"I see the light! Now I can rest in peace!"
On a plane without a Light Church, the dying Canaan suddenly became invigorated.
As he lay at death's door, his soul's eye saw the light.
After the Church of Light was driven out, the Necromancers hiding in the sewers grew active, persecuting the living.
A Necromancer had set his sights on Canaan's village.
The villagers suffered terribly, enduring both physical pain and mental torment.
They were subjected to all kinds of torture and forced to watch their loved ones suffer the same fate, one after another, or become walking corpses through unspeakable desecration.
Canaan was about to fall. When he died, his resentment would erupt, and both his corpse and soul would become materials for the Necromancer, to be made into Ghouls and wraiths.
He didn't want to be enslaved and tortured after death. As he lay dying, he yearned for the Church of Light more than ever.
When the Church of Light was still around, the dead rested in peace, and Necromancers had no room to survive.
It seemed the light had heard his call. It came.
"Who are you?"
To Canaan's confusion, the light that came from the Spirit Realm wasn't the all-purifying Hospice Blessing. Instead, it was a cloaked figure piloting a small boat and carrying an underworld lantern.
"The Styx Ferryman!"
The cloaked figure holding the lantern swung the Scythe of Death. Canaan's soul flew toward the Underworld Boat and into the lantern.
Chains released by the Underworld Boat bound his corpse and dragged it into the hold.
Canaan wasn't the first. The Scythe of Death reaped the other dying villagers, and their souls and corpses were drawn separately into the lantern and the hold of the boat.
Though the Underworld Boat was small, it seemed