The blue glow of teleportation faded, and Inham appeared within the teleportation magic circle of Dehya Valley.
At first glance, he could hardly believe his own eyes. The once idyllic paradise of Dehya Valley had now become a desolate wasteland. The lush, fragrant meadows had turned into dry, decayed soil, like the residue left behind by drained swamps. The towering trees that had once flourished were now nothing more than strange, withered husks. The countless exotic flowers and rare plants carefully cultivated by necromancers for centuries had all withered into lifeless decay. Only a few buildings stood in eerie isolation, surrounded by the gloom. Though the sky was clear, the sunlight could not penetrate, leaving the valley shrouded in an oppressive darkness, like a land of the dead.
A strange humming sound filled the air, echoing across the entire Spiral Shadow Mountains. Along with this sound spread an overwhelming presence—an aura so powerful that it had extinguished all life within Dehya Valley, even blocking out the sun's rays.
This aura was not strange to Inham or Dehya Valley. It was the presence of the ancient artifact standing atop the peak of Spiral Shadow—the Black Star. However, unlike before, when it remained in a state of eerie stillness, now it surged violently like a raging tsunami. Dehya Valley had been the only sanctuary within Spiral Shadow Mountains that Akibard had carefully chosen, a single refuge untouched by this oppressive force. But now, the chaotic surge of its power had swallowed even this last safe haven.
"I never thought you'd dare to return." A figure emerged from the distance, silent as a wandering ghost in this lifeless place.
"Danis, what's happening here?" Inham's voice trembled with shock.
The two necromancers' voices echoed in the empty valley, blending with the endless humming, both equally devoid of life.
"You should know better than anyone what's happening," the necromancer called Danis frowned at Inham. His expression was filled with anger and murderous intent at first, but in the end, all of it faded into deep helplessness. With a sigh, he continued, "Forget it. The Black Star has awakened. Aside from us, there is no longer anything alive in Dehya Valley. And soon enough, we won't be considered alive either…"
Necromancers were the only beings unaffected by the Black Star's aura. The moment they entered Dehya Valley, they were marked by its imprint—an imprint that had already sealed their fate.
"Who pulled the Black Star from its resting place? Wasn't the sword's hilt still at Glory Fortress?"
"You don't know?" Danis stared at Inham for a moment before turning away. "Come with me. Both of our masters are at the summit."
In the distance, at the peak of the towering Spiral Shadow Mountainss, black tendrils of energy writhed and coiled like enormous serpents in the sky. Inham quickened his pace, following Danis toward the mountain top.
At the summit, two elders stood in the midst of the surging darkness, silently gazing upon the Black Star resting atop the altar. They didn't even glance back when Danis and Inham arrived. The blade of the Deathlord's artifact sword was still embedded in the altar, but its aura had become a thousand times more overwhelming than before.
The sword itself had not been taken out, but the aura it had accumulated over countless millennia had been—or rather, was on the verge of being unleashed. At such close proximity, Inham could sense the vast and unparalleled force within it. Yet, at its core, it was like a fully drawn bow, like a behemoth on the verge of breaking free from its cocoon, suppressing its terrifying eruption, waiting for the moment to explode.
"Someone must have taken the hilt from Glory Fortress," Inham realized. But his astonishment did not lessen in the slightest. Instead, it turned into furious disbelief, as an ominous premonition stirred within him. "Who was it? Could it be…"
"What's wrong? I thought this was what you had planned," a voice interrupted. "So it wasn't?"
The two elders turned around. They were Shante and Agrenel. Shante's expression remained indifferent, like a living fossil amidst the dark energy. Agrenel, however, bore the same restrained fury as Danis. Her gaze toward Inham was filled with barely suppressed rage and murderous intent, though in the end, she did not act on it. After a brief pause, she asked, "Has our deal been completed?"
The Deathlord had risen. The fate of all necromancers was now the same—whether to kill or spare, to live or to die, it no longer made a difference. Even the question she had just asked was ultimately meaningless.
After a moment's thought, Inham replied, "He has escaped. At least, when I left, he was still fine."
"Where is Stephen? You tricked him into going to Glory Fortress. Is he now a servant of the Deathlord, or merely a lich transformed from a corpse?" Shante's voice was calm, his deeply wrinkled face as expressionless as ever, like the fossil of a thousand-year-old bat. His eyes, murky as stone, seemed to see through everything—not because he was all-knowing, but because nothing in this world seemed capable of stirring his emotions anymore. "But it doesn't matter now… This day was bound to come, sooner or later."
