Chapter 361: The Weak Fate (Part 1)

  The blue light of the teleportation vanished, and Inham appeared in the teleportation magic circle in Diya Valley.

  At first glance, he could hardly believe his eyes. The former paradise on earth, the otherworldly haven of Diya Valley, was now a desolate wasteland. The fragrant, grassy meadow had become dried-out sludge from the foul ditches of rotting earth. The tall trees with lush branches and leaves were all reduced to withered, strange-looking dead trees. The exotic flowers and rare herbs cultivated by countless Necromancers over hundreds of years, the scenic gardens, had all withered and rotted in this way. Only a few buildings stood there, isolated. Although the sky was clear and cloudless, the sunlight could not shine through at all. The valley was gloomy and oppressive, like a domain of death.

  A strange buzzing sound covered Diya Valley, echoing throughout the The Shadowspire Peaks. Spreading along with this sound was an overwhelmingly powerful aura, an aura that had extinguished all life in Diya Valley, an aura so thick that even sunlight could not penetrate it.

  This aura was not unfamiliar to Inham or to Diya Valley. It was the aura of the ancient artifact standing atop the Shadowspire, The Black Star. It was just that this aura was no longer as calm as it used to be, but instead surged violently like a tsunami. Diya Valley was the only dead spot in the The Shadowspire Peaks that Archibald had personally chosen, a place not covered by this aura. But now, the chaotic, surging aura had submerged even this sole dead spot.

  "I can't believe you still dare to come." A figure walked over silently from nearby, like a wandering ghost in this lifeless place.

  "Colin, what's going on?" Inham asked in alarm. The voices of the two Necromancers echoed in the empty valley, as lifeless as the buzzing sound.

  "Aren't you the one who should know better?" The Necromancer called Colin frowned at Inham. His expression was originally filled with anger and killing intent, but it finally turned into a deep sense of helplessness. He sighed. "Forget it. The Black Star has awakened. Besides us, there is nothing else alive in Diya Valley. It probably won't be long before we can't be considered living either..."

  Necromancers are the only living beings who can remain unaffected by the aura of The Black Star. Every Necromancer, upon entering Diya Valley, receives the brand of The Black Star, a brand that seals their fate.

  "Who pulled out The Black Star? Isn't the hilt still at The Radiant Citadel?"

  "You don't know?" Colin stared at Inham for a moment, then turned and walked away. "Come along, too. Both of our masters are at the summit."

  From a distance, atop the The Shadowspire Peaks that reached into the clouds, streams of black aura rolled and coiled like giant serpents. Inham quickly followed, heading towards them.

  At the summit, two old men stood in the turbulent black aura, silently gazing at The Black Star on the altar. They did not look back when Colin and Inham came up. The sword body of this Lich King artifact was still inserted into the altar, but its aura was a thousand times more vast and surging than before.

  Indeed, no one had pulled out the sword itself, but the aura contained within it, accumulated over millions of years, had been pulled out, or was about to be. At such a close distance, he could sense that while this aura was indeed boundless and incomparable, within it was still like a fully drawn bow, a great beast about to break its cocoon, hiding and suppressing an even more terrifying eruption, waiting for it to break free.

  "Someone has taken the hilt of the sword at The Radiant Citadel," Inham understood. But his astonishment did not diminish; in fact, it turned into shock and anger. A faint, ominous feeling arose in his heart. "Who? Could it be..."

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  "What's wrong? I thought it was your doing. It wasn't?"

  The two old men turned around. It was Valthor and Agrael. Valthor's expression was still impassive, like a living fossil in this aura. Agrael, on the other hand, was similar to Colin. She looked at Inham with irrepressible anger and killing intent in her eyes, but it did not ultimately erupt. She paused and asked, "Is our deal now finished?"

  The Lich King has already been born. The fate of all Necromancers will be the same. Whether they kill or not, whether they die or not, there is no longer any difference. In fact, even the question she was asking now was meaningless.

  After a moment's thought, Inham replied, "The person has escaped. At least, he was still fine when I left."

  "And what about Stephen? Deceived by you into going to The Radiant Citadel, now a subordinate of the Lich King, or just a Wight transformed from a corpse? Even if this wasn't your intention, it must be related to your actions..." Valthor's wrinkled face, like the fossil of a thousand-year-old bat, remained impassive. Although his eyes were as cloudy as a fossil's, it seemed nothing could be hidden from him, or perhaps he could just guess everything. But to him, it seemed as if there was nothing left in this world that could cause an emotional fluctuation. "But now, none of this matters anymore... This day was always going to come. Sooner or later..."

