Azeroth’s Death Track

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The realm of death, a mysterious place, is where the living cannot enter and is the home of the dead.

It is like "hell" in the traditional sense, but it is actually more complicated than hell. It seems to be a world with another set of rules. It is shrouded in the real world. After satisfying certain conditions, it It will also have contact with the real world.

Fourteen months ago, after Tyrion sniped the great demon Archimonde, he was besieged by the two deaths of Azeroth. It was also at that time that he was first attacked by Wagri Agaza." "Drag" into the realm of death, and really have a mysterious "connection" with that world.

And now, this weak and unique undead standing in front of Tyrion is exactly after Tyrion and the realm of death have recovered in northern Xinjiang. Anyone with basic logical thinking ability will take these two Things are connected. Once, Tyrion thought that the world would not affect reality until he really figured out the mysteries of the realm of the dead, and now it seems that his understanding is wrong.

Since he entered that world, the realm of death has been affecting reality, but he didn't find it.

"Come on, sit down and say."

Tyrion snapped his fingers, and several beautifully dressed undead servants brought chairs and tables for Jeffrey Dylan, while the fat chef Lar who had been prepared long ago, wore a bag The white and golden chef robe, with a soaring chef hat, pushed the dining car into the room. He swiftly put a few "dishes" that the big lord likes on the table, and gave them to the guests diligently. A bowl of antler soup with ingredients.

The Lord Lord sat opposite Jeffrey in a relaxed attitude. He tilted his legs, put his hands on the armrests of the chair, and squeezed half a glass of wine in his hand. He watched Jeffrey carefully taste the dishes, watching The expressions of "surprise" emerged from the skinny face of this free undead.

For any undead, the temporary restoration of taste is a delightful thing. Under the background of food and wine, the previous fear of the powerful power of the lord has disappeared unconsciously. .

While guests from afar taste delicious food, Tyrion is observing this "free" undead with a cold, nonchalant smile.

The death energy in Jeffrey Dylan’s body is weak to Tyrian as a firefly in the wind. That little death energy is only to maintain the movement of Jeffrey’s body and to ensure that his body will not It's rotten and can't be used for combat at all. To be honest, Tyrion is the first to see such a weak undead.

However, there is an almost complete soul hidden in the weak body of this undead. His soul integrity is almost comparable to that of the high-level knight of the dark blade, and it is easy to see that this undead still maintains "emotion". And... he seems to be a little bit different from the dark blade of the undead, his inner obsession seems not serious, at least not so serious as to affect his soul.

In other words... Except for the dead body, Jeffrey Dylan is almost a complete "human", like a human soul that is not alive, is stuffed into a dead body Same as here.

"Well..."

After devouring the last deer steak flavored with spider venom, Jeffrey Dylan groaned with satisfaction. He picked up the tablecloth, wiped his mouth, and said to the lord in front of him:

"Sweet and bitter, my God, I haven't experienced such a fresh taste in years... This is just a big meal, in my opinion it is already worthwhile, thank you for your hospitality, Lord Lord , Thank you for your kindness."

"Ok..."

Tyrion did not answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on Dylan’s body. In Spirit Vision, he could clearly see that the food eaten by Jeffrey was running in the weak energy of death in his body. , Was slowly "digested", and after digestion, the energy of death in Dylan's body actually became a bit thick...damn! These eccentric undead can actually become powerful by "eating"...

"What is the principle?"

Tyrion grunted, and then reopened the topic. He looked at Jeffrey and asked softly:

"So, let me guess, Dylan, you should not be the soul living in this era, your body, or your original body, right?"

Faced with this problem, Jeffrey Dylan nodded calmly, his gray eyes beating with thinking, he said:

"I should be... well, according to the current calendar, I should have been born in 225 years before the Dark Portal, and died in 165 years before the Dark Portal due to a plague spreading across the Stratholme District. I am A ghost that lived 200 years ago, but did not know why it was resurrected in this era."