"I have to go back and see for myself."
Inham stood frozen for a moment, his expression shifting rapidly. Then, all at once, he turned and strode toward the mountain path.
"Go back to Glory Fortress? Feeling the Deathlord's aura from this distance, do you really think you'll be able to keep your own mind intact?" Danis sneered. "There's no need to be so impatient. When the Deathlord returns to Dehya Valley and truly draws the Black Star, we will all become his loyal servants. No matter where you are, the mark in your body has already sealed your fate."
Inham didn't answer. His steps remained firm and unhesitating as he rushed down the mountain. Once back in the valley, he didn't retrieve a teleportation scroll. Instead, he made his way toward the gargoyle storage. If teleportation magic was no longer an option, he would ride a gargoyle as close as possible—he had to see for himself what had happened.
"Where do you think you're going?" A voice rasped out, hoarse and grating to the extreme.
Inham's footsteps halted abruptly. He turned to see a withered, broken figure—the lich.
Before the overwhelming aura of the Black Star, it seemed the sealing magic they had cast back then had been little more than a flimsy sheet of paper.
"I heard this is all your doing? Quite the effort you put in. After all my attempts failed, I never expected that the one who had always opposed me would be the one to accomplish it for me. How should I put it… should I be thanking you?"
Vadenina's voice was as grating as dozens of rusted iron files scraping against each other. Even if her tone wasn't entirely clear, the mockery within was unmistakable. Whether it was due to the Black Star beginning to release its aura or simply her own mood, the flames in her eye sockets burned far brighter than usual. She tilted her head back to glance at the dim sun hanging in the sky before lowering her gaze to Inham again. The desiccated muscles on her ancient face twitched—perhaps a laugh.
"It's been so long since I last saw sunlight. Ever since you locked me away. But I never expected that the first thing I'd see upon my return would be a sun filtered through this magnificent deathly aura. Makes me wonder—did you arrange this spectacle just for me, as a special surprise?"
From a distance, the teleportation circle glowed briefly before fading again, and Sandru's figure emerged. His gaze swept across the scene before he quickly strode toward them.
"Master, have you returned to celebrate this grand occasion as well?" Vadenina let out a laugh like a broken bellows wheezing in the wind.
Sandru glanced between her and Inham, then asked in a low voice, "Who did this?"
His expression was heavy, dark, as if a hundred pounds of lead had been poured into his face—lead mixed with the most volatile explosives, ready to detonate at any moment. His eyes, filled with unmasked killing intent, locked onto Inham.
But Inham didn't even glance at him.
"Strictly speaking, it was him," Vadenina said, her voice light and casual. "Though unintentionally, of course. No need to be so tense, Master. This isn't about individual will… it's simply fate."
Vadenina waved her hand, now resembling a prophet whose predictions had been proven true. Her grating voice carried an undeniable weight, as if intertwined with fate itself—irrefutable, inevitable, and beyond resistance.
"Master Ronis, you all, and Decken… Later, nearly everyone in Dehya Valley, almost everyone in the entire world, tried to stop me. And in terms of action, you all succeeded. Inham, you even had to imprison me. But in the end? In the end, I won."
Sandru let out a heavy snort, his expression growing even darker, yet he said nothing.
Vadenina, however, seemed to be enjoying herself more and more, continuing to speak with enthusiasm.
"No, I shouldn't even say that I won. This is simply the predetermined course of fate's wheel. I stood on the side of destiny. All your efforts were in vain. In fact, I could even say that your resistance was just another part of fate itself. I don't hate any of you for what you did, because I understand—it was all destiny…"
Sandru's expression shifted, becoming strange and unreadable. But in the end, he still said nothing—only letting out a deep, heavy sigh.
At the same moment Sandru sighed, Inham also let out a sigh. For a brief instant, the two of them seemed to share a strange sense of understanding. Sandru's sigh was heavy, while Inham's was light.
Inham's gaze remained fixed on Vadenina's face. His eyes held a soft expression—tinged with confusion, nostalgia, and a faint trace of sorrow. His eyes had always been striking, captivating even, and now, with such an expression, they could have made any woman swoon.
But unfortunately, his gaze fell upon a face that was nothing more than a withered, mummified husk—ugly, lifeless, utterly devoid of beauty.
In truth, he wasn't looking at the grotesque lich before him. He was looking at the breathtaking woman of twenty years ago—the woman who had once stolen his heart, the one he could never truly forget.