Prelude

***

The white light surging around the Paladin rapidly expanded, his figure becoming even taller and more imposing, radiant and dazzling to the point that it was difficult to look directly at him. The final appearance he revealed left the Lich in a state of uncontrollable disarray in the wind—The Arbiter, the Protector of the Law, the embodiment of the God of Justice and Righteousness, Tyrael. His thunderous voice descended from above like solidified lava, striking the Lich's skull: "In the name of the God of Gods, you shall be redeemed for your selfless good deeds"

"No matter what you reached out for." The paladin said solemnly, "In the name of Tyre, I swear you shall receive my gratitude"

The paladin let out a low roar, dispelling the negative effects brought about by the last long and cold venomous breath of the reaper. Subsequently, he had to confront one of the most troublesome matters in this realm where nothing is impossible—an egg-laying stone surrounded by over five hundred giant toads. From this egg-laying stone of the local creatures of the chaotic sea, a stream of chaotic fluid would emerge. The giant toads could identify these fluids and swim upstream, gathering around the egg-laying stone to spawn and fertilize. Their will could even gradually expand a tabletop-sized egg-laying stone into a continent. However, the actions of the giant toads could sometimes cause the chaotic fluid growing with the egg-laying stone to transform into a massive chaotic storm. Worst of all, the deceased giant toads would become guardians of the egg-laying stone, stubborn, fierce, and nearly indestructible stone sentinels that would shred any creature or non-creature daring to harm the source of the storm—accompanied by raging hurricanes, countless flames, ashes, shattered stones, gravel, hail, and even condensed energy... From this small continent, which had essentially formed its own system, it would madly spew forth towards the external orderly beings, resembling a grand yet chaotically sequenced multi-material meteor shower.

The events have already transpired, and no amount of blame or regret will be of any use. Moreover, after being a Lich for so many years, he has become quite unaccustomed to speaking... He would rather revisit all the spells that torment the soul, allowing that foolish individual to understand the true meaning of being undead... If only he could.

Damn Thiel

The only place of tranquility and safety in the Sea of Chaos, the monastery of the Seris people, with its distinctive bluish-gray rocks and simply arranged, clean rooms, revealed to him where he was. The air flowed gently, and the lich sensed that he was instinctively breathing softly, his heart beating rhythmically, and blood flowing through his veins

Thus, these favored ones of the Chaos Sea seldom encounter such formidable foes—a paladin clad in a coarse gray cloak. Perhaps due to his prolonged stay in the Chaos Sea, his garments are tattered and worn, with his only equipment being a dull yet tightly woven chainmail and a plain longsword. However, this does not diminish his high fighting spirit and formidable combat prowess. Clearly more reliable than his appearance, the double-edged sword repeatedly meets the dragging, grayish gleam of the scythe without hesitation. As his wounds increase in frequency, akin to the changes of the Chaos Sea, the fearless outsider causes more and more small wounds to accumulate on the white skeleton. Although some of these heal almost instantly, more cracks connect together, forming a dangerous fine web. The pale bones emit an ominous groan, and the reaper feels fear—often a sensation they impose upon others. The premonition of demise instills a desire to retreat, yet he hesitates due to the twisted command of the Chaos Sea, which forces him to execute the death of orderly beings. Ultimately, a faint, peculiar sound reminiscent of weeping makes the decision for him—the Entropy Reaper abandons his mission and activates a planar teleportation spell, usable only once a day, vanishing before the overly eager enemy.

The skull in the hood turned left and right, and the skeleton took a step back: "Goo—," it said in confusion: "A request? ... um, say thank you?"

Then a white light emanated from his body, much dimmer than that of the paladin, yet softer in nature. The sudden change startled the lich, and the airflow in the cramped space became tense, controlling the paladin's movements like a shackle.