Talking, he patted his fairly complete body, and somewhat self-deprecatingly said:

"And this body... is indeed not my body. In fact, when I was difficult to open the decaying coffin and clean the body by the lake, I realized that I was "resurrected" in another body. . And I have been lucky, in Herman town, at least one-third of the residents' bodies are broken... We can't find the "doctor" of the dead, and we don't know how to repair Broken body."

"Well, it sounds terrible."

Tyrion sipped his blood and said to Jeffrey:

"But the Blade of Darkness has a complete set of methods for repairing the body of the undead. If you trust us, when you leave, I can send a psychiatrist who is proficient in medicine to go back with you, and some special for the undead. The serving chef...Eating is just a pastime for Darkblade Undead, but it seems that it has a unique "meaning" for you."

"Then I would like to thank your people for your generosity, Lord Lord."

Jeffrey stood up and bowed slightly to Tyrion, while the High Lord waved his hand. He remained silent for a few seconds, and he looked at Jeffrey:

"I guess the reason why you are willing to come to Stormwind with Roger should not just satisfy your curiosity, right?"

"Yes."

Dylan nodded calmly again, talking with this guy made Tyrion feel comfortable, just like chatting with a human with a complete personality, and the exact same life form of the two also added to this chat. There was a kind of kindness, at least in the serious and old-fashioned Legion of Dark Blades, Tyrion could not find such a good chatter.

Jeffrey looked at the terrifying ice blue eyes of the High Lord, he hesitated for a moment, and then asked:

"What I want to know is... Are we, the birth of us forgetters, related to you? Are you, our... creator? Or, the creator?"

"Why do you think so?"

Tyrion drank the blood wine from the glass. He put the glass on the table, his hands crossed on his chest, and he looked at Jeffrey:

"Why do you have this idea?"

"Because...because at the moment when I was just recovering, some special "pictures" remained in my unclear thinking."

Jeffrey rubbed his dry forehead skin, this was probably the way of thinking while he was still alive, he said a little blankly:

"That should be what my soul saw in hell... The memories that remain, in fact, are not just me. Many recovered forgetters have such memories, just some fragments, but in those fragments, There is a vague, but the presence of the figure holding the black fire sword..."

Dylan looked at Tyrion. His gray eyes had an undisguised expectation and anxiety:

"That's you, right? You fought in hell, freeing our souls from the shackles of that dark land... recovering on this land in the same life form as you... many forgetters firmly believe Our resurrection has a certain mission... I came to Stormwind City and came to meet you, just to understand this mission! We..."

"Why are we dead like this?"

Jeffrey's question silenced Tyrion for several minutes. Finally, in the gaze of the Mayor of the Forgotten, Tyrion's fingers spread out, and the roaring sword of evil, the Sword of Soul appeared in his palm. Here, in the entanglement of black flames, the apocalypse finally became so frightened by the spirits.

"Do you remember...is it?"

Tyrion placed the apocalypse in the air in front of him. The beating black flame did not feel any burning. On the contrary, the surrounding air became cold during the beating of the flame.

At the moment when he saw the apocalypse, Jeffrey stood up excitedly from the chair. He stared at the burning bone sword in front of him. Finally, he sincerely put his hands on his chest and singled out in front of Tyrion. Kneeling, he lowered his head, just like a mortal who worshipped under the gods, he said in a sincere voice:

"Ah, the creator of the Forgotten...I...We finally found you, please let us know...Please tell us, what is the mission of the Forgotten? Please let us recover... significance."

Looking at the forgotten souls kneeling on the ground in front of his eyes, Tyrion's eyes became cold, he said in a deep voice:

"I still don't know the connection between your birth and me, but if you are really born for me, then I don't want to see my family, kneel in front of anyone... stand up!"

Jeffrey Dylan immediately stood up, and he lowered his head in a panic, until the lord's cold palm rested on his shoulder:

"First of all, you are free, remember this, no one will be your master, if there is really a guy who declares this in front of you... then just give him a knife as I said. !"

