Diablo traveled through time and became a necromancer

"Here." His voice was hoarse, and he pointed his staff at a charred pile of earth half-hidden by rubble.

"And here." Pointing to another wet muddy area near the stream that was overturned by the explosion.

"And... over there." Finally, he pointed to the bottom of the rubble of the mill foundation that was collapsed by the giant arm.

Skeleton Brother silently walked to the first location Wu Ye designated. He didn't wield his greatsword, but instead extended his palm, covered in thin bone shards, like the most precise excavating tool. Ignoring the gravel and slippery mud, he began carefully clearing the surface of loose soil and debris. His movements were slow and focused, with a solemnity that bordered on reverence.

Soon, a hand, covered in charred mud but with faintly visible broken finger bones, emerged. Following closely, a fragment of tattered leather armor etched with the distinctive emblem of the Rogge Camp—a falcon with outstretched wings. Further below, more mangled limbs, soaked in mud and blood...

Irene stumbled closer, and upon seeing the familiar fragments of the emblem, she could no longer contain herself, letting out a pent-up cry of grief, tears pouring out like a dam breaking. She knelt in the mud, her trembling hands reaching for the cold remains, only to pull back abruptly as if scalded.

The skeleton continued to clean without pausing. Soon, the relatively intact remains of a female warrior were carefully unearthed.

She wore tattered Rogue Scout leather armor, a massive, charred-edge laceration piercing her chest, evidently killed instantly by some powerful energy weapon. Her face was twisted with agony and death, but the half-broken longbow clutched in her hand silently spoke of her determination to fight to the bitter end.

"Captain..." Irene burst into tears, digging her fingers into the cold mud.

Wu Ye watched silently, his eyes complex. He walked to the second location and carefully used a bone spear to push away the soft soil. Soon, the remains of another warrior emerged. Her body had been nearly ripped apart by the blast wave, leaving only the remains of her torso and a severed arm clutching a dagger.

At the third location, beneath the heavy remains of the mill's foundation, Skeleton Brother carefully pried away the massive stone blocks pressing down on it with his greatsword. Below, lay the remains of the third Rogue warrior. She had been struck by the collapsed beams, her body twisted and deformed, but her eyes remained wide open, staring blankly at the gray sky, as if questioning the injustice of fate.

Three mutilated bodies, soaked in mud and blood, lay silently on the charred earth. They had once been vibrant beings, brave warriors of Camp Rogge, sisters who had fought alongside Irene. Now, on this desecrated land, they had bid farewell to the world in such a tragic way.

Wu Ye took a deep breath. The strong smell of blood and sulfur made his stomach churn. He suppressed his discomfort, walked over to Irene, and gently patted her shoulder, which was shaking violently from crying.

"We can't leave them here." Wu Ye's voice was low and firm, with unquestionable determination, "Take them home."

He gestured to Skeleton Brother. Skeleton Brother nodded silently and carefully lifted the first relatively intact captain's body, his movements as gentle as if they were fragile treasures. Wu Ye himself leaned over, half-kneeling in the mud. Using the lining of his relatively clean mage robe, he meticulously and carefully wiped away the most noticeable mud and blood stains from the captain's face and arms. His movements were slow and careful, as if he were performing some solemn ritual.

Irene watched Wu Ye's actions, tears welling up even more violently. She struggled to her feet and stumbled over to the other two bodies. Using her equally muddy sleeves, she wiped her comrades' cold, stiff faces and broken limbs over and over in vain, trying to make them look... less miserable.

The only sounds in the air were the wind, Irene's suppressed sobs, and the subtle murmurs of Wu Ye and Skull Brother silently cleaning the remains. This battlefield, having just experienced the devastation of hell, was now filled with a sorrow and solemnity heavier than death itself. They wanted to bring these fallen sisters home from this cursed land.

Skeleton Brother carefully held the captain's body, while Wu Ye used his outer robe to wrap the more concentrated parts of the other two bodies. Ailin, struggling to support her frail body, followed behind Wu Ye, each step feeling incredibly heavy.

Just as they were about to leave this heartbreaking place, Wu Ye's gaze stumbled across a patch of scorched earth at the edge of the pit, ripped open by the explosion. There, a half-broken, scorched arm armor fragment reflected a faint metallic luster in the dim light. Emblazoned on the arm armor was a faint yet recognizable falcon emblem belonging to the Rogge Scouting Team—a relic of the fourth soldier.

Wu Ye paused. He walked over silently, bent down, picked up the cold half of the arm armor, and gently stroked the blurred emblem with his fingertips. He said nothing, simply holding it tightly in his palm, the cold metal edges making his palm hurt.

"Let's go," he finally said, his voice hoarse as sandpaper. "Take them... home."

Three figures (two men and one skeleton) slowly moved across the scorched earth, suffused with the scent of sulfur and sorrow. Skeleton Brother carried the remains in front, Wu Ye carried the wreckage behind, and Irene stumbled after them. Behind them lay the vast crater that had swallowed the terrifying giant arm, and a battlefield ravaged by the flames of hell. It was a silent funeral procession, without mourning or music, only a silent vow: to bring the heroic souls of the fallen back to the home they had protected.

