A stretch of gray wasteland.
As if some terrifying force had stripped away all vitality from this place, all the vegetation had withered, and even the soil was shrouded in an aura of decay.
This place had clearly just witnessed a battle; there were many corpses of necromancers nearby, along with others wearing strange robes who bore the crest of a golden balance supported by arm bones upon their chests. These people were all clerics serving the Lord of the Dead, Kelemvor. Just now, they had survived a fierce battle, yet they still faithfully guarded one among them. That was a young-looking warrior with handsome features and a calm gaze, holding a heavy sword in his hand and wearing a special suit of armor. In front of them stood a group of people attempting to retreat, led by a figure draped in a gray robe whose pale finger bones clutched a staff, her body enveloped in a dense aura of corruption.
"Visarrun!"
The young man advanced step by step, slowly saying, "You can no longer escape."
--The God of Liches, Visarrun!
Soren had once tracked the traces, but had never been able to find the deity. The fall of the God of Mages was inseparable from him. At that time, the trail Soren ultimately followed led to the God of Prophecy, Savras, and he was led all the way to the territory of an Ancient Red Dragon.
At this moment, those surrounding the God of Liches, Visarrun, were all his zealots. The vast majority of these people were necromancers, accompanied by two powerful liches. The portfolio of the God of Liches encompassed necromancy, necromancers, evil liches, and the undead. He was one of the most hated enemies of the death pantheon because he and his worshippers frequently disturbed the rest