Countless tens of thousands of years ago, the dwarf race occupied this place. Their greedy hearts led them to excavate almost every inch of land beneath the Doomsday Mountains. The caves here far surpassed human imagination, interconnected in all directions, more intricate and variable than an anthill. Even after the dwarves became extinct, many human adventurers entered, only to become lost in the endless caverns and join the countless undead within.
Legend claimed this place connected to the underworld hell.
Thus, those who committed grave crimes on the continent were exiled here, tasked with eternally guarding the evil spirits that escaped from the underworld hell.
They were called tomb guardians.
To many, tomb guardians seemed the most tragic existence, yet this was not entirely true. The underground world was harsh, but not wholly shrouded in darkness. Over countless years, generation after generation of tomb guardians built one underground village after another.
When the Castro Continent suffered the Great Catastrophe and demons began to rampage freely, the haunted caves instead became a pure land in the eyes of countless people.
There were no true evil spirits in the haunted caves, only undead that wandered almost everywhere. Immortal, they had evolved some intelligence over endless ages, forming a peculiar undead race in the underground caverns.
They forgot their past lives and began anew.
The underground mines became their home.
Tomb guardians were regarded as friendly companions by them.
So when evil demons attempted to enter the underground mines, the undead repelled them. Though demons were terrifying, under the endless onslaught of undead, they often perished miserably.
The old emperor, the old guard, Lass, Stari, Ilabesha, Mishar, and the blonde girl Dakins were now at the deepest part of the haunted mine cave.
It was said to be the very bottom of the world. Streams of lava occasionally flowed beneath their feet. Even the oldest tomb guardian had never reached such depths.
At the lowest point lay an undead village. The village chief was unfriendly to outsiders, but fortunately, the death spirit Mishar, whose state was nearly identical to the undead, successfully won their favour. They agreed to help search for the group’s target. The undead guide was named Dika, appearing as a young man, though undead appearances revealed nothing of their true age. In Dika’s own words, he was only four hundred and fifty years old, still young…
The group stumbled forward, constantly enduring lava heat waves and the unpleasant sulphur stench in the underground tunnels.
“I’m the pirate king, not the bandit king, and certainly not the cave king. Coming to this wretched place is utterly unbearable…” Stari complained incessantly along the way. At first, the others could respond or comfort him, but gradually they lost the energy.
“It’s just ahead. I believe that’s your destination.” The harsh underground conditions caused no discomfort to the undead Dika. He even relished the foul atmosphere and stench. At that moment, he spoke cheerfully. “If the underworld hell truly exists, then that great lake ahead must be its final entrance.”
“Lake?” The swelteringly hot group felt a brief sense of coolness at the word. Yet when they looked at the lake Dika indicated, they all sighed helplessly once more.
The lake was a vast expanse of magma.
At such depths underground, how could any water source possibly remain?
“Is this the deepest part of the haunted mine cave?” the old emperor murmured to himself. Old and frail, he should never have endured this journey, but during their days lost in Grey Town with the old guard and Lass, Grayton had not merely guarded them. He had steadily improved their physiques, awaiting the prophecy’s fulfilment. Thus, the old emperor’s once-obese body was now robust enough, with even a few black strands regrowing at his temples.
Supporting one another, the group reached the edge of the vast magma lake. Scorching heat waves made breathing nearly impossible. They felt on the verge of collapse, as if every drop of moisture in their bodies would evaporate.
“There seems to be something in the magma…” Ilabesha squinted towards the huge magma lake. At its very centre, a statue faintly stood.
“That statue…” The group squinted for a while, then suddenly turned in surprise towards Dakins beside them.
The statue… appeared exactly like Dakins.
Dakins was utterly stunned. “Why is there a statue of me here… Ah, no, it’s the statue of the Destruction Goddess!”
“That statue is our destination. To open the entrance to the Sin Continent, Dakins must touch it,” Lass said excitedly.
“But how do we cross?” The old guard frowned at the bubbling magma.
He noticed some creature lurking within, glaring menacingly at those on the shore, revealing only a pair of fierce eyes.
A magma creature.
The closer one got to the lake’s centre, the higher the temperature rose. In the vast open space above, thunderbolts would continuously strike down…
Dakins was the Destruction Goddess, wielding destruction rules and dual command over thunder and fire. Approaching her statue required enduring the baptism of flame and lightning.
Yet at that moment, the group fell suddenly silent. They were silent because they marvelled at and praised destiny.
Leaping directly across was impossible, so they would row. Floating stone blocks dotted the magma lake, usable as boats to slowly approach the statue.
This demanded exceptional piloting skill, hence the presence of pirate king Stari and Ilabesha.
Thunderbolts fell without cease; Lass, with his lightning body, could shield everyone from harm.
Lurking flame creatures in the magma could be fended off by the half-step sword saint old guard.
The old king could remain on shore, directing their course.
Their earning the undead village’s trust owed everything to the death spirit Mishar.
Their meetings, their journey – all were chosen by destiny.
“Then let us begin at once!” Lass declared.
They selected the largest, flattest stone block, treating it as a magma raft. The group carefully boarded, leaving only undead Dika, the old king, and Mishar on shore.
Stari and Ilabesha each gripped a massive, heavy iron pole to propel the raft forward.
The old guard stood sword drawn on one side, guarding against magma assaults.
Lass constantly watched the sporadic thunderbolts falling from above, ready to intercept them with his body and safeguard his companions.
The group encircled Dakins protectively.
The magma raft began its slow advance towards the centre.
“Left, left, a little more left… Careful, floating rock ahead…”
