Walking Death —what exactly is that?
Robbie had long anticipated the dangers of the space between life and death, attributing them to its perilous environment.
As for Bwonsamdi, Robbie, possessing the Power of the Holy Light, was confident he could handle him.
Ten thousand years later, the Zandalari Empire was far less glorious than it is now. Bwonsamdi, ten thousand years later, was the most outstanding of the Loa, arguably the foremost among them.
However, in this era, among the hundreds of Loa of the Zandalari Empire, his power was not outstanding.
The Sundering, the continent was torn apart, and regardless of the truth, this was destined to happen.
At least 90% of life on Earth was wiped out. It is estimated that Bwonsamdi gained countless souls and immense power during this catastrophe, laying the foundation for his later rise to power.
The small boat moved slowly, and for some reason, Robbie felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of that "Walking Death."
Now, the only option is to try and extract as much information as possible from this ancient being.
Robbie said with great concern, "I must warn you, the outside world is dangerous, full of savage killing. In my opinion, it's not advisable to go out now. A calamity is about to befall Azeroth."
The ancient creature slowly steered the boat, nodded, and said, "You are very honest. The Walking Death also said that the End Time of Azeroth is coming, a cataclysmic event."
"The End Time?" Robbie heard the familiar term again and quickly asked, "How does the Walking Death evaluate the End Time?"
The ancient creature showed caution and said hesitantly:
"It cannot be spoken of, cannot be remembered, cannot be described; all who experience this moment will forget it. Mortals who witness the End Time will turn to ashes, their souls annihilated; slightly stronger beings will fall into the Abyss of despair, their bodies and souls severely twisted."
Robbie gasped; this sentiment coincided with Queen Azshara's.
You cannot look directly at a god, nor can you remember a god's actions, so the End Times are related to a certain god.
Robbie suppressed his curiosity and earnestly explained to the ancient creature the balance between Holy Light and the Power of the Dead.
The ancient creature listened silently, a look of surprise on its face. For it, whose body was filled with the aura of the dead, Holy Light was the most terrifying poison. Over the years, it had tried every means to escape, but it never expected that the real Antidote would be poison.
The ancient creature would never have believed it if it hadn't witnessed Robbie display the Power of the Holy Light firsthand.
"There's still time." The ancient being was clearly composed. "I know that comprehending the Holy Light is difficult. Countless years of solitude have forged my strong resilience. I intend to spend five thousand years balancing the Holy Light and death."
"Five thousand years?" Robbie thought to himself, "You're just lazy."
"There's really no rush. I can take my time to comprehend it." The ancient creature revealed a lazy expression. "Anyway, there's plenty of time. If five thousand years isn't enough, then eight thousand. In any case, I will definitely leave, I swear."
"What are your plans after you leave?" Robbie asked.
"Plans?" The ancient creature pondered for a moment, then blushed.
"Of course, it's about finding excellent females to reproduce. Our race can mate with any female creature, and the offspring will follow the female's appearance and bloodline, only inheriting my special talent—the ability to control the Power of Death. This is a helpless evolution and choice, after all, this world has changed and is no longer suitable for our race to survive."
Imagining the future, the ancient creatures soon began to have imaginative ideas:
"I don't like Bwonsamdi's appearance; his fangs are too big. I want to find females without fangs or horns to breed with. Haha, perhaps my descendants will become Kings, occupying vast lands and ruling over countless people. I've already decided; the royal city will be called Shadow City, to commemorate my endless years of solitary life."
"Why not call it Undercity?" Robbie asked casually.
"Undercity?" The ancient creature pondered, then exclaimed in surprise, "I must say, this name is far better than Shadow City. I've decided, my descendants' royal city will be called Undercity."
"Can't you have some backbone? Don't be so easily swayed," Robbie thought to himself with disdain.
Undercity? By the way, what's your relationship with Arthas?
Could this ancient creature be Arthas's ancestor?
Robbie scratched his head, thinking to himself, "There must be a reason why Arthas was born with the Power of Death."
"You've helped me a lot, and I don't like owing favors." The ancient creature thought for a moment:
"I'll tell you the origins of the Walking Death. It happened a long time ago, when Bwonsamdi sought refuge here. He told me that something terrible had happened outside: an army of gods had descended from the sky, annihilating all living things wherever they went. The entire continent was engulfed in flames of war, and countless souls were entering the Death Realm from here. Bwonsamdi dared not touch those souls; he told me that these souls were counted, and not a single one could be lost. To be honest, I didn't quite understand what Bwonsamdi meant."
Robbie thought to himself: I don't understand either.
"Then came the Walking Death, arriving with souls shattered into pieces." The ancient creature spoke of this great being with an expression of awe.
"It took him a long time to piece his fragmented soul back together, and he's been lingering here ever since. Be careful when you see him; Bwonsamdi is the only friend of the Walking Death. Bwonsamdi likes to pose riddles, and if you answer incorrectly, you'll be swallowed by the Walking Death."
"What questions did Bwonsamdi ask?" Robbie asked.
The ancient creature replied, "Bwonsamdi will only ask one question: Who is the Walking Death?"
"The Old Gods Y'Shaarj," Robbie answered without hesitation.
The army of the gods clearly refers to the Titans' army. The devastation and raging war were caused by the destruction of the Black Empire controlled by the Old Gods. Therefore, the one whose soul was torn to pieces could only be the Old Gods Y'Shaarj.
The ancient creature shook its head regretfully. "I don't know the true name of the one who died, but anyone who answered Y'Shaarj has already been devoured. This answer is incorrect."
If it wasn't Y'Shaarj, then who could it be? Robbie pondered deeply.
Was it a fallen Titan Keepers? Or some powerful being from the Void?
Robbie couldn't figure out who it was, so he decided to try a different approach.
Perhaps this is a simple trap.
Y'Shaarj can devour the negative emotions and negative energy of living beings; he needs his targets to be driven to despair.
After all, this is the space where death and life meet, and Y'Shaarj, now only a soul, may not have much power left.
Soon, the small boat arrived at a space that seemed like Void, where it was impossible to distinguish up from down from left from right.
Robbie sensed that the space here was incomplete, lacking certain elements.
"Hey, another guest. Not many creatures can enter this place anymore. Are you here to find me?" A masked Troll appeared before Robbie, its small eyes gleaming with cunning.
"That's right, Bwonsamdi, you should know why I came to see you," Robbie said confidently.
"Okay, if you want to find me, please answer the questions."
Bwonsamdi was beneath a vast fog, through which one could vaguely discern a body larger than mountains, boundless and stretching as far as the eye could see.
"This man, known as Walking Death, came here during the Titans army's campaign against the Old Gods' Black Empire. Guess who he is?" Bwonsamdi asked with a chuckle.