Karazhan's Underground Tomb was vast.
Shawn had no idea whom these crypts had been built for, or who had built them. All he knew was that they were incredibly deep, incredibly vast, and incredibly eerie.
If a little girl came here, she would probably faint from fright the moment she arrived.
Even a grown man would be frightened into fleeing-or die inside.
Shawn and the others had barely entered the crypts when a large horde of undead surrounded them.
Meryl Winterstorm lived up to his reputation as a Legendary Necromancer. He did not even need his staff. An immense surge of death energy radiated from Merry, sweeping out in every direction and wiping out every approaching undead like an autumn wind sweeping away fallen leaves.
Soul energy and death energy sustained the undead, and both fell within a Necromancer's control.
Merry did not even move. Every undead around him, whether ordinary or decades-even centuries-old, was killed. Their souls shattered, and their death energy dispersed before Merry absorbed it.
Necromancers manipulated souls and commanded death. Unlike evil Necromancers, Merry did not enslave these souls. He merely shattered them and absorbed their death energy. For a Necromancer... that already counted as mercy.
Following behind him, Broll could not help frowning deeply.
Druids followed the way of nature. Nature magic was life magic, and life and death were natural opposites.
In Broll's view, although these undead had been dead for many years and had become a scourge here, threatening living beings who passed through, they were still being enslaved and directed by others. They should not simply cease to exist like this. Their souls deserved comfort and release.
The Necromancer's methods violated Druid teachings, but Broll could say nothing. The man was a Necromancer, not a Druid, and could hardly be expected to