Ark Undead

The doctor's smile didn't disappear; he continued speaking.

"The Fire Girl has mentioned your name to us more than once. Her feelings for you are... very complicated. But there is only one thing I can be sure of. If we were to describe these feelings in our own way, I think she must love you."

"like?"

The immortal tilted his head slightly, as if pondering what kind of emotion this was.

"What is it?"

"It is the pillar that has kept her going through this deep-sea era, and it is also the most fundamental reason that can awaken you."

"That's what the doctor said."

"However, the prophet also knows deeply that only by truly creating a haven where everyone can find peace can we fulfill our promise to you."

The Undead nodded slightly; that was indeed what he thought.

Now, as the guardian of the First Flame, his outward manifestation, he will not stop his journey until his mission is complete.

Perhaps that's what she thought too.

After all, she was the last old friend of all my memories since the Age of Fire.

Yes, old friend.

"Forget it, let's not talk about this anymore. I'll go find her after the war is over."

The immortal said earnestly to the doctor.

"Thank you."

“It was just a small favor, and we could never repay you and the Prophet for what you and the Prophet have done for us.”

During the conversation between the doctor and the immortal, he did not place himself in a lowly position.

For an immortal, this is the attitude he is most familiar with.

"However, I also have a gift for you."

The doctor then took a test tube from his chest and looked at the immortal.

"In the second phase of the Abyss Adaptability Experiment, we plan to take a different path from the first phase. If you want a comrade-in-arms... well, you might not need one."

The professor scratched his head.

"To put it another way, if you wanted a pet, or a companion, what type would you want?"

The Undead immediately thought of Artorias, one of the Four Horsemen of the King, and the great wolf guarding his tomb, his companion.

After hesitating for a moment, the Undead slowly spoke.

"A wolf? Or, a dog, perhaps."

"A wolf or a dog... I understand."

The doctor took out his pen and wrote a string of words on the sticker on the test tube.

"What about a name? Do you have a name you like?"

"do not know."

The Undead shook his head; he really had no ideas about that.

Not to mention his naming skills.

“I understand. I’ll take it then. I’ll also plan how to raise this child.”

The doctor casually scribbled some more words on the sticker on the test tube, then put it back in his pocket.

Then he raised his head and stood up straight in front of the undead.

"That's settled then. I don't know when we'll meet again. I sincerely hope you can win this war."

The immortal nodded slightly and said.

"I will do what I should do before the flames burn out."

"Then I'll say goodbye here. Farewell, Lord Ash."

The doctor whispered goodbye to the undead, then turned and left.

Then, the war began.

When the immortal's vision shifted from the white light to a visual image once more, he could feel the wounds constantly breaking open on his body.

Flames surged and lightning roared.

On this boundless battlefield, he fought alongside the soldiers beside him.

The sky and the earth were one, and darkness engulfed everything.

And in this boundless darkness, his body burned, repelling all the filth that approached him.

But his power ultimately lost its source: the Primordial Flame.

Every time flames are unleashed, every time a thunderbolt is hurled, the pointer of life is turned forward once more.

His mission was no longer to clear this path, but to fight here.

Until death.

The monsters that crawled out of the deep lair, the malice that roamed the sky, stared intently at the warriors following behind the undead.

They are the enemy, and also the nourishment of the abyss.

Fighting monsters is not the duty of the immortals.

He wanted to kill the gods, to try to free them from that endless void, and to burn them all with fire.

But he could sense that his body was getting weaker and weaker, so his attacks became more and more fierce and turbulent.

Evil gods surrounded him, their bodies composed of black mist and viscous liquid encircling the undead.

They wanted to tear this man, the one who had caused them so much suffering in the east and the north, to pieces.

They could smell the flames and savor the deliciousness of the burning food.

That is the power that creates the world, the foundation of generations.

Behind the cover of the firelight lay the spoils of their target.

The delicious nourishment composed of this person's consciousness and soul will surely contribute to the foundation of the deep-sea era.

Therefore, they also faced the attacks of the undead without any hesitation.

In the clouds, among the mountains.

Swords turned to molten iron in the scorching flames, and black meteorites falling from the sky tried to crush him completely.

But time and again he shattered the shackles in front of him with his own hands, seizing the rulers who peered out of the abyss, trying to get a share of the spoils.

Flames climbed their bodies, burning away the filth as fuel, and then teetered on the brink of collapse in the next attack, as if they had lost their color.

This is a protracted battle whose duration is immeasurable.

Countless creations from the abyss fell in the hands of the hero, transforming into raging flames.

His warriors, too, were corrupted by the abyss and became his enemies.

But he remained standing.

When he roars, people are filled with fear.

He tore through the black mist, and someone screamed.

Those corrupt individuals who thought they could sleep soundly by indulging in the filth of humanity had their skin torn off by his unparalleled power.

As a result, more and more so-called gods began to flee.

They were afraid; they couldn't understand.

Why doesn't he die? Why is the profound mystery he was so proud of burned to ashes in his presence?

But a rootless duckweed will eventually drown.

Without the First Flame as their foundation, the Undead are ultimately no match for the forces from beyond the world.

In this protracted struggle, his strength was being endlessly depleted.

Eventually, the flames lost their original color and were tainted by darkness.

He lost.

Therefore, the body was torn apart by the surging tide.

The body of a hero has become a prized possession fought over by the vile.

They wantonly seize the power from past generations, attempting to strengthen themselves in this way and obtain power comparable to fire.

Like clowns, this originally noble battlefield has been turned into a farcical stage by their vile deeds.

Next, all they need to do is awaken the malice lurking in the deep sea, turn it into a wave, and sweep across the world.

That would be enough to quell this unexpected disaster.

But at this point, everything unfolded in ways they hadn't anticipated.

People who once regarded them as insects have lit up the city in the sea.

They successfully completed this high-stakes gamble, at the cost of the hero's sacrifice.

Stones carved with divine script served as anchors of power, nailing the high walls belonging to the new generation to the earth.

In that instant, an invisible barrier was unfurled, shielding all forces not belonging to the earth from the outside.

The surging waves roared, yet they could not overstep or scale that invisible high wall.

The legacy left by heroes has become the means by which humanity survives.

Under his protection, the land returned to its former state.

The remaining flames transformed into a blazing sun, revolving around this invisible high wall.

And that flame, which belonged to the source of the world, disappeared in this surging light.

What followed was a battle belonging to humanity.

The remaining darkness attempts to recreate the glory of the deep sea on this land, guiding forces from beyond the world to descend.