Heidler City. Gloomy and dim, suffused with a faint grey-white pallor — a mirror of the Necropolis World's monotone stagnation.
Before the rift's entrance, Douglas, Fernando, Vincent, Claus, and Erika had already arrived, waiting for Lucian.
"You brought the Shield of Truth as well?" Claus caught sight of the belated Lucian and offered a smiling guess. "Add the Crown of Thorns you borrowed, and you're carrying five legendary items in total. Truly unprecedented — even I, a dedicated alchemist-mage, can't compare. The Speaker himself only carries four."
"The Speaker's items are either legendary pinnacle or legendary third-tier. How could I possibly compare?" Lucian replied "modestly."
Legendary items were scarce for two reasons. First, the primary materials required were extraordinarily precious — sometimes centuries of effort couldn't gather enough for a single piece. Second, the demands on the crafter were immense. Besides legendary mages and Holy Spirit Priests, even vampire princes and primordial dragons could only rely on their racial abilities to forge them through unconventional methods, with an abysmal success rate. Epic knights, meanwhile, absolutely had to enlist someone else's help. As a result, very few such items had survived from before the Arcane Empire. The period from the Empire's later years to the present represented an explosive phase — the number of legendary items had multiplied two- to threefold.
It was precisely because of this that legendary mages like Hathaway, who excelled at "Grand Elemental Disruption" and "Elemental Decomposition," were both loathed and feared — one moment of carelessness could destroy decades of accumulated assets in an instant.
Vincent, Master of Restless Souls, interrupted their exchange. "Since everyone's present, we should set off."
"Yes, it's time," Douglas said with a faint smile, solemn but without a trace of tension.
Having gathered extensive intelligence on the Necropolis World, the Council of Arcane had long since cracked the problem of perceiving the rift. Now, enveloped within a specially configured Magic Circle, the twisted rift was clearly visible — exuding a thick aura of death and permeated by faint threads of black, white, and grey tedium.
Passing through the rift and once again experiencing that sensation of penetrating a thick veil of shadow, Lucian set foot in the Necropolis World. Around him loomed a haphazard reflection of Heidler City — numerous towering magic tangles of arcane spires leaning and crashing against each other at odd angles, like a child's haphazard black-and-white crayon drawing. A faint grey pervaded everything.
The entire world, apart from each other, held not a single drop of additional color.
"It's been nearly ten years since I first entered the Necropolis World, obtained the Sun Crown, and learned of Mr. Maskylin's imprisonment — and we're only now truly embarking on the exploration of the Necropolis World," Lucian reflected inwardly with considerable emotion. Back then, he had only just become a formal mage.
Because teleportation within the Necropolis World was somewhat suppressed, Douglas and Fernando led Lucian and the others through seven successive relay bases, ultimately arriving at the forward-most outpost near the depths, where they met the diviner Begna, who was on rotation.
He still wore his grey pointed hat, and his two white eyebrows seemed to have grown a shade longer.
"What I've obtained through astrology is that the mysterious entity within the Necropolis World shows no signs of awakening — but the Necropolis Temple harbors other dangers. You must not be careless. If you encounter extreme peril, remember: do not rush to retreat. Only by pressing forward can you see hope." Begna delivered his prophecy — the result of two full months of preparation — in his characteristically cryptic manner.
Fernando asked with a frown, "Press forward? And we're only heading to the Soul Hearth for an initial survey before returning. The legendary undead in the perimeter region shouldn't pose any real danger to us."
Based on Ador's memories and the records left by Vican, this region contained only four undead at the third tier of legendary power: a Lich King, a Servant of Death, an Ancient Mummy, and a Phantom Lord. Douglas alone could suppress at least three of them. The remaining undead were merely first- and second-tier legendary, and their numbers didn't exceed six. Without third-tier interference, Fernando himself could put them all into true slumber — to say nothing of the Master of Restless Souls, whose abilities specifically countered the undead, and the "walking treasury" Lucian. Even if all forty-plus mindless legendary undead surrounded them completely, it would be no real issue.
"Ador was merely a high-ranking undead. His understanding of the Necropolis Temple's outer perimeter was still extremely superficial — he only knew the areas he frequented. And the Temple's rooms, palaces, and corridors shift constantly, like a living labyrinth. There may be dangerous rooms or passages he knew nothing about," Vincent countered cautiously.
Only after Vincent released Ador's and Vican's data did Lucian understand why Maskylin had left behind coordinate-shifting patterns. The buildings within the Necropolis Temple were in perpetual flux — yesterday the Undead Garden might have stood here, and today black tombstones might occupy its place. Even high-ranking undead like Ador only knew the outermost shift patterns, and each journey to the Soul Hearth had been led by a legendary undead.
The diviner Begna said gravely, "I don't know where this danger originates either. Perhaps you won't encounter it at all. But whatever happens, be careful."
Douglas nodded gently and addressed Lucian, Erika, and the others. "This exploration will be divided into two parts. The first is to proceed without causing a major disturbance — just as Maskylin and his group did on their first attempt. We slip quietly to the Soul Hearth, conduct an initial study of it, and simultaneously look for traces and reasons behind the Church's cooperation with the Necropolis World. The second part is to return to the perimeter and methodically eliminate the mindless legendary undead."
This plan had been discussed previously; this was his final confirmation. The reason they didn't clear the perimeter first before entering was concern that the commotion might frighten the sentient legendary undead into activating whatever locks the Necropolis Temple might possess, or attract interference from other factions, thereby defeating the purpose of the exploration.
With the plan confirmed, the six legendary mages departed the forward base and flew, cloaked in invisibility, toward the depths.
After roughly an hour, a vast expanse of black suddenly filled Lucian's pupils — a monumental palace complex of awe-inspiring scale, dwarfing Alenur by an immeasurable margin, spanning fully half the size of the Holm Kingdom, and soaring to heights beyond reckoning, plunging deep into the grey-white sky where its peak could not be seen even at the limit of vision.
Even a clash between legendary beings that could level an ordinary city would, relative to this palace complex, amount to nothing more than the collapse of a single great hall or garden.
"The deeper you go, the more indestructible the palace's materials become. Perhaps the innermost rooms are composed entirely of Walls of Sighing," the Master of Restless Souls ventured, unusually loquacious, his eagerness to explore the Soul Hearth palpable.
The "Wall of Sighing" — one of the most formidable defensive spells in necromancy. It could be destroyed by true sunlight, but no other attack in existence could breach it. He was merely using it as a metaphor.
As for that particular spell, Lucian wasn't particularly worried — the "Eternal Blazing Sun" happened to be its natural counter.
Beyond the Necropolis Temple, the wasteland was blanketed by a dense mass of moving corpses — humans, elves, dragons, beholders, Koatai merfolk, sphinxes — all with rotting skin, exposed muscle and white sinew, strange maggots burrowing in and out of their flesh. They crept along slowly, wandering aimlessly. Without sound or color, it was as though a black-and-white film were playing out before them.
"Such excellent, excellent corpses," Vincent murmured with delight as they descended, surveying them the way a child might gaze upon treasured toys.
Erika softly chanted an incantation and cast a mass illusion spell. Now, in the perception of every undead creature, Lucian and the others appeared as one of their own.
Upon nearing the Necropolis Temple, the six of them landed and moved through the throng of undead on foot. The stench of decay assaulted them head-on.
In this region, high-ranking leaders began to appear among the wandering undead — some possessed intelligence, while others acted purely on instinct.