Dark Wizard: Rise! My undead army!

When Leon awoke from his coma, it was already the third day.

He opened his eyes and saw a white ceiling. Sunlight streamed in through the window, glaringly bright.

He blinked, then closed his eyes again.

My mind went completely blank, as if I had been washed.

He didn't know who he was, where he was, or what had happened.

"The master is awake!" someone shouted.

Footsteps approached; there were many people.

A crowd gathered around the bed; some were dressed in armor, some in robes, some carrying bowls, and some holding cloths.

Their faces showed joy, worry, and anticipation.

Lyon looked at them without saying a word.

He recognized the captain of the guard, the old woman who always brought him meals, and the young girl who helped him wash.

But he didn't want to talk.

Images began to flash through his mind.

A man in black robes, a golden sword, a grayish-white orb of light, severed limbs, remains, blood, Sophia...

Sofia was embraced, forcibly kissed in public, and taken away by that devil.

Thinking of this, Leon suddenly sat up.

His eyes were red, and his hands were trembling.

"Where's Sofia? Where is Sofia...?"

The captain of the guards lowered his head. "My lord... Miss Sophia, she..."

"Where!" Leon's voice roared like a wild beast.

"I was... I was taken away by that man in black..."

Leon threw back the covers and stood up.

His legs were weak and he couldn't stand steadily. He had to hold onto the edge of the bed to keep from falling.

He looked down at his body.

When that person released the "spatial storm," I was standing in the center of the square, at the eye of the storm.

Fortunately, with its own strong abilities and the support of a mysterious power, it managed to weather the storm.

But the injuries were quite severe; there were wounds on the chest, arms, and legs.

The wounds are healing very quickly, visibly so.

Although he no longer had "free will," a mysterious force still accelerated his recovery.

The power of the world continued to pour into his body, more and more, faster and faster. His wounds were healing, his strength was returning, and his power was increasing.

But that's not enough! Far from enough!

"You all get out," Leon's voice suddenly became calm.

The captain of the guards paused, taken aback. "My lord..."

"go out."

Everyone left the room.

The door closed, and Leon stood alone in the empty room.

He looked at his hands, which still had dried bloodstains, but it wasn't his blood; it was the blood of thousands of people in the square!

He walked to the window and opened it. Outside were the streets of Liberty City, still crowded with people.

The refugees sat by the roadside, lay under the eaves, and huddled in shacks.

Some people were crying, some were arguing, some were staring blankly; the air was filled with a stench and an atmosphere of despair.

Lyon looked at these people, his eyes devoid of light.

He once wanted to save them, once thought he could save them, but now he can't even save himself.

He lowered his head and looked at his chest.

There is a beating heart there, and with each beat, the power of the world surges forth from its heart and flows to every part of the body.

The world's will is still giving him power, but he has no idea how to use it.

He only knows how to slash with his sword and only knows how to charge forward.

He didn't understand the rules, the laws, or those profound things; he was just an ordinary person who had been chosen.

Lyon looked up at the sky.

The sky was blue, the sun was bright, but he could see no hope.

Why should an ordinary person like him bear the burden of saving the world and suffer all kinds of pain?

"What do you want me to do?" he said to the air.

"You want me to go and die? To be that man in black a toy? You've chosen the wrong person."

No one answered him; the power of the world continued to pour into his body, whether he wanted it or not.

Lyon sat in the room for a day and a night.

He did not eat, drink, or sleep.

He just sat there, looking out the window at the sky, watching the sun rise and set, watching the stars shine one by one.

The following evening, he suddenly felt a calling.

It wasn't a sound, nor a picture, but an intuition, as if someone had lit a lamp in his heart, illuminating a path.

He clearly sensed that the road led north...

The ruins leading to Ragnarok...

The path leads to...the Tomb of the Gods!

Leon stood up, pushed open the window, and jumped out.

No one noticed him; he crossed the streets, climbed over the city walls, and disappeared into the night.

...

The wind is strong on the northern wilderness.

Lyon walked alone in the wind, without a torch, without food, and without water.

He didn't know how long he had walked, or how far he had gone; he just kept walking.

The power of the world was guiding him, and every step he took was in the right direction.

On the third day, he saw the ruins.

The earth cracked open, revealing a huge cavity beneath.

Guided by the will of the world, Lyon jumped into it, but the void was deeper than he had expected.

The wind blew up from below, carrying the smell of decay and dust. He fell for a while before his feet touched the ground.

The gravel crunched under his feet, the echoes reverberating in the hollow, as if someone were following him from afar.

It was dark all around, with only a few rays of moonlight shining through the cracks in the ceiling onto the broken stone coffins.

Rows of stone coffins stretched into the darkness, with no end in sight.

Some of the stone coffins were broken, with the lids lying on the ground in pieces. Others were still intact, but their surfaces were covered with cracks, like a dry riverbed.

The stone coffin was inscribed with names—the God of Light, the God of Darkness, the God of Earth, the God of the Ocean, the God of the Sky, the God of Justice, the God of Life, the God of Courage...

There are even more minor deities whose names I don't know.

These names are deeply engraved, the strokes filled with dust, but they are still legible.

Lyon stood there for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, before walking toward the nearest sarcophagus.

That was the coffin of the God of Light; the stone coffin was the largest and located at the very front.

The coffin lid was broken, and the inside was empty, with only a layer of black powder remaining, which was the ashes left after the god's corpse had decomposed.

Leon crouched down and reached out to touch the powder.

The moment his fingers touched the powder, a chaotic force surged into his body, and he shuddered violently as if he had been electrocuted.

Those were not ordinary powers; they were the resentment of gods before their death!

Anger, hatred, jealousy, fear, despair...

All the negative emotions mixed together, like a flood bursting its banks, rushing into his veins, into his bones, and into his brain.

The image of the God of Light dying flashed through Leon's mind.

At Ragnarok, He perished alongside the god of darkness, and originally intended to be resurrected through the faith of His followers...

But later, the divine kingdom was breached by other gods, his divine status was taken out, and his body was torn apart.

What He saw in the end was a mountain of corpses and a river of blood belonging to His believers.

He died in despair, without even having time to utter a curse.

Lyon's body began to tremble.

It wasn't the cold; it was that there were too many negative emotions, too intense, that his consciousness was about to be overwhelmed.

His hand was still pressed on the powder, and he tried to pull it back, but his fingers wouldn't obey him.

The powder seemed sticky, gripping his fingers tightly and constantly drilling into his body.