People are pirates, opening the era of games

"A long time ago, I recognized you." Thresh's voice was sharp and harsh, like a voice that hadn't spoken a word in several years.

"Now I'm here to collect the soul..."

"I'm going to die," the man said, his voice almost inaudible. "If you're here to kill me, you'd better hurry up." He mustered up the courage to look Thresh in the eyes.

Thresh grinned. "I don't want your death."

He opened the lantern's glass door slightly, and a strange sound came from inside - a cacophony of screams.

The man didn't react at first.

There were too many screams at the same time, and the mixture together was as harsh as the sound of crushing glass slag.But then his eyes widened in horror as he heard a voice he recognized coming from Thresh's lantern.

He heard his mother, his brother, his friends, and finally he heard the most horrific sound: his children, wailing as they seemed to be burned alive.

"What have you done?" he screamed.

He randomly picked something up from his hands - a broken stool - and threw it towards Thresh with all his strength.The stool passed through the ghost's body without hitting anything, and Thresh began to laugh darkly.

The man ran towards Thresh, his eyes filled with rage.The ghost threw off the chain, and the iron hook flew out like a poisonous snake.

The barbed iron hook pierced the mortal's chest, shattering the ribs and piercing the heart.

The man fell to his knees, a look of pain on his face that was delicious to Thresh.

"I left them to protect them," the man cried.Blood gushes from the mouth.

Thresh twisted the chain hard.At first, the man didn't move.

Then he started to be torn apart.Just like a piece of coarse cloth being pulled out line by line, he suffered severe pain and was pulled away from his body bit by bit.His body was convulsing violently, blood splattered all over the walls.

"Now, let's begin," Thresh said.

He dragged the hooked soul, which shone brightly at the other end of the chain, and was then imprisoned in the lantern.

The man's body slumped to the ground, and Thresh left.

Thresh left the shack following the curling black mist, holding his lantern high along the way.

It wasn't until Thresh disappeared without a trace and the fog dissipated that the insects resumed their singing at night and the stars filled the night sky again.

If I remember correctly, Thresh's motto is - 'The mind is my toy'.

Nowadays, becoming an undead can be considered a kind of torture.

"Hammer stone?

In my opinion, the biggest conspirator in the entire Shadow Isles and even the entire Runeterra is the Death Chanter. "

Karthus is the bringer of annihilation, the undead spirit.I have never seen its terrifying figure before hearing its ghostly elegy.

The living are afraid of the undead who will never be reincarnated, but Karsus only sees beauty and purity in the existence of the undead. What he sees is the perfect fusion of life and death.

When Karthus was reborn from the Shadow Isles, he was determined to serve as the apostle of the undead and bring the joy of death to all mortals.

Karthus was born under the walls of the Noxian capital, at the bottom of the slums.

His mother died when he was born, leaving his father to raise him and his three sisters alone.

They lived with several other families in a dilapidated, fly-infested almshouse, feeding on rainwater and vermin.

Karthus is the best forager of all the children, often adding mutilated corpses to their cauldron.

In the slums of Noxus, death is commonplace. Parents wake up to find that the children around them are stiff and cold, and the new day begins with their sobs.

Karthus slowly learned to appreciate the sobs and lamentations, and he would watch in fascination as the Kindred death recorders carved counting marks into their staffs and carried the bodies out of the almshouse.

At night, the young Karsus would secretly look around in the crowded almshouse, looking for those who were dying, hoping to see the moment when their souls transcended life and death.

However, many years have passed, and his night tours have always been fruitless, because no one can accurately predict the time of a person's death.

He never had the opportunity to see people die, until one day death began to visit his family.

Outbreaks of disease were common in such densely populated settlements, and Karthus's sisters contracted the plague, so he took care of them.

His father only drank to drown his sorrows, and Karthus became a dedicated younger brother, caring for and caring for his sisters when they were seriously ill and dying.

He watched the three sisters die one after another. In their dying eyes, Karsus seemed to feel some kind of divine call.

He wanted to understand the afterlife and longed to explore the mysteries of eternal existence.

When the death recorders came to take away the body, Karthus followed them back to the temple, peppering them with questions about the Order of Kindred and the funeral rites.

Can a person exist in the gap between the end of life but not death?If the interface between life and death can be understood and controlled, can the wisdom of life be integrated with the clarity of death?

The Recorders of Death soon felt that Karsus was a perfect fit for their order and recruited him into their ranks, initially digging graves and collecting firewood for cremations, and later rising to the rank of Collector.

Karthus would push his bone cart through the streets of Noxus every day, collecting corpses.

Soon, all of Noxus had heard about his requiem. His eulogy was tragic and beautiful, describing the beauty of death and praying that the afterlife would be a desirable holy place.

Many grieving relatives of the deceased found solace in his lamentations and found peace in his elegy.

Finally, Karsus was sent to the temple to look after the sick, provide them with end-of-life care, and greet the deceased when death came as scheduled.

Karsus would whisper to each person before they died, guiding the souls of the deceased to gradually die and seek more profound wisdom after closing their eyes.

In the end, Karthus discovered that he could learn nothing more from mortals. Only the dead could answer his questions.

Although the dead soul cannot tell him what the afterlife is like, there are some fantasy stories and legends used to scare children, telling about a place where death does not mean the end - Shadow Island.

Karsus swept away the money in the temple treasury and collected the travel expenses to go to Bilgewater. The city was being haunted by a strange black mist, which was said to pull people's souls to the cursed island in the distance of the sea.