The grip on his arm had relaxed, and before the wide sleeves of the gray robe fell back down, the paladin's keen eyesight had already caught sight of that pale skeletal hand. Its shape resembled that of a human, but it was evident that human fingers have at most three phalanges, unlike the four he now observed. This indicated that the undead creature before him had been transformed from an elf or a half-elf with a strong elven lineage. This discovery would astonish even the deities; since the fall of the magical empire, there had been almost no sightings of liches transformed from elves. Even the great liches, who were elves that had fallen and been corrupted by demons, were rare. What a strange term it was; relevant written records could likely only be found in the most ancient and secretive libraries on the continent, protected by a semi-stagnant time and space.

Crossing over, damn crossing over, perhaps some would drool over this opportunity, but for a family-oriented person, a park ten miles away is already another world. ... The soul fluctuated in distress for a while ... ... Its memories are very chaotic, it remembers its father, mother, computer, and the internet. ... ... ... A soft and warm bed ... ... Five or six large roses clustered together extending from the fence. ... ... ... Its memories are very chaotic, it remembers its father, mother, computer, and the internet. ... ... ... A soft and warm bed ... ... Five or six large roses clustered together extending from the fence. ... ... ... Fried chicken, beer, cigarettes ... ... Weibo. ... ... ... Countless books and information ... ? ... But it has lost itself, male? female? age? background? preferences? Why is it here? Most importantly, its own name—who is it?

Indeed, the once-undying responded gloomily: "There will always be a way."

The Seris Zen Monastery is not a place favored by evildoers. The Lich was pleased that he still had a teleportation scroll stored in his dimensional bag. Before using the scroll, he closed his eyes, contemplating the familiar place he wished to go to

For a long time, the reapers born from the Sea of Chaos—a type of undead creature capable of housing a small family of giant toads within their skeletal frames—have existed as the chief executioners of this chaotic plane. They are immune to mental attacks, reduce most spell damage, possess immense strength, and exhibit remarkable agility. Most importantly, they can appear anywhere within the ever-changing Sea of Chaos without the need for a locking force field... searching for any neck suitable for that intangible giant scythe. Any creature struck by this chaotic weapon, designed to bypass damage reduction, will inevitably suffer continuous torment under the intimidation of chaotic power. Most importantly, they can appear anywhere within the ever-changing Sea of Chaos without the need for a locking force field... searching for any neck suitable for that intangible giant scythe. Any creature struck by this chaotic weapon, designed to bypass damage reduction, will inevitably suffer continuous torment under the intimidation of chaotic power... until they can no longer endure, surrender, disintegrate, and become a minuscule part of the chaos.

The text appears to be incomplete or consists solely of symbols. Please provide a complete sentence or phrase for translation.

Here, he was able to return to his most beloved state—a complete and polished skeletal frame, almost merging with the sea of consciousness, suspended emptily in mid-air in a gray robe, with tiny crimson dots like needle tips dancing in his eye sockets—maliciously gazing at that despicable and shameless intruder, thief, useless waste, and filth

LICH, approximately ten days ago, this term was still quite unfamiliar to it, as it is not particularly fond of games. The only impression it had came from a pop-up advertisement on the web—surrounded by thunder and petals, ... it is said to be a skeleton with a penchant for wearing skirts ... . ... Little did it expect that one day it would share a body with a true lich.

The Lich once again turned his gaze towards the endless darkness

Foolish thief

The Port of尖颚 in the Azores

The dimensional bag used to conceal important items still hung in its usual place at the waist, and the protective amber ring on the little finger remained intact not far away. The diadem inlaid with black opal was properly maintaining its original invisible state, stuck on the head. Glancing to the side, a unicorn horn staff, with a tip concealing spotted indigo stone, lay quietly beside its master... The lich could temporarily confirm that he had not encountered any losses... The diadem inlaid with black opal was properly maintaining its original invisible state, stuck on the head. Glancing to the side, a unicorn horn staff, with a tip concealing spotted indigo stone, lay quietly beside its master... The lich could temporarily confirm that he had not encountered any losses... No, he thought gloomily, I have lost a gray robe, and the freedom to wander around intimidating humans with a body full of bones.

