Once the three formations had been set up, they still needed a formation core to hold them down.
After a brief thought, Lynn removed the Phase Soul Lamp from his waist.
This lamp had been with him for many years, from his apprenticeship to the present. It had stored countless souls and borne witness to countless battles.
Now, it was no longer sufficient. A Stigma-grade witch artifact required better materials and superior refining methods.
He had no time to gather those things for now, so the Soul Lamp had been set aside.
He suspended the Soul Lamp above the volcanic crater to serve as the formation core.
The Soul Lamp began to glow. The souls within sensed the Death Power outside, and they began to stir, grow excited, and surge outward.
It was the taste of freedom!
The Wraiths emerged from the lamp one after another.
Some cautiously poked out half their heads, looking left and right before daring to come all the way out.
Others impatiently squeezed out, crashing into the Wraiths beside them.
Still others circled the lamp's opening, as if they had been inside for too long and no longer knew where to fly.
They drifted through the air. Some shrieked, some whispered, and some remained silent.
They were already dead, with no fleshly bodies and no restraints, but they still needed a home.
The Phase Soul Lamp was too small to hold them all. This island was large enough, barren enough, dead enough—perfect for them.
An old Wraith drifted to the edge of the volcanic crater at the island's center and looked down into the pitch-black pit below.
It had spent twenty years inside the lamp and had long forgotten what the outside world looked like.
Now that it had emerged, it no longer saw lamp