On the seventy-third layer of the Abyss, the Well of Darkness, the dim light of a steel-blue sun shone down upon a vast plain divided by jagged rocky mountains scattered everywhere. Countless black ponds densely covered the separated patches of flat ground, each linked to the next by ten-foot-wide marble paths.
Countless large Bodaks patrolled the entire layer tirelessly along predetermined routes, silent and merciless. They were the lowest-ranking jailers of the Well of Darkness, but even these minor underlings possessed at least seventeen creature levels, and a few might even be legendary undead.
In short, any living creature walking this layer had to tread with the utmost caution and absolutely never let these undead discover them. Even if an outsider could deal with these undead, the other jailers of the Well of Darkness would swiftly teach them a lesson!
Of course, there were always exceptions. For example, at this very moment, one visitor was swaggering openly among the Bodaks.
A Bodak's body looked exceptionally strange. Its flesh was dry and shriveled, nearly reduced to powder, yet it carried an otherworldly sheen; its proportions were bizarre and devoid of sexual characteristics, its hair completely gone, its face almost entirely flat. Only a pair of deep black holes remained where its eyes should have been, constantly emitting rotten green smoke. Bodaks intensely despised all living creatures and would strike to kill the instant they encountered one. Though Bodaks understood the languages they spoke in life—usually Common—they never attempted conversation when meeting others. Instead, they spewed a long string of vile mutterings mixed with insults, threats, and curses. In rare cases, Bodaks could wield weapons in battle, but they generally preferred simply slaughtering their foes with their Death Gaze.
Yet as the visitor strolled leisurely past those shriveled, towering Bodaks, the low-ranking