agile and graceful, yet also skillful and concise.

The Sarkaz lost the match, but Skadi unsurprisingly won.

Although these two matches were not as exciting as the previous match between Melanie and Morton, they were still unforgettable.

The best thing about the Undying Arena is that the warriors here don't have to worry about life-or-death grudges and can fully enjoy the battle.

Skadi is also taking a rare gamble, not worrying about bleeding on land.

Watching Bloodthorn was so exciting, I wanted to throw Skadi off the stage and rush up to fight her myself.

However, the sixteen heroes have now completed five battles, and the remaining heroes are on high alert, ready to fight at any time.

Just after Skadi left the Initial Furnace, another Heroic Spirit appeared on the field.

When this heroic spirit appeared, some viewers were stunned for a second before bursting into laughter.

"Who...who is this heroic spirit?"

"No... Pfft... Sorry. But I've never seen such a tall hat before, and it's standing upright. The more I look at it, the more it looks like a roadblock."

"He's carrying a greatsword, isn't that a big compliment that will hinder his actions?"

"Is it another greatsword duel? I just watched a greatsword duel, is this another one?"

"Although it's very exciting, I'm starting to feel a bit tired of it?"

The audience was excitedly discussing, but the heroic spirit had already walked to the campfire and stretched out his hand hidden under his cloak.

It was only then that the audience noticed that the heroic spirit was holding a greatsword in his right hand, while his left hand held a strangely shaped dagger.

His face was obscured by a visor attached to his helmet, and only a pair of calm, still eyes could be barely seen in the shadows.

And after the campfire was lit, the flames swept across the area.

People were then shocked to discover that the most anticipated hero in this immortal competition had finally been chosen.

"This is...this is...that war knight's room?!"

"Is it finally the War Knights' turn?!"

People's emotions were instantly ignited.

It goes without saying how popular the War Knights are.

And just as the audience was waiting for the Knights to receive a response and go onto the field.

But then they saw the door to the knights' rest room being pushed open by a hand.

The knight, clad in armor, walked straight out of the lounge.

Instead of immediately answering the call of the flames, he went to the door of another hero's lounge.

Amidst the priests' somewhat panicked and puzzled gazes, the undead pushed open the room door.

Bloodthorn looked at the Undead with a puzzled expression, wondering what he was doing there.

The Undead spoke, and Bloodthorn had never heard him speak to him in such a solemn tone.

The immortal reached out his hand.

"Lend me a short sword."

369. Wolf Blood Ten Thousand

(The suggested background music for this chapter... you all already know, so I won't say anything, just choose whatever you like.)

Without asking why, this was a rare request from an undead man, especially one involving the use of his weapon.

Bloodthorn decisively handed over a short knife from his waist.

The Undead took the dagger, and Bloodthorn said...

"You know him, don't you?"

The Undead looked up at the Bloodthorn.

At this moment, Bloodthorn's eyes were fixed on the Undead, devoid of their usual mockery and cynicism.

He said it seriously.

"I can sense how much importance you place on this battle, and I'm really looking forward to seeing a great fight."

This was an emotion the Undead had never experienced before; Bloodthorn could sense a mixture of caution and murderous intent in his words.

This shows that the Undead were truly aroused in their fighting spirit.

The Undead paused for a moment, then nodded at the Bloodthorn in front of him.

"No, I won't let you down."

...

The undead opened his eyes to an almost gloomy sky and a black sun just like in his memory.

He could smell the burning smell in the air, as well as the stench of blood buried beneath the ashes.

The Undead took a deep breath, and his body seemed to come alive, every inch of his skin pulsating and letting out joyful shouts.

That familiar taste, that familiar feeling...

The undead who entered the altar felt as if they had returned to their homeland.

This sense of familiarity, existing in his memory, made him linger.

As the undead entered the altar, the spectators outside cheered.

They were looking forward to this match for no other reason than that it was about the Undead, the War Knights of Kazimierz.

His victories are legendary and cannot be replicated, and every match he plays is a feast for the eyes.

The more people paid attention to his matches, the more excited they became to discover that this warrior seemed immune to defeat, never showing any signs of weakness in a single game.

He is the embodiment of invincibility, the word "battle" itself, an undefeated being.

Turning his gaze away from the sky, the Undead looked at the warrior who had been waiting for him for a long time.

The soldier's attire was just as he remembered.

A sharp, tall hat, a weathered greatsword.

The only difference was that this time his armor and cloak were intact, without any trace of the black abyss.

Neither of them spoke, seemingly lost in a brief recollection upon seeing each other's faces.

The Undead never imagined he would see them again, and the man before him was probably the captain who had put him through the trial years ago.

Although they were dressed identically, only the captain survived the mutual slaughter.

Where should we begin the story?

On his second journey, the Undead encountered many people.

Among them, the friends he met were memorable, as were the enemies who stood in his way.

Everyone's goal was pure: to keep clearing obstacles in their path towards the direction they wanted to go.

Therefore, there will always be people whose goals are contrary to your own.

The Undead have killed many people, and they have also taken the lives of many kings, bringing their firewood back to Firelink Shrine to open the path to the First Flame.

Before this, all he had heard was that the Lords of Cinder were unwilling to return to their thrones and pass on the Flame. As a result, the First Flame fell into decline and had to ring the great bell of the Firelink Shrine to summon the ashes of the ancient heroes to rise again and fight against the Lords of Cinder.

But the first King of Salvation he encountered was not quite what he had imagined.

When the Undead fought their way through the path littered with corpses and crow-men, emerging from the muddy swamp...

He was facing a trial, a trial for the undead.

He must light three bonfires before he can open the gates to the King of Cinder.

However, after he painstakingly fought his way through the wounded Gollums, what he saw was a tall, temple-like fortress.

The being he was about to hunt was not sitting on a throne, waiting for him as he had expected.

The Undead heard the sound of weapons clashing.

It was a dull thud that pierced through the thick walls and solid iron gate, reaching the ears of the Undead in a hazy way.

He didn't understand. Could it be that Ash had arrived here before him?

So he pushed open the door.

An unexpected situation.

What should have been a fortress like the throne of the King of Cinder lacked solemn and respectful inscriptions and instead resembled a tomb where something was buried.

In the very palace hall, dozens of corpses lay sprawled on the ground.

Countless greatswords were held in the hands of corpses dressed in the same attire.

The two who were still standing were confronting each other with the same weapon.

As the undead approached, one of them used a dagger in his left hand to block the other's attack, then pierced his heart with a sword and pinned him to the ground.

He pressed his knee against the other man's chest and slowly pulled the greatsword out of his right hand.

Hearing the door open behind him, the warrior, wearing a pointed hat and whose light armor had been completely corroded by an unknown black substance, turned around and silently looked at the undead.

The Farron Immortals were a group of heroes, but also a tragedy.

They inherited the will of ancient heroes, practiced special swordsmanship, shared wolf blood, and swore to watch over the warriors of the abyss.

During the era when Lothric was the dominant power of the Land of Fire, the Farron Undead Legion nearly wiped out several small nations after discovering traces of the Abyss.

They have zero tolerance for the Abyss. In their eyes, while continuing the duty of the First Flame is important, suppressing the Abyss is of paramount importance.

But those who gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into them.

Perhaps due to their years of fighting against the abyss, some members of the Undead Legion were inexplicably corrupted by the abyss and lost their minds.