Chapter 611 27. The Future of the Undead (Part 2)
The realm of death, a mysterious place, is a place where the living cannot enter, and it is the destination of the dead.
It is like "hell" in the traditional sense, but in fact it is more complicated than hell. It seems to be a world with another set of rules, which hangs over the real world. After certain conditions are met, it Connect with the real world again.
14 months ago, after Tyrion sniped and killed the great demon Archimonde, he was surrounded by the two death gods of Azeroth. "Pull" into the realm of death, and really have a mysterious "connection" with that world.
And now, this weak and unique undead standing in front of Tyrion was revived in northern Xinjiang after Tyrion came into contact with the Realm of Death. Anyone with basic logical thinking ability will recognize these two Once, Tyrion thought that before he really figured out the mysteries of the Realm of Death, that world would not affect reality. Now it seems that his understanding was wrong.
Since he entered that world, the realm of death has been affecting reality, but he didn't notice it.
"Come on, sit down and talk."
Tyrion snapped his fingers, and several beautifully dressed undead maids brought chairs and a dining table for Jeffrey Dylan, while the fat chef Lal, who had prepared earlier, wore a flamboyantly dressed With a chef's robe mixed with white and gold, and a tall chef's hat, he pushed the dining cart into the room, quickly placed several "dishes" that the great lord liked very much on the table, and served them to the guests graciously. A bowl of antler soup with added ingredients.
The great lord sat across from Jeffrey in a very relaxed posture. He raised his legs, put his hands on the armrests of the chair, and held a half glass of wine in his hand. He watched Jeffrey carefully taste the dishes, watched Those "surprised" expressions on the skinny face of this free undead.
For any undead, the temporary restoration of the sense of taste is a pleasant thing. With the food and wine set off, the previous fear of the powerful power of the great lord disappeared unconsciously. .
While the guests from afar were tasting delicious food, Tyrion was carefully observing this "free" undead with a cold but not perfunctory smile.
In Tyrion's view, the death energy in Jeffrey Dylan's body was as weak as a firefly in the wind. The death energy was only maintaining the movement of Jeffrey's body and ensuring that his body would not Rotten, completely unusable for combat, to be honest, this is the first time Tyrion has seen such a weak undead.
But there is a nearly complete soul hidden in this undead's weak body. His soul integrity is almost comparable to the high-level knight of Dark Blade, and it is easy to see that this undead still maintains "emotion". And...he seems to be slightly different from the undead of Dark Blade. His inner obsession doesn't seem to be serious, at least not so serious that it will affect his soul.
In other words... Except for the dead body, Jeffrey Dylan is almost a complete "person", as if a not-so-fresh human soul was stuffed into a dead body the same.
"Well..."
After wolfing down the last piece of deer steak seasoned with spider venom, Jeffrey Dylan let out a contented groan. He picked up the tablecloth, wiped his mouth, and said to the great lord in front of him:
"Sweet and bitter, my God, I haven't experienced such a fresh taste for many years... just this big meal, in my opinion, this trip is worthwhile, thank you for your hospitality, High Lord , thank you for your kindness."
"Um..."
Tyrion didn't answer right away, his eyes were fixed on Dylan's body, and in his spiritual vision, he could clearly see that the food that Jeffrey had eaten was under the movement of the weak death energy in his body , was slowly "digested", and after digestion, the death energy in Dylan's body actually became thicker...Damn it! These weird undead can actually become stronger by "eating"...
"What is the principle of this?"
Tyrion grunted, then reopened the topic, looked at Geoffrey, and asked softly:
"Then, let me guess, Dylan, you should not be the soul living in this era, and your body is not your original body, right?"
Facing this question, Jeffrey Dylan nodded calmly, his gray eyes were beating with light of thought, and he said:
"I should be... Well, according to the current calendar, I should be born 225 years before the Dark Portal, and died of a plague that spread across Stratholme 165 years before the Dark Portal. I am A ghost who lived 200 years ago, but for some reason is resurrected in this era."
