In a strange forest on the Tyrangar continent, a perpetual mist clung to the ancient trees, impervious even to the sun's rays. No living creatures stirred within its depths, only fleeting shadows that played tricks on the eye.
At the heart of this vast, eerie forest stood a massive black castle.
Death Spirit, silent as a wraith, approached the castle.
As it reached the gate, several shadowy figures materialized, surrounding it.
The dilapidated castle doors creaked open, revealing a figure cloaked in darkness, its form humanoid but obscured by shadows.
"You must be the chieftain of the Shadow race," Death Spirit's ethereal voice echoed through the forest.
"Death Spirit, one of the Eight Kings of the undead race," the Shadow race chieftain replied, his voice smooth and polite. "Please, come in." Recognizing their chieftain's guest, the other Shadow race figures melted back into the shadows.
