Lightning crackled above an island forgotten by the gods.
It was an unholy land of the dead and lost souls.
As the storm raged on, at the cliff of the island, a lone figure sat cross-legged, his eyes closed in deep meditation.
“Lord Death.” A figure came from the town at the bottom of the cliff, respectfully landed on one knee, and bowed. “The Death Entourage had returned with news.”
“What is it?” The so-called Lord Death whispered and left the state of deep meditation.
After opening his eyes, he saw that he was surrounded by ghosts and the lost souls of the damned, which only he could see.
He reached out his hand towards one of the beautiful, pale-faced ghosts and felt a chilling breeze pass right through his fingers as his hand phased right through.
“The Death Entourage failed to get the luck.” His loyal follower said coldly. “Apparently, some thieves stole the heart.”
“That is indeed bothersome.” The Lord Death muttered, and it wasn’t clear whether he was frustrated or nonchalant. “Any idea who?”
“The Death Entourage only saw a pirate ship. There was a flag with a skull and crossbones with black hearts as eyes. That was a ship they saw passing by.”
“Black hearts…” The Lord Death whispered. “Black Heart Pirates…”
“What shall we do, sire?”
“I’ll handle it…” The Lord Death stood up with his black robes swirling around him as if he were the master of the storm and raging waves in front of him.
His follower’s cheeks flushed with excitement. “Yes, sire!”
The Lord Death walked past his frantic follower and descended down the cliff stairs that seemed to be nature-made except carved to make the steps less rough.
He approached the town that lay in the valley below. Its nearby forests were fully composed of death trees that were twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers.
The black gates of the town loomed ahead, adorned with eerie carvings depicting grotesque faces and twisted creatures.
The gates immediately opened as the Lord Death walked through, revealing a desolate town consumed by darkness and despair.
Its streets were silent and littered with decaying buildings; the grass was overgrown and choked with weeds; and the air was heavy with an eerie stillness.
However, beyond the boarded windows, there were ghosts and lingering souls that whispered tales of forgotten lives and lost hopes. They seemed to yearn for someone to hear their stories and acknowledge their existence.
Each ghost and soul whispered different tales from different epochs, weaving a tapestry of history and emotion that traversed centuries and touched the hearts of those who dared to listen.
However, only the Lord Death was able to hear them, as he was also the only one able to see them.
As he walked through the desolate streets, he finally came across a church with broken stained glass windows and a dead-looking cemetery surrounding it.
There were skeletal hands protruding from the ground as if they were zombies trying to escape their graves.
In a few crescent moon nights’ time, they might be able to escape their prison.
As the Lord Death arrived at the front door of the church, a haunting sound of a violin came out of nowhere. The sound echoed through the darkness, and this time, even the people gathered inside the church could hear it.
Slam—the Lord Death slammed the church’s doors open, and there were his frantic followers, seated on the pews, their hands clasped in a prayer and their lips moving in desperate pleas for salvation.
The Lord Death stepped up the altar steps and approached a closet that was hidden behind a velvet curtain.
After moving the velvet curtain out of the way, he opened the closet, and inside there was a magical armor that was transparent and fully in the color of light green. It was as if the armor was the corpse of a tall ghost.
If Ambrose were in the church right now, he would shout that the armor looks exactly like the Ghosts of the Wild Hunt.
The Lord Death turned away from the armor and spread his arms wide. He then closed his eyes.
As the candle’s fire died off, the armor opened up like the shell of an oyster. The armor then encased the body of the Lord Death, tightening around him like a cocoon.
The Lord Death opened his majestic eyes, now wearing glowing, ethereal armor. Since it was transparent, it was still possible to catch a glimpse of his black robes, but the armor was too majestic to look away.
He radiated power and authority, commanding the attention of all who stood in the church.
“Pray well, my children!” The Lord Death shouted and exited the church. Behind him, his frantic followers chanted his name.
The Lord Death walked by the town; all the ghosts and souls hid inside the buildings, too afraid to look at the armor-wearing man.
It was as if they could feel their eternal demise coming from him.
The Lord Death headed back to the cliff and saw the ghosts and souls that lingered there scurry away as if they were afraid for their lives.
He stopped at the end of the cliff, where where the raging sea and its crashing waves right below him.
As he reached out his hand towards the lighting-covered sky, a green smoke emerged from his fingertips, forming a scythe made of skeletal bones.
“We have a hunt ahead of us!”
He seemed to scream towards the fog-shrouded sea, his voice carrying an eerie echo.
After a while, the lightning stopped, and from the fog, a ghost ship emerged, its tattered sails billowing in the wind as it rode the stormy waves towards the island.
On the deck of the ghost ship, ghosts from the Wild Hunt emerged; their skeletons glowed with eerie green light as they brandished their spectral weapons.
The Lord Death jumped from the cliff, plunging towards the churning sea below with sharp rocks that seemed capable of tearing through flesh and bone.
However, then the ghost ship swept in, caught the falling Lord Death, and then returned to the thick fog, starting a new hunt.
The Ghosts of the Wild Hunt stood on the deck, looking at Lord Death with their hollow eyesockets. However, there was a small glowing ball inside the eyesockets, as if they were acting as eyes.
“A new hunt.” The Lord Death pointed the scythe towards the stormy sea on the horizon. “Follow the scent of the Necro Island’s Nymn Tree. It leads to our destination!”
The small glowing ball inside the eyesockets of the ghosts seemed to flicker with anticipation.
…
Inside Black Heart’s captain’s cabin.
“Hmm?” Mars frowned and rubbed his star-pupiled eye. “Fate is trying to lead me away. I cannot do that. I’ll need the heart. There are dangers, clearly, but without the heart, I don’t know how I can reach my goal!
“I’ll change the world to fit my image. I might seem like a villain in the eyes of those ignorant fools, but when I am done, I’ll be hailed as a hero.
“When the world is based on my image, it will be a perfect paradise. There won’t be violence or crime, and everyone will live in harmony.
“I will be the one to bring true justice and peace to this world.”