"Secondly, the appearance of the Forgotten has filled a regret I have always had. Dylan, I have created a federal civilization in one hand. I hope to see various races struggle for a great goal, but in the federal system. , There is no undead civilization...you know what you want to say, but listen to me..."

Tyrion takes back the buzzing apocalypse. He spread his arms in front of Jeffrey Dylan. He said like a dreamer:

"You want to say that there is a dark blade undead in the federal system, but a civilization cannot rely on a group of soldiers, yes, in my eyes, the dark blade army is very powerful, but it cannot be called a civilization... We are soldiers, we are soldiers, we are weapons...but we are not civilized!"

"A civilization should have enough free soul, enough wisdom to maintain its own existence, and be able to multiply naturally without interference from external forces... These three dark blades are not satisfied, this is my regret, undead, one hand It is a very regrettable fact that the undead that created the federal civilization has no civilization of its own, and your presence... Dylan, your presence fills this regret."

The lord looked at the forgotten in front of him clearly, he said:

"Your souls are free and unfettered. Although your individual is weak, you have enough and complete wisdom. When I didn't notice, you have multiplied into a settlement, despite this multiplication The process is not the same as other lives, but it doesn’t matter. I see the future of the undead from you... The Forgotten... This name is not so good, you will call yourself "the undead"...you will become Under the federal system, the real undead civilization! You must reproduce your own civilization!"

"You are looking for the meaning of your existence from me? This is the meaning of your existence! Create and develop your own civilization, fulfill the circular creed of life and death with your own existence, and work with the living to create a glory for the Union without The endless future...this is your mission."

"This is the mission of the undead! Starting today..."

Tyrion's tone became low, and he extended his left hand to Jeffrey Dylan:

"Starting today, maybe later, in short, undead, waiting for the world's stage... are you, are you ready?"

Jeffrey Dylan looked at the left hand that the Lord Lord reached in front of him. He was a little scared, but Terion’s deafening speech made him see a future path in a daze, which was what he imagined The creator’s speech was somewhat different. He had thought that Tyrion would force them to join his army, but now, Tyrion gave them the freedom to choose...

But maybe...

Jeffrey seriously looked at Tyrion. Dawnblade in front of him, then stretched out his hand and held it with Tyrion.

Perhaps this is what the Creator really should be... At least such a dark-edged lord is more like a worthy leader to follow than the indifferent gods described in the scriptures.

——————————————

Tyrion stood by the mansion window, looking at the back of Jeffrey Dylan leaving under Roglio, he asked softly:

"What do you think is going on?"

"There is no doubt that the influence of the realm of death on the present world is increasing, and I guess that because of your frequent contact with it, that plane is "close" to the present world."

Behind the High Lord, Shadow Wagri Agaza said:

"The appearance of the undead may just be the appearance of this influence."

"Anhalde, what is your opinion?"

Tyrion asked again:

"You are trusted by Hella. Have you learned the rules of the realm of death from her?"

On the other side of the High Lord, there is another Wagri, but compared to Agatha, her body is bigger and her armor is more complicated and more gorgeous. Upon the inquiry of Tyrion, this has just joined the dark The Valkyrie leader shook her head. She said in a hoarse voice:

"Hella will never tell us this, but... if you have to make a guess, then I think that the appearance of these undead is because of the dementors you beheaded in the realm of death... Dementors feed on the negative emotions of the soul, but in the face of this monster, those weak souls cannot be resisted. They will be absorbed into the body of the dementor, a long-lived dementor body. There will be many, many weak souls bound."

"You killed those monsters, so those dazed souls followed the path when you came and appeared in this world, so they think you are their creator, which is actually true..."

"Well, it's interesting."

Tyrion moaned his chin, and he said to the two Valgris behind:

"Then look for it, Anhald, Agatha, and take your sisters to find these new undead throughout the eastern continent."

"Look for my family members and bring them to the Federation... The birth of the civilization of the undead may take a long time, but it does not matter..."

"I can afford this true future of the undead."

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