People are pirates, opening the era of games

He saw the hook and sickle being drawn toward her... He met her eyes - he was looking through my eyes, and he was seeing her.

"I go low." That was all he said, and the rest was expressed in silence.

His hands were now on his guns. "Senna..." His voice was slightly choked by the weight of memory.

"It's okay," I said softly.I remember that woman too.

On the horizon, darkness rolled, casting a village carved out of stone into darker shadows, drowning it in torrential rain, and worse to come.In that darkness lies light.It was another sentinel who called us here.

I had to fight my way through and find it.

The mountain road leading to the village has experienced hundreds of years of storm erosion, leaving only the hardest rocks.I could feel the wind blowing against my hood, and the mist from the waves splashing on my skin. It seemed like the whole world was blocking me, warning me of the darkness ahead.But compared to that, what scares me the most is the howling sound in the village...

That's my curse.Black mist knew I was coming.It will come to me first.

"It's time for the daily ambush again." I muttered to myself, indifferent, and ghosts emerged from the deathly darkness on the horizon.I draw them in with every breath I take.

I drew my weapon.

The sacred stones moved neatly. They were all relics of the deceased sentry, and each piece had been passed down and changed hands many times.Among them were men, women, fathers, and sisters, all lost to darkness.But when I hold my weapon, I hold their light, shining in the twin chambers of the great cannon.

The resentful spirits in the black mist condensed and formed, throwing out tentacles and hitting me.I was knocked back a few steps and was about to fall into the rocks below, but I finally regained my footing.With a loud thunder, the ghost's scream mixed with the rain and the crashing waves.However, the light after the thunder is not lightning.

It's my sacred artillery. The light bullets emitted make the resentful spirits boil and evaporate into black shadows.

It requires control.Requires concentration.I must use every ounce of strength in my body to fight against the black mist.And I can't stop.You can't stop for a moment in this life.

Each round of gunfire burned out a resentful spirit, and then a new one appeared.I was getting very close to the village and I could see new wraiths getting up and running towards me.

Run towards the blessing.

"Annabal, are you there?" I shouted.I only met him once, when Urias took me to the Sentinel Conference.It was rare for the sentinels to hold meetings, but something disturbed Urias and he had to summon all the sentinels.He didn't tell me the details, but from the way they looked at me, I roughly understood...

Their ignorance only exacerbates the pain.They will try to see through my armor, but in the end they will find nothing but helplessness and compromise.

I kept my fire going, charging into the village.The resentful spirit was very fast and swept through the village quickly.These buildings are almost as old as the island, carved out of the island's stubborn rock.But there is order within the chaos.Resentful spirits were hovering in the sky.They long for something.Not just life.Not just the soul.It’s not just me…

"Annabar!" I shouted again, my voice almost inaudible in the storm.

"Here! Come quickly!" A frightened voice responded to me.It was a woman's voice...and then her light joined mine in the darkness.

It's Annabar's apprentice, Daowan.

A person lay at her feet, two figures surrounded by darkness.Annabar's holy stone broadsword cast a dim light on her face.Her brows were sternly focused, guarding the mentor who fell to the ground.

He has passed the spark to the next...the sacred stone has not been left behind.

"We have to get out of here," the woman said tremblingly. "We have to take the villagers away. I can still hear their voices. It must be them..." She paused and looked at the person at her feet, confused and painful. . "I can still hear his voice..."

Although her knuckles were no longer bloody, she still held the sword hilt tightly.I put the Holy Stone Cannon behind my back and gently held her shoulders.

"We'll get through this together," I told her.Behind her I saw the entrance to the village catacombs.Wraiths gather there. "All of us together," I added curtly.

Whatever Kurogiri wants, it must be there.

The tomb was eroded by numerous floods.Even as we left the village and descended underground, the storm was still asserting its power and rain was flowing along the rock walls of the tomb.But if we are to drown deep underground, it will not be the rising tide or the torrential rain...

What will drown us will be the rolling black mist, swallowing up our light with a thick and suffocating roar.

I can hear the screams of the people in my hometown, the screams that the black mist snatched away when I first saw death as a child.I could hear my own echoes, I could see Lucian's face as Death saw me for the first time.

I was struck by the anger and fear of those waiting to die above me. Their cries were in a language I didn’t understand, but the pain was all too familiar to me.

Wraiths appeared from all sides of the tomb.

They are trapped in the hideousness of pain, destined to cause more pain.But no matter how heart-rending the screams of the living were, they could not appease their own howls.

And no matter how hot my light is, it doesn't hurt them as much as the pain caused by the renewed darkness.

So, instead of firing, I hugged them before I died.

My call is irresistible.I can extract the black mist from other evils and pump it into my body.

I felt death rushing in, pushing away the vanity of the flesh.Just as the black mist entangled me, those souls left one by one.

All the people who have ever drowned here.For a moment, I thought I saw Annabar...

Only a vague shadow lingers, a slowly awakening will.

It hovered for a moment, then turned to face me, eyes where fire burned.

"No," I whispered through the veil of death, now a ghost. "You have no business speaking.

You just have to listen. "

I filled the gun barrel with black mist.The pain and fear gathered from the source turned into gunfire and poured out, shooting where it deserved.

Darkness collided with darkness, and the light within me began to flicker.

Life doesn't want to let me go.I felt my body come back, as the last of the fog left me and a breath poured into my chest.My legs gave out and I fell to my knees.

"Did I miss any good show?" A voice came from deep in the passage.

"You know it. The same old thing." I said calmly, even though I was still struggling to breathe.

"What is the Ruined King searching for in the tomb?" Lucian asked.