In the hollow eye sockets of the undead, tiny red dots flickered momentarily. The paladin could sense a faint, elusive feeling of joy flowing through his body. This lich was still quite young; he did not even understand how to conceal his emotions, or rather, he still possessed emotions. The aged warrior lamented his misguided choices, his gaze growing more resolute: "State your request. Then, in the name of Tyre, I shall fulfill your wish and liberate your soul, which has not yet fully fallen." He did not even understand how to conceal his emotions, or rather, he still possessed emotions. The aged warrior lamented his misguided choices, his gaze growing more resolute: "State your request. Then, in the name of Tyre, I shall fulfill your wish and liberate your soul, which has not yet fully fallen."

Although the time spent together was short and there is not much understanding, the soul knows that this skeletal gentleman is quite satisfied with being categorized as a special type of lich belonging to the evil alignment of the Order of the Undead. For him, redemption may not be much better than being cut down... Since the appearance of Tyre's avatar, he has remained silent until now, except for the screams during the checks. In short, he appears somewhat pitiful, a disillusioned youth forced to face the reality of his shattered ideals

The law has confirmed its inseparable connection with this brand new body, having gained recognition in this dimension, and it is no longer a fragment that can be casually discarded

Evidently, fate has plunged into a complete hysteria akin to a chaotic sea. The bewilderment and helplessness of the lich were misinterpreted by the avatar of Tyr as a reaction of excitement and shock at returning to the light. He solemnly raised his remaining arm, and the warm, grave, and unyielding power of the god of just law pressed down upon the undead's body like an overturned ocean. The positive energy contained within roared, expelling all negative energy from the lich's being, and then naturally took over their functions. Meanwhile, far away, the gem of life twisted, shattered, and turned to dust, while the essence of life, carefully hidden within, was forced to revert to its own body—under the divine call, the enhanced resilience check received at the moment of death joyfully descended once more, beginning to slowly erode the lich's will and spirit. What a rare second experience, the lich thought mockingly. The indescribable pain entwined every thread of memory and thought accumulated over hundreds of years, pounding, grinding, meticulously searching for any possible gap, inescapable and unbearable. Until all checks had perfectly concluded, the undead was still exerting every effort, emitting the most tragic screams with body and soul. He sensed a voice nearby pleading for him to stop, but the lich maliciously chose to ignore it. Although he knew that this excessively long and profound torture had indeed come to an end, as an evil undead being, it was only reasonable to collect some interest for the harm and torment he had endured. As for whether the other party should be responsible for his suffering, well, that was not within the lich's considerations.

As he awkwardly controlled this body to sit up, he realized that he was wearing a pure white linen robe, the kind most favored by the priests of Tyr. It still bore a faint trace of divine power—just Tyr, perhaps you should also engrave a balance or a warhammer on my forehead (the holy emblem of Tyr is a balance placed upon a warhammer), so as to better reflect the value of this memento—for the first time, and perhaps the last, of chaotic actions during the long time before, during, and after your birth.

There will always be a way, it comforted him

The God of Gods of Alzheimer's Disease

The soul from another realm was unaware of the true intentions of the lich. It felt regret, yet it dared to swear by the more than 200 figurines it cherished (though it could not recall their appearances) that this was entirely subconscious... There was an old man; it could not bear to see him swept away or torn apart by the storm—until the gentle white light dispelled the darkness, and the relevant knowledge forcibly filled into its mind by the lich finally completed its display—everything was too late.

He opened his eyes—oh, now he has eyes, complete with the eyeball wall, the inner cavity and its contents, nerves, blood vessels, and the eyelids and eyelashes that protect them—the lich blinked, and the scene before him transformed from blurry to clear

Soon, the frenzied giant toad breeding ground shattered a solitary patch of the sea surface like a true stone and quickly departed, as if the aftershocks of a crying voice dissipated completely after a while. What it left behind was a vast strip of area that appeared remarkably "clean" compared to other places in this chaotic dimension, although it would soon be filled with more chaotic matter. For now, it resembled a trace left by a finger on a dusty tabletop, and because of this, the only thing remaining in that space stood out conspicuously. What it left behind was a vast strip of area that appeared remarkably "clean" compared to other places in this chaotic dimension, although it would soon be filled with more chaotic matter. For now, it resembled a trace left by a finger on a dusty tabletop, and because of this, the only thing remaining in that space stood out conspicuously

