The Abyssal March


    Following the Wraithguard through the canyon''s throat, I understood why armies feared the dead. Beyond the checkpoint stretched a necropolis of war - regimented legions of bone warriors occupying honeycombed barracks carved into obsidian cliffs. Their hollow eyes tracked my passage. Ten million strong, I later learned. Today, they simply made my HUD flicker with threat assessments like a deranged slot machine.


    Handoffs between ever-stronger escorts became a morbid parade:


    Soulbound Cavalier (Tier 3)


    Umbral Executioner


    Phantom Lancer (Elite)


    When the、 finally delivered me to the command spire, the Dreadspire Warden''s true level burned crimson in my vision: Lv750 - [Fallen Paladin Ascendant].


    "Speak quickly, mortal." His voice resonated like a cathedral bell forged in hellfire. "Why does a Netherlord''s sigil grace your hand?"


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    The Pact


    The Demonic Oculus pulsed as I explained Lira''s request. The Warden''s deathless fingers trembled against his zweih?nder. "She... thrives? With Kronak the Forgebreaker?"


    "Like newlyweds," I offered.


    His laughter shook ash from the rafters. "The old wolf surrendered his marshal''s seal for love! Fitting." A obsidian case materialized before me. "Take this relic. Let it kindle your legend."


    [System: Obtained "Shroud of the Betrayer" (Bound Artifact)]


    Defense Scales with Level (Current: 120) | Stealth Cloaking (Stationary) | 50% Action Delay Inflict


    The Warden gripped my pauldron. "Blood-brothers, you and I. Let the living learn to fear our shadow."


    Aftermath


    Dawn found me sprinting from the canyon, artifact fluttering like captured night. Only at Lost Citadel''s gates did realization strike - I''d forgotten the damned cloak pattern.


    Lira''s gasp when I unfurled the Shroud confirmed its value. "This isn''t just fabric," she breathed. "It''s his mourning cloak from the Godswar."


    Kronak''s testing revealed the Shroud''s true horror - perfect invisibility when still, predator-like distortion in motion. "You''ll need assassins'' guild writs," he grumbled, translucent fingers plucking an apple from my belt.