  "I'm going back to see." Standing there dazed for a long while, the expression on Inham's face changed back and forth. Suddenly, he turned and walked down the mountain.

  "To The Radiant Citadel? At such a close distance, sensing the Lich King's aura, do you think you can maintain your own mind?" Colin's face was full of ridicule. "There's no need to be so anxious. When the Lich King returns to this Diya Valley and truly pulls out The Black Star, we will all become his loyal servants. At that time, no matter where you are, the brand in your body will determine your fate."

  Inham did not answer. His footsteps down the mountain remained fast, without the slightest pause or hesitation. Returning to the valley, he did not go to retrieve a teleportation scroll, but instead headed towards the place where the gargoyles were kept. Even if he couldn't use a teleportation scroll, he would ride a gargoyle to get as close as possible to see, to see what exactly was going on.

  "Where are you going?" A hoarse, extremely unpleasant voice came.

  Inham's footsteps froze. He turned and saw the withered, broken figure of a Lich. In the face of the vast, boundless aura of The Black Star, it seemed the sealing magic circle they had set up back then was little stronger than a thin sheet of paper.

  "I heard it's all thanks to you? You must have worked so hard. I tried for so long without success, but it was you, the one who was always obstructing me, who accomplished it. What should I say? Should I thank you?"

  As unpleasant as the sound of dozens of rusty files grating against each other, the mockery in Vedenina's voice was palpable even if one couldn't hear it clearly. Whether it was due to the influence of The Black Star beginning to release its aura, or for some other reason, the flames in the Lich's eye sockets were much more vigorous than usual. She looked up at the dim sun hanging in the middle of the sky, then lowered her head to look at Inham. Even the muscles that had been withered for decades trembled slightly, as if she were smiling and saying: "It has been a long time since I've seen sunlight, since you imprisoned me. But I never thought that the first thing I would see after coming out would be the sun filtered by this great aura of necromancy. I can't help but wonder if you did this on purpose to give me a surprise?"

  The light of the teleportation magic circle in the distance lit up and then dissipated, and then Sandro's figure appeared. He glanced around and walked quickly towards them.

  "Master, have you also returned to prepare for this great moment?" Vedenina let out a light laugh, like a broken bellows.

  Sandro glanced at her and Inham, then asked in a low voice, "Who did it?"

  Sandro's face was heavy and sullen, as if a hundred pounds of lead had been poured onto it. And it was lead mixed with the most violent gunpowder, ready to explode at any moment, especially when he looked at Inham, the killing intent in his eyes was completely undisguised. But Inham didn't even look at him.

  "Strictly speaking, it was him, although he was unintentional. Master, don't be too nervous, because this actually has nothing to do with personal will; it is all the work of fate."

  Vedenina waved her hand. She now seemed like a prophet whose prediction had come true. Her unpleasant voice was filled with a kind of greatness that was connected to fate, an inviolable and irrefutable greatness. "Master Ronis, you, and Dracon... later, almost everyone in Diya Valley, almost everyone in the world, tried to stop me. In terms of action, you all succeeded. Inham, you even had to imprison me. But in the end? The final result is my victory."

  Sandro snorted heavily, his face grew even more ugly, but he did not speak.

  Vedenina's interest, however, grew higher and higher, and she continued to talk incessantly: "No, it shouldn't be said that I won. This is the fixed track of the gears of fate. I stood on the side of fate. All your efforts were in vain. It could even be said that your obstruction was also a part of fate. I don't hate any of you for what you did, because I know very well that was also fate..."

  Sandro's expression changed, becoming very strange, but he still said nothing, just sighing heavily.

  Just as Sandro sighed, Inham also sighed. At this moment, the two of them seemed to have a strange kind of tacit understanding. Their sighs overlapped, but Sandro's was heavy, while Inham's was light.

  Inham's gaze had been on Vedenina's face. His gaze was very gentle, with a drifting, hazy bewilderment and nostalgia, and also a little heartache. His eyes were originally very expressive and very handsome. With such a gaze, it was enough to make any woman fall for him. It was a pity that the focal point of his gaze was that mummy-like, dry, ugly face, without a trace of beauty or vitality.

  He was not actually looking at the ugly Lich in front of him, but at the peerless beauty of twenty years ago, the unforgettable, soul-stirring infatuation of twenty years ago.