No captain was willing to take Karthus to the Shadow Isles, but he eventually found a drunken fisherman who was drowning in debt.

The fishing boat sailed in the sea for many days and nights, and finally a storm blew them onto an island that had never been marked on the chart, and got stuck on the rocks on the shore.

A black mist rolled out from the twisted woods and desolate ruins.

The fisherman immediately withdrew the boat from the reef, turned the bow and fled in the direction of Bilgewater, but Karthus jumped off the boat and waded onto the beach.

He held on to his engraved death recorder's staff, barely standing still, and then proudly sang the elegy he composed for his own death. His song drifted into the center of the island along a cold wind.

The black mist continued to drift through Karsus, ravaging his body and soul with ancient spells, but his desire to transcend death was so strong that not even the black mist could completely knock him down.

Instead, the black mist reshaped him, and Karthus was reborn as a disembodied ghost on the island's tidal flats.

Karsus realized his long-held wish and became the existence form he had dreamed of. He stood at the junction of life and death, and at this time he received a new revelation.

A moment became eternity. This beauty amazed him. At the same time, all the other ghosts on the island woke up. Like sharks smelling blood, they were attracted by Karsus' enthusiasm to witness his transformation.

Karthus finally found his home, and all the souls around him understood the true meaning of the blessing of immortality.

Karsus knew that he must return to Valoran and share his gift with the rest of the living, freeing them from their petty worldly concerns.

Karthus turned around, and the black mist carried him over the waves, catching up with the fisherman's boat.

The fisherman knelt before Karsus and begged him for his life, but Karsus gave him the blessing of death, ending his worldly pain and being reborn as an immortal ghost in the elegy of the dead.

The fisherman was the first of many souls to be freed by Karthus, and soon the deathsinger would command an army of undead wraiths.

To Karthus's newly awakened senses, the Shadow Isles existed in a state of unforgiving Styxian limbo, wantonly squandering the blessings of death.

He wants to urge the dead to carry out a holy war, give the beauty of annihilation to the living mortals, end the suffering in the world, and usher in the glorious era of the undead.

Karthus became the emissary of the Shadow Isles, the spokesman of Annihilation, his eulogy praising the glory of death.

His legions of undead would join him in his requiem chorus, and their lingering songs would spread beyond the confines of the Black Mist, echoing in cemeteries and charnel houses across Valoran on cold nights.

The surface of the sea is as calm and dark as a mirror.

The moon that the pirates used for positioning hung low at the junction of the sea and the sky for six consecutive nights, every night.

The air seemed to be frozen, and there was no whisper of the breeze, only the abominable requiem that came from who knows where.

Vionax was an experienced sailor and was familiar with the waters surrounding Noxus, and she knew very well that such calm waters could only spell disaster.

She stood on the front deck of the Dark Thought, scanning the distant ocean with her binoculars, looking for any clues that might be used to identify the direction.

"There's nothing but water around," she said to herself into the night.

“There was no land in sight, no stars that I recognized.

There is not a breath of wind in our sails.The crew paddled forward for several days, but no matter which direction they sailed, they could never see land or see the moon phase change. "

She rubbed her cheek with her palm for a while.She was hungry and thirsty, and the endless darkness made it impossible to accurately estimate how much time had passed.The Dark Thought wasn't even her ship.

She had always been the first mate, but Captain Mattock's head was unfortunately split in half by the Freljord pirates, so she had to step in and take on the captain's duties.

The bodies of the old captain and fifteen other Noxian warriors were placed in sewn hammocks on the main deck.

The growing smell of corpses was their only reliable way to estimate time.

She looked toward the ocean in the distance, and suddenly her eyes widened in horror. She saw black mist rising from the water.

There were vaguely discernible shadows floating in the mist, and sharp claws and huge mouths flashed past.The hateful requiem sounded from the sea again, now louder, mixed with the soul-shaking death knell.

"It's the black mist," she said. "Everyone gather on the deck!"

She turned and jumped down to the main deck, running to the wheel on the aft deck.

Although she couldn't make the ship move under any circumstances, if she didn't stand next to the steering wheel at this time, it would almost be enough to be punished by God.The crew staggered from the cabin to the deck, and the elegy lingering in their ears was singing about the lost souls. Although Vionax's spine shivered with fear, the poetry in the elegy still moved her.

Tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks, not from fear, but from endless sadness.

"Let me end your sorrow."

The voice in her head was cold and dead, the voice of the dead.This sound will bring to mind a picture of a cart full of corpses on iron-clad wheels, and the knife carved another mark of death on the cane.

Vionax knew the legend of the Black Mist, and she knew not to approach the island shrouded in darkness to the east.She thought her ship was far away from the Shadow Isles, but she was wrong.

Black mist rolled over the ship's railings, followed by howls and screams of the undead.

The wraiths passed above them like the chorus of a death chorus, and the crew of the Dark Thought saw them and all screamed in horror.

Vionax took out her pistol, cocked it and pulled the bolt, when a figure emerged from the mist;

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a tattered coat, like a priest from ancient times, but his shoulders and dry skull were all armed like a warrior.There was a book tied with an iron chain around his waist, and he held a long cane in his hand, the grip of which was densely engraved with counting symbols.The tip of the cane shone with a ghostly light, and in his other hand a will-o'-the-wisp burned like a fallen star.

"Why are you crying?" the figure asked. "I am Karsus, and I have brought you a big gift."

"I don't want your gift," Vionax said, pulling the trigger.Flames erupted from the barrel.This shot hit the terrifying resentful spirit, but the bullet passed directly through without causing any damage.