While talking, he patted his relatively complete body, and said with some self-mockery:
"And this body... is indeed not my body. In fact, when I struggled to open the rotten coffin and wash my body by the lake, I realized that I was "resurrected" in another body .And I'm lucky. In the town of Hermann, at least one-third of the residents' bodies are broken... We can't find a "doctor" for the undead, and we don't know how to fix it Broken body."
"Well, that sounds awful."
Tyrion took a sip of the blood wine and said to Geoffrey:
"But Dark Blade has a complete set of repair methods for the body of the undead. If you trust us, when you leave, I can send a team of psychics who are proficient in medical treatment to go back with you, and some specially for the undead. The chef who serves...eating is just a pastime for the Darkblade, but it seems it has a unique "meaning" to you."
"Then I thank you for your generosity on behalf of my people, High Lord."
Geoffrey stood up and bowed slightly to Tyrion, while the High Lord waved his hand, he was silent for a few seconds, he looked at Geoffrey:
"I guess, the reason why you are willing to come to Stormwind City with Rogge is not just to satisfy your own curiosity, right?"
"Yes."
Dylan nodded frankly again. Talking to this guy made Tyrion feel very comfortable, just like chatting with a human being with a complete personality, and the exact same life form of the two also added to the chat. At least in the serious and old-fashioned Dark Blade Legion, Tyrion couldn't find such a good chatter.
Jeffrey looked at the formidable ice blue eyes of the great lord, he hesitated for a moment, and then asked:
"What I want to know is... Is the birth of us, the forgotten ones, related to you? Are you our... creator? Or, the creator?"
"Why do you think so?"
Tyrion drank the blood wine in the glass. He put the glass on the table, folded his hands on his chest, and looked at Jeffrey:
"Why do you have such thoughts?"
"Because...because at the moment I just recovered, there were still some special "pictures" left in my unclear thinking."
Jeffrey rubbed the skin on his dry forehead. This was probably the way he thought when he was still alive. He said in a daze:
"That should be what my soul saw in hell... The remaining memories, in fact, not just me, many recovered forgotten people have such memories, just some fragments, but in those fragments, There is a vague, but existence of a figure holding a black fire long sword..."
Dylan looked at Tyrion, with undisguised expectation and apprehension in his gray eyes:
"That's you, isn't it? You fought in hell to free our souls from the bondage of that dark place...resurrected in this land in the same life form as you...many Forgotten believe Our resurrection is to shoulder a certain mission... I came to Stormwind City to meet you, just to figure out this mission! We..."
"Why are dead people like us born?"
Geoffrey's question kept Tyrion silent for several minutes, and finally, under the gaze of the mayor of the Forgotten, Tyrion spread his fingers outward, and the screaming evil sword, the soul sword Apocalypse appeared in his palm Here, in the entanglement of black flames, Apocalypse finally became the appearance that terrified the spirits.
"Is that what you remember...is it?"
Tyrion placed the apocalypse horizontally in the air in front of him, the dancing black flame did not feel any burning sensation, on the contrary, the surrounding air became cold as the flame danced.
At the moment when he saw the apocalypse, Jeffrey stood up excitedly from the chair, staring at the burning bone sword in front of him, and finally, he sincerely put his hands on his chest and stood alone in front of Tyrion. Kneeling on his knees, he lowered his head, just like a mortal worshiping under the gods, he said in a sincere voice:
"Ah, the Creator of the Forgotten...I...we finally found you, please tell us...please tell us, the mission of the Forgotten Ones? Please make our recovery...be useful significance."
Looking at the undead of the Forsaken kneeling on the ground in front of him, Tyrion's eyes became cold, and he said in a deep voice:
"I still don't know the connection between your birth and me, but if you are really born because of me, then I don't want to see my family members bow down before anyone...stand up!"
Jeffrey Dylan stood up immediately, and he lowered his head in fear until the great lord's cold palm was placed on his shoulder:
"First of all, you are free, remember this, no one will be your master, if there is a guy who claims this in front of you... then do what I said, give him a hard knife !"
