Ark Undead

But how can people who have witnessed the passing of heroes allow their evil deeds to continue?

Blood stained the earth, and the connections between cities were ruthlessly severed.

In this war belonging to humankind, civilization, like harvested wheat, has returned to its most primitive form.

Books are swallowed by the ignorant, and knowledge is obscured by the foolish.

Although humanity ultimately won the war, they still paid a heavy price.

Meanwhile, malice from beyond the world still casts its gaze, yearning for their lives.

The darkness lurking in this land is waiting for its chance to strike.

They will come to settle accounts when the high walls fall.

The howls and annoying laughter in his ears gradually faded away, and the undead opened his eyes once more.

This time, control over his body finally returned to him.

The immortal rose from the ground and raised his head.

This is an altar built to resemble the central part of the fire-lighting ritual site.

Unlike traditional altars, the altars here are arranged in tiers that descend downwards.

Surrounding the central royal artifact, the steps seem to have become steps where one can sit down and rest.

In this dark, secret chamber, the undead heard only the cracking sound of wood being burned and sparks flying.

The undead took its first steps, moving through the darkness toward the only source of light.

He walked down the steps.

Familiar height, familiar distance.

Just like he had once walked into the fire-lighting ritual site where he had met her.

Same steps, same distance.

The silent undead came to the royal artifact that should have been used to light a bonfire.

If it were in that ancient era, within the royal artifacts, there should be a bonfire made of the remains of the undead and a spiral sword.

The maids who serve the hero should sit on the steps.

But the Undead did not see a campfire, nor did they see any familiar figures.

The broken fragments lay silently within the royal artifact, shimmering with a crimson glow as if breathing.

It is here to await its master, to await its destined hero.

Beneath that royal artifact, a pure white rune gradually emerged from the darkness, emitting light.

Right at the feet of the immortal, a kind call rang out to him.

After a long silence, the nameless hero reached out his hand.

-

The profound darkness that stretches to the horizon is a scene no one can forget.

In that deep, mysterious place that connects heaven and earth, the persuaders peeked out and whispered to the still-resisting spirits.

The persuaders from the abyss attempted to assimilate these heroic spirits who bore the mission of guarding the sacrificial site, using theories that operated above the abyss.

Some ethereal beings, resembling the gnarled roots of an old tree, emerged from the muddy ground, wielding large swords, and launched an attack on the still-resisting heroic spirits.

This is a glimpse into the war, and a continuation of the previous one.

Unknown heroes are devoured by evil gods in the wilderness, while their true forms are blocked by the world's barrier, unable to advance even half a step further.

Now, they've come back with a vengeance, aiming to open a breach in a corner of the world.

They used this tiny crack as the beginning of their return to the world.

The longsword pierced through the cracks in the tree roots, and the ignited sparks tore the core of the abyss apart.

The knight leaped off the massive Harland Knight, but before he could even admire the spectacular sight of the knight's body disintegrating, he was suddenly attacked by insects swarming from the other side.

A burst of red light erupted, and the knight's sword shone with a crimson glow. The instantaneous explosion shattered the hard shell, revealing the soft core. As the sword pierced through, even viscous liquid spurted out.

Amidst piercing screams, the corpse slowly turned to ashes, falling back into the muddy ground.

They have been fighting for many years, and it is unknown how much longer this battle will continue.

However, this time the scale is the largest they have ever seen.

The pervasive darkness extinguished any desire for victory. Just witnessing such oppression made it impossible to believe one could survive to the end.

"Old man!"

The knight paused for a moment, then heard a familiar voice.

He had just turned around when he saw insects rushing towards him, about to swarm and cling to his body.

Then came a loud, impactful explosion.

The heavy hammer struck the insect's carapace, smashing the lobbyist insect's body to pieces, the fragments wriggling back to the earth.

"You're distracted."

Parishur dragged his broken body forward, took another step from behind the knight, grabbed the arm of the Abyss Knight who was attacking from the side, and stepped on the knight's knee.

With a sudden burst of force from his left hand, he tore the knight's body in two and then casually tossed it onto the ground.

"Feel sorry."

The knight lowered his eyes slightly, gripped his sword and shield tightly, turned around, and faced the darkness that blotted out the sky once more.

"Parishur, do you think we can win?"

"You idiot, what time is it, and you're still thinking about winning?"

The heavily armored heroic spirit named Parishur shouted.

"Have you forgotten our oath? Regardless of whether we have a chance of winning this war, we have no choice but to fight, no choice but to fill the void with our blood and flesh."

"Because this is a battle for justice, a battle against oppression, a battle to secure a future for future generations! Whether we see the light or not, we must use our own hands to tear through this darkness!"

Parishur lifted his heavy hammer from the ground and took the blow from the frontal slash of the Knight Harland.

The force of the blow was immense, and Parishur's feet sank into the muddy ground.

"Die!"

However, the next moment, the hammer, which had changed direction, struck the back of the blade, deflecting the blade's direction.

Then, with a single blow, he completely shattered the seemingly solid tree root, also crushing the abyss core hidden within it.

The knight also used the shield on his arm to block the attack from the side, buying Parishul some time.

"That's right, you're right."

The knight regained his composure, nodded, and the fear in his heart brought him back to his senses.

"This is not the time to worry about that. This is our battlefield of glory."

So the two of them, shoulder to shoulder, took another step forward and faced the surging tide of the abyss head-on.

They were once the twelve heroes of Minos, revered by all, and valiant warriors who saved Minos' future.

Now, favored by the sacred relic, they have signed a pact in the Arena of the Undying, vowing to fight against the malice of the world beyond in exchange for immortality.

This is not a war that only ancient heroes can participate in; it is also a stage for these warriors of the new world to contribute their remaining strength.

Like these two heroes.

Many other heroic spirits stood shoulder to shoulder, using their swords and shields to buy time for the sacrificial site behind them.

Amidst the endless yellow sands, the heroic spirits erected the last wall, blocking the darkness that stretched across the sky.

Every second, weapons pierce the bodies of abyssal monsters. Soldiers from the abyss also plunge their glowing red hands into the chests of heroic spirits, tearing out their hearts.

Everyone knows that this war has no end.

Or perhaps, when the last one of them falls, that will be the end.

What they need to do is to keep delaying the end date.

Before the abyss engulfs everything, they are the last light in this world.

However, even heroic spirits, with the power granted by sacred artifacts, were unable to protect themselves in this war.

Whenever a heroic spirit dies on the front line, the other heroic spirits have to take a step back to tighten the front line.

Even more so, there are heroic spirits corrupted by the abyss, who, while smashing the enemies rushing towards them, struggle with their own inner demons.

They were surrounded by whispers from the abyss, meant to break down their defenses and turn them into believers in the abyss.

Therefore, in the last moment while one's consciousness is still clear.

"Keep it up, old man."

The knight turned around, called to his warrior, and picked up the Abyss Blade that had fallen to the ground.

"Parishur, you want it?!"

"I can't take it anymore."

The heavy hammer warrior named Parishur has lost one of his arms, and his other arm is also covered with marks of the abyss.

"Before I become your enemy, I will secure a dignified end for myself."

Parishur's helmet was also smashed in half, and a warm smile stretched across his grotesque face atop his mangled skull.

"Good night."

laugh.

The knight's pupils suddenly contracted.

Before his eyes, the warrior who had been walking alongside him coughed up scarlet blood.

His body collapsed limply onto the mud.

The insects that surged from the abyss eagerly bared their greedy mouthparts at the hero's body.

These despicable people seek nourishment from noble heroes.