"Slade, do you think those things in the water are really dead?" The cat lay behind the man's neck as though using his head for cover, though it didn't sound frightened at all. "If they're really dead and soaking in the pool, why haven't they rotted?"
Who knew why it was thinking about that? Maybe it had thought of fish?
How to put it? Looking down from the bridge into the lake below, every corpse on the bottom was lying face-up, staring at the sky. Their strange and varied faces all wore peaceful, blissful smiles. It really did resemble a stargazy pie.
"They've all kicked the bucket. As for why their bodies haven't decayed..." As Su Ming spoke, a black tentacle slipped into the water, poked one of the corpses, and quickly withdrew. "Nothing unusual. They used special preservation techniques, that's all."
"This place isn't as fun as Death's Black-and-White Ridge. There were more dead souls there, but it didn't have this creepy atmosphere."
The cat lost interest. The answer was too ordinary, and it lazily settled back into place.
"But this place is different. You said that guy called Wayfinder came here before. Was he really that brave? Seeing scenery like this, he still dared to enter the tomb and look for the sword?"
"When people are pushed to the limit, they can do anything. Forget digging up someone else's grave—even sleeping in someone else's coffin with a corpse in their arms would be no problem."
As they crossed the stone bridge and slowly ambled toward the pyramid, Deathstroke told the cat an old story.
"Wayfinder used to be the prince of a great nation, but the invading Harmonians were a somewhat insane fallen race. They killed and ate Wayfinder's family and citizens. I don't even need to look