"Secondly, the appearance of the Forgotten has filled one of my long-standing regrets. Dylan, I created the civilization of the Federation by myself. I hope to see all races working hard for a great goal, but in the system of the Federation , and there is no undead civilization...you know what you want to say, but listen to me..."
Tyrion retracted the humming apocalypse, he spread his arms in front of Jeffrey Dylan, and he said like a dreamer:
"You want to say that there are Dark Blade Undead in the federal system, but a civilization cannot rely on a group of soldiers. Yes, in my eyes, the Dark Blade Legion is very powerful, but it cannot be called a civilization... We are soldiers, we are fighters, we are weapons...but we are not civilizations!"
"A civilization should have a free enough soul, enough wisdom to maintain its own existence, and be able to reproduce naturally without the interference of external forces... None of these three points are satisfied, this is my regret, undead, one-handed It is a very regrettable fact that the undead who created the federal civilization did not have their own civilization, and your appearance...Dylan, your appearance has filled this regret."
The great lord looked at the Forsaken in front of him with clear eyes, and said:
"Your souls are free and unfettered. Although your individuals are weak, you have enough and complete wisdom. When I didn't notice, you have multiplied into settlements. Although this multiplication The process is different from other lives, but it doesn't matter, I see the future of the undead from you...Forgotten...This name is not very good, you will call yourself "undead"...you will become Under the federal system, the real undead civilization! You must reproduce your own civilization!"
"You look to me for the meaning of your existence? This is the meaning of your existence! Create and develop your own civilization, use your own existence to fulfill the creed of the cycle of life and death, and together with the living, create a glorious and endless world for the Federation. Endless future...this is your mission."
"This is the mission of the undead! Starting today..."
Tyrion's tone became low, and he stretched out his left hand to Jeffrey Dylan:
"Starting today, maybe a little later, the undead will be on the stage of the world... Are you ready?"
Jeffrey Dylan looked at the left hand stretched out in front of him by the great lord, he was a little afraid, but Tyrion's deafening speech made him see a future road in a daze, which was different from what he had imagined. The Creator's speech was somewhat different. He thought that Tyrion would force them to join his legion, but now, Tyrion gave them the right to choose freely...
but maybe...
Jeffrey carefully looked at Tyrion Dawnblade in front of him, then reached out and held Tyrion together.
Perhaps this is what the Creator should really be like... At least such a dark blade lord is more like a leader worth relying on and following than the indifferent gods described in the scriptures.
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Tyrion stood by the window of the mansion, watching the back of Jeffrey Dylan leaving under the leadership of Rogelio, he asked softly:
"What do you think is going on here?"
"There is no doubt that the influence of the Realm of Death on the present world is increasing, and I guess that because of your frequent contact with it, that plane is "closer" to the present world."
Behind the high lord, Shadow Valgri Agatha said:
"The appearance of the undead may just be the appearance of this influence."
"Anhelder, what do you think?"
Tyrion asked again:
"You are trusted by Hela, have you learned the rules of the realm of death from her?"
On the other side of the great lord, there is another Val'kyr, but compared to Agatha, she is larger in size, and her armor is more complicated and gorgeous. Blade Valkyrie leader shook her head, she said in a hoarse voice:
"Hela will never tell us this, but... if you have to make a guess, then I think that the appearance of these undead is because of the dementors you killed in the realm of death... Dementors feed on the negative emotions of the soul, but in the face of this monster, those weak souls are irresistible, they will be absorbed whole into the body of the dementor, a dementor body that has lived long enough It will bind many, many weak souls."
"You killed those monsters, so those dazed souls followed the path you came from and appeared in this world, so they think you are their creator, which is actually true..."
"Well, interesting."
Rubbing his chin, Tyrion said to the two Val'kyr behind him:
"Then go find it, Anhelder, Agatha, take your sisters, and search for these newborn undead throughout the entire eastern continent."
"Look for my family members and bring them to the Federation... It may take a long time for the undead civilization to be born, but it doesn't matter..."
"I can afford to wait for the real future of the undead."