"Pretty much." I replied.I looked up at D'Aowan and her expression started to look relieved.

The giant sword in her hand was still pointed at me.

There is a saying on my home island. "The wind can only speak if it takes away a person's breath."

Amid the clamor and roar of the black mist, I heard the dead speak.

And now I want to give their voice back.

"Warden of Soul Lock, I once heard someone from the Bright Moon Sect say that."

Aphelios had a keen interest in Thresh, and he also learned about Thresh's existence in detail.

Today's terrifying ghost Thresh was once just an ordinary person, but with some troubles.

In an era long forgotten by history, he was a humble caretaker of an order dedicated to collecting and protecting arcane knowledge.

This order was founded on Blessed Light Island, which was still shrouded in magical white mist and peacefully hidden from the world.

The elders of the cult ordered Thresh to take care of the secret warehouse beneath Hylia City in recognition of Thresh's years of hard work.

Many dangerous magical artifacts are sealed here in shackles.

At that time, Thresh was strong-willed and handy, and was very suitable for this task...

Even then, his cruel tendencies were noticed by his brothers in the Order.

Although he did not commit the actual murder, or at least there was no relevant evidence, he was still shunned by most people.

He later realized that the job he had been given was designed to keep him away from others and deny him the recognition he thought he deserved.

Years of solitude in the dark took its toll, and Thresh grew increasingly resentful and jealous, with only those hateful thoughts to keep him company as he patrolled the long corridors with a lantern.

His turning point came when a mad king managed to slip through the veil of fog and set foot uninvited on the shores of the Blessed Isles.

Secretly, Thresh was delighted by the carnage that ensued.

The invading king is obsessed with resurrecting his queen—and Thresh happily leads him to the fabled Water of Life.

Only the highest-ranking members of the order are allowed into the tombs containing the holy water.

Now, with the king's soldiers at his back, Thresh laughed loudly as he watched the guardians of the sanctuary fall in pools of blood.

He thought he finally got what he wanted.

The king placed the body of his dead wife into the water of life. What happened was known only to those who were present.

However, the tremor that followed spread to the entire Runeterra.

The dark energy erupted outwards in a catastrophic shock wave, engulfing Hylia and quickly sweeping across the entire Blessed Light Island. The white mist that once provided shelter here became dark and vicious.

All affected lives perished instantly, but their souls were unable to move on and were trapped in a terrifying state between life and death.

Thresh was the first to be taken alive, but while others lamented their fate, he reveled in the devastation.

He rose from this catastrophe, this curse of ruin, as a ghostly spirit seeking to torment others without fear of retaliation or the limitations of mortal nature.

Over the decades and centuries that followed, his supernatural appearance gradually changed, becoming closer to the evil and cruelty that continued to brew within him.

Thresh laughed as he realized that most of the souls trapped in the Black Mist retained only fragments of their former lives, even the most powerful invaders, not even Hecarim and Ledras. exception.

But his own power continued to grow.

Thresh preys on souls he deems inferior out of pure malice, his favorite prey always being those who suffer the most from his harm.

No matter how strong their determination, endurance, and faith are, he will defeat them as slowly as possible, understand their fears and weaknesses bit by bit, and play with his prey until the end.

Only when their lives have been torn apart, their loves taken away, their sense of purpose utterly lost, their hope extinguished, will Thresh's hook be withdrawn into his undying grasp.

Even so, death does not bring about merciful liberation, because those he kills will have their souls cut off by him, imprisoned in his cursed lantern, and forced to witness his plunder for eternity.

Only one soul ever managed to escape.

Senna, a member of the "Light Sentinels" he hated most, went head-to-head with Thresh in some forgotten evil vault and died in vain.

In the years that followed, her grief-stricken husband, Lucian, pursued the cruel spirit and became obsessed with it, almost allowing himself to be consumed entirely by grief and rage.

For Thresh, this was a delicacy.

However, before he could claim Lucian's soul, a swipe of hatred shattered Thresh's lantern, freeing Senna from within.

The mortal bond between the two of them was strong and weak, and Thresh, who was interested, decided to give them this trivial victory, because he knew clearly that this game of light and shadow was far from over...

The horrifying sound of chains scraping across the ground echoed through the wilderness.

In the wild, an unnatural mist obscured the light of the moon and stars, and the normally chirping insects now became unusually quiet.

Thresh came to a dilapidated shack.

He raised the lantern, not to illuminate the surroundings, but to see clearly inside the lantern.

The interior of the lantern is like a twinkling starry sky, with thousands of green balls twinkling.

They flew around wildly, as if trying to avoid Thresh's gaze.A strange and sly smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, revealing his shining fangs.

Every starlight is his treasure.

Behind the shack door, a man was sobbing.Thresh sensed his pain and was drawn to him.

He understood the man's pain as well as he did his old friend.

Thresh had appeared to this man only once, decades ago, but ever since, the ghost had continued to steal the man's loved ones.

From his beloved horse, to his mother, brother, to the most recent servant whom he confides in.

The ghost never disguises their death as a natural death.He wanted the man to know who was causing him pain.

The ghost walked through the shack door, chains trailing behind him.The inside of the shack was dark and damp, with years of accumulated dirt.

The man looked worse than the shack: he was unkempt, and his body was covered with pustules - vicious growths, some of which had just been scratched.The clothes he wore were originally expensive velvet, but now they were just tattered rags.

Seeing the sudden green fluorescence, the man cowered in fear and covered his eyes with his hands.His body shook violently and he retreated to the corner.

"Please. Please, not you," he whispered.