But the magical world was different.
You would be twisted into your opposite. The kinder you were, the more evil you would become.
Whenever your sanity briefly returned, you would feel unbearable pain over what you had done.
"Yes, it was incredibly cruel. Arthas ultimately chose self-destruction. After he was twisted by conspiracies and schemes, power and evil, his soul was devoured, and he fell into the abyss."
"In the end, he also faded away, just like his dead father," Yang Weite sighed.
Old Popsicle asked doubtfully, "Where was that Bronze Dragon throughout this whole tragedy? Why didn't he stop it?"
"He wouldn't stop it, because the tragedy was Fate set by the world. Not only would he refuse to stop it, anyone who tried to disrupt that Fate would be attacked by him."
"Then he's far too evil. He doesn't have the slightest conscience," Old Popsicle said bitterly.
"Exactly. That's why we don't need to feel any psychological burden about taking his power. We can use that power to make this world better." Without realizing it, Yang Weite had mastered an essential skill of necromancers: persuasion.
Without realizing it, he had even fooled Old Popsicle.
Of course, he had not done it intentionally, but his actions had produced that result.
The Bronze Dragon maintained that Fate. It seemed cold and heartless, but it was to ensure the world could function normally and that most people could survive.
But if they followed Old Popsicle's way of thinking, constantly changing the course of Fate and constantly jumping back into the past to save someone...
Then this world would quickly collapse.
It was like raising a child. You could not indulge them in everything or cater to their every whim.
That was not raising a child. That was raising a reserve criminal.