Ark Undead

The black-clad figure spoke with a strange sense of pity.

It was as if he could sense what the Fire Maiden was thinking and understand the torment she was enduring.

"You know yourself, right? We came to you and chose you because of this."

“If you did not belong to us and were not rightfully the Mother of the Abyss, why would I have gone to such lengths to stay here and persuade you?”

He stood up and went to the Fire-Binding Woman.

"The age of fire has ended; it is the dregs in the sands of time, an illusion that can never be retrieved."

"However, for you, it is a shackle, binding you to a pointless mission."

"The duties given by the dead gods are not the path you choose. People are born and die, and therefore they are bound to have their own duties."

The shadowy figure reached out to the Fire Maiden, attempting to touch her body while speaking in a highly seductive tone.

"Look, you are now bound by the mission of a god who has long since died. Even after millions of years, you have still trapped yourself in this tiny place."

"Your world should be much wider. Do not fear the darkness, for it is a part of you. Embrace the shadows within and know your mission now."

Just as his hand was about to touch the Fire Mage, a spark of fire suddenly appeared from his fingertips.

In fear and panic, the figure shrouded in darkness took several steps back.

A twisted shadow writhed around him, completely enveloping the firelight at his fingertips.

Several seconds later, the flames gradually disappeared in the darkness, leaving only a lingering pain on the fingertips.

"I know that what you want is nothing more than what belongs to him."

The Fire Maiden raised her head, her eyes completely obscured by the blindfold on her head.

The white strands of hair on her head were also slightly dry.

But her tone remained calm and composed.

"Do you remember how greedy and mad you were when you devoured the power that belonged to him?"

"No, no, no, you need to understand a basic concept: that doesn't belong to him!"

The dark figure seemed to be barely able to maintain its shape under the scorching heat of the fire.

Even the tone of his voice seemed to suppress anger and resentment, and his voice unconsciously became sharp.

"This belongs to me! It's mine! It's mine!"

In an instant, shadows and darkness swayed and rose along the edge of the fireless sacrificial site, threatening to obscure everything.

The surging darkness also gradually climbed upwards along the hem of the Fire-Tethering Maiden's skirt.

But after climbing only a few centimeters, he was stopped there by an invisible force.

The swaying, mysterious light undulated irregularly at the hem of the skirt, attempting to break through resistance, reach the woman's heart, and engulf her.

The Fire Maiden still lowered her eyes slightly, as if looking at the crawling darkness on the ground with pity, and then she closed her eyes slightly.

After a brief period of agitation, the dark figure gradually calmed down and quieted down.

He reached out, straightened his shattered brain, and slowly stuffed the shattered parts back into the head-shaped object.

"Very good, very good. You still retain a considerable amount of strength within you. Is this the source of your confidence that has kept you going until now?"

He tried to make his words more polite and less blunt.

But the greed in his tone was as conspicuous as a black stain in clear water.

"It's okay, it's okay. I can be patient."

As if he were convincing himself, several different tones suddenly appeared in his voice, only to merge into one in the last two words.

"You are the Mother of the Abyss, and you will eventually know your duty."

"When you awaken, you will regret how much of your power you have wasted."

His voice gradually lowered, lingering in the woman's ear as he whispered softly.

How much longer can you hold on?

His tone gradually calmed down, carrying a hint of seduction and mockery.

"I look forward to seeing you suddenly realize the truth in the abyss."

The Fire Maiden simply rested her hands on her legs, sitting demurely.

And right beneath her hands, a badge was held in her palm.

She gripped the badge tightly, unconsciously tightening her grip as if trying to embed it into her flesh.

Beyond the sacrificial site lies an endless expanse of yellow sand and an ocean composed of black slime.

This is a scene manifested by sacred relics, and also the eternal battlefield for the heroic spirits who reside here.

Did I just feel the ground shake?

The armored knight sheathed his sword and shield, and glanced back at the Firelink Shrine standing silently in the boundless yellow sand.

Right beside him, another warrior smashed a hammer into an unidentified object made of black slime, shattering its hard shell before putting away his hammer.

"Yes, you're not mistaken, I felt it too. The ground shook; that guy inside must be angry again."

The warrior's left hand was already enveloped by the surging darkness, but it stopped at his forearm, unable to go any further.

The knight glanced at the warrior's arm and asked, seemingly casually.

"How much longer?"

"I can hold on until you are executed."

"Tsk, so stubborn."

The knight shook his head; he couldn't be bothered arguing with the fool beside him. He turned around and sat down against another corpse that hadn't yet disappeared.

He let out a comfortable sigh and said softly.

"If you can't hold on any longer, remember to tell me."

The warrior, just like the knight, slammed his warhammer into the ground and sat down next to the corpse.

"You too."

Then, the two fell silent again.

And all around them were many warriors like them.

They were either holding staffs or greatswords.

Or use your own fists to kill the monsters that are trying to reach the sacrificial site on their way.

On the other side of the horizon, countless writhing shadows are gradually moving forward along the swirling yellow sand.

Like a tide slowed down countless times, it counts down to the end of the world.

This is the world within the sacred object, a world where the concepts of time and space have been lost.

"Tell me more about your descendant."

The knight spoke in a low voice, took out a small knife from his waist, and gently carved a picture on his trophy armor.

"That's right, you were the one who qualified for the competition but got rejected after going out."

"I've told you this dozens of times, don't you ever get tired of hearing it?"

The warrior, skilled with a heavy hammer, removed his helmet, and his appearance bore a striking resemblance to Morton.

The knight rolled his eyes.

"Parishur, don't think I don't know, you can't wait to nag me about this all the time. So what if you have a good descendant? What's the big deal? You believe me or not, the next Undying Arena will be challenged by my son!"

"Then we'll talk about it when your descendants arrive."

The heavy hammer warrior known as Parishur unconsciously smiled.

"At least, he smashed my head with a hammer. Do you know what that means? It means that kid is stronger than me, fucking stronger than me."

Parishur stretched.

"It's cool."

The knight could only click his tongue and turn his head away in annoyance.

He really couldn't do anything about that old guy.

But there was no one else to talk to.

They came with twelve companions. Ten of them fell in the endless battle.

Only the two of them remained, struggling on.

Is this a form of confinement? The knight doesn't think so.

It was his honor to be reawakened in the sacred relic and participate in this holy battle, rather than to die meaninglessly on his sickbed.

Moreover, this was their own choice. The sacred object did not force them.

Even though he had been fighting for over a hundred years.

Now, the warrior beside him had also been wounded in the arm by those guys in this endless battle. If it weren't for the power of the sacred object suppressing it, he would probably be facing a monster that had lost its mind.

They had made a pact to die together here. Therefore, they would not die in an undignified manner.

When the blackness spread to his neck, that was when his companion's longsword pierced his body.

This was an agreement between them.

If anyone truly loses their mind, that's when they should leave.

To sleep eternally on this eternal battlefield is perhaps a kind of happiness.

The knight lowered his head as his dagger etched a portrait on his armor—a lovely little girl with a sweet smile.

He still remembers the way his little granddaughter cried, and how he smiled happily at her sobs before falling into a deep sleep and never waking up again.

"Parishur, you old codger, don't leave us too soon."

"uh-huh."

The soldier placed his hands on the back of his neck, gazed at the dark sky, and responded softly.