The reaper's anger is extraordinary

Previously, it had hardly any time to contemplate these matters, let alone any special abilities or additional benefits. It didn't even have the opportunity to experience the confusion or joy of those cannon fodder traversers, and in the blink of an eye, it found itself transformed into Mario, the iconic character known for growing by eating mushrooms. Mario is characterized by his large nose, cap, overalls, and mustache. Alongside his twin brother Luigi, he has long served as a flagship character for Nintendo, reminiscent of the classic Famicom... The final level is akin to that of a god among gods, where the challenges are not merely a few small animals subjected to petrification spells, but rather countless hurricanes, torrential rains, thunderstorms, hail, flames, rocks, small or large land masses, oceans, forests, and ruins... The one to be saved is not a weak and helpless princess, but rather an evil undead whose magical powers are nearly depleted, and who is also quite irritable. However, this point is entirely understandable for an outsider... Victims of violent robbery and illegal occupation certainly do not possess any, uh, good spirits—even if it is merely a skeleton... or a skeleton that could be destroyed at any moment— it has no memory of spells whatsoever, even with the Lich, bound deep within the sea of consciousness, exerting all efforts to teach (accompanied by sharp reprimands and painful curses). Ultimately, the spells it can use remain few and far between... Before this, the poor Lich's more than three hundred bones had already been ruthlessly ravaged by the unpredictable chaos of the sea.

It is not that the Lich truly wishes to surrender his body to the control of this detestable fool—rather, he must spend precious time in quiet meditation to regain his ability to cast spells. He believes there should be one or more spells in his spellbook capable of dragging this vile maggot out of his body and slowly crushing it—if it were not for that accursed chaos storm

The originally smiling face instantly turned serious, as the paladin was engulfed in pure flames, especially on the forehead, as if a sun were stored within the skull

The distance between the upper and lower jaws of the skeletal frame gradually increases. If he were still a human, we might describe it as "a dragon egg could fit in his mouth." Redemption, of course, he knows what "redemption" means, and he can spell and pronounce it perfectly, but the relationship between him and that word should end here, shouldn't it

The sea of consciousness of the undead is dark and tranquil

The soul, which emitted a milky white and cornflower blue glow, slightly swayed its blurred outline, striving to diminish its presence yet finding it difficult to succeed. It cautiously cast a glance at the skeleton floating gracefully against the black backdrop—a lich that, even with only a stark white skeletal frame and a rag-colored sheet, could evoke an atmosphere of Gothic art.

It silently retreated into the darkness untouched by light, the faintly raised outline of its snow-white skull appearing particularly clear in the shadow of the hood. "He" gazed at the light, seemingly not harboring the same hatred for the unattainable as other undead beings. Subtle, fleeting emotional fluctuations were keenly captured by the paladin—there was no greed, no envy, no anger, no desire, only a peaceful softness, and beyond that, a childlike vivid curiosity and a hint of eagerness. If it were not for the pure negative energy that could almost be solidified, the savior might have believed that within this decayed and filthy corpse lay a pure soul yet untouched by sin—this was, in fact, absolutely impossible.

A small, quiet, comfortable, yet dark space

The paladin's aged face revealed an expression of disbelief. Indeed, it was a subtle and simple detection, merely to ensure that he would not be misled or exploited by the lich's lies. Yet even he did not expect that there would truly be an undead being, pure and selflessly saving lives other than its own. This nearly overturned the definition of liches that had persisted for thousands of years, whether in the depths of the Nine Hells or in the blessed realm of Elysium. There truly exists an undead being, pure and selflessly saving lives other than its own. This nearly overturned the definition of liches that had persisted for thousands of years, whether in the depths of the Nine Hells or in the blessed realm of Elysium