The silence on the way home was torn apart by the sea breeze.

Skeleton Brother walked in front, carrying the captain's relatively intact body. His steps were remarkably steady, each one deliberately gentle, as if he feared disturbing the slumbering warrior in his arms. His palms, covered in thin bone fragments, held the corpse's neck and knees firmly. A faint blue soul fire burned quietly in his eye sockets, reflecting the face, wiped clean by Wu Ye but still frozen with pain and unyielding determination. The salty sea breeze rippled the hem of his cloak, making it rustle.

Wu Ye followed closely behind, wrapping the remains of his two comrades tightly in his outer robe. The cloth was quickly soaked with mud, blood, and splashing seawater, and it hung heavy on his arm. His other hand tightly grasped the cold, sharp metal edges that dug into his palm, causing a stinging pain that was far less than the heaviness in his heart.

Irene staggered at the end, each step pulling at the wound on her back. The severe pain made her face pale as paper, and cold sweat mixed with tears slid down her face. But she bit her lower lip tightly, her eyes fixed on the captain in the arms of the skeleton brother in front of her, and used her willpower to support her shaky body.

They trudged along the coastline, their feet no longer on forest soil, but on mudflats mixed with crushed shells and coarse sand and gravel. The path that had been clear when they came was now shattered by earthquakes and the struggles of giant arms. Huge reefs were misplaced, and the ground was covered with deep grooves and slippery seaweed.

Skeleton Brother always found the most secure foothold, using his greatsword to chop away driftwood or small rocks blocking his path when necessary. Wu Ye, on the other hand, was even more careful in protecting the debris in his arms, preventing it from being bumped by the turbulent waves or the rugged terrain.

The stench of sulfur and blood in the air gradually gave way to the rich smell of the sea, yet the heaviness of it remained like a leaden anchor, weighing heavily on everyone's heart. The roar of waves crashing against the reefs, the chirping of seabirds, now seemed hollow. Only the sound of footsteps, the crash of waves, and Irene's stifled, intermittent sobs echoed along the empty shoreline.

As the sky began to turn pale, the outline of a simple camp, nestled against a hillside overlooking the gray sea, emerged into view. A hastily constructed wooden wall and watchtower surrounded the camp. Atop the tower hung the distinctive falcon banner of Camp Rogge, fluttering feebly in the sea breeze. This was their makeshift outpost within Westmarch.

At the outpost entrance, the Rogge sentries on guard spotted this strange group from afar. When they saw the body in Brother Skeleton's arms and the remains of a blood-stained robe in Wu Ye's arms, their cries of surprise instantly pierced the morning silence!

"It's Irene! Oh my god! That's... the Captain?! And..."

"Quick! Report to the sentry commander!"

"Open the door! Lower the drawbridge!"

The heavy wooden suspension bridge was quickly lowered. As Wu Ye and his companions stepped onto the outpost grounds, they were immediately enveloped by an atmosphere of exhaustion, tension, and sorrow.

The Rogue warriors who rushed over after hearing the news stopped in their tracks. They recognized the captain in Skeleton Brother's arms and the broken leather armor fragments belonging to their comrades in Wu Ye's arms.

Expressions of shock, grief, and disbelief froze on their faces, quickly transforming into heavy sorrow and suppressed anger. Many subconsciously tightened their grip on their weapons, their gazes darting towards the shoreline outside the camp, which still swirled with an ominous aura.

The outpost commander—a middle-aged female soldier with a stern face and sharp eyes—hurried forward. Still covered in dust from patrol, she paused abruptly at the sight before her, her lips pursed tightly, her jaw set in a taut jerk.

"Erin? Are you... an elder?" Her voice was low and hoarse, filled with suppressed shock and anger. "What... is going on? The captain and the others..."

Wu Ye didn't answer immediately. He carefully placed the remains in his arms on a relatively clean area inside the sentry post, then gestured to Skull Brother to place the captain's body down as well. Skull Brother's movements were still gentle.

"Branwell...something happened." Wu Ye's voice was hoarse. He spread out his clenched right hand, revealing half of the cold arm armor with the falcon emblem. "We found them...or rather, part of them. The fourth warrior...only found this."

Irene could no longer hold on and fell beside the captain's body, crying bitterly: "Commander... Captain and the others... were trying to cover my retreat... but were killed by Thorien's cultists... and... and that giant hand that crawled out from the ground..."

The commander's gaze was fixed on the half-broken arm armor, then slowly shifted to the three mutilated bodies lying on the ground, soaked in mud, blood, and seawater. Her fists clenched at her sides, her knuckles white from the exertion, and her body trembled slightly.

After a long moment, she took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing her turbulent emotions. Her gaze became sharp as a hawk again, and she turned to Wu Ye: "What's the intelligence? The situation at the sentry? What's Torian's movement?"

Wu Ye pulled the dark red token from his bosom and handed it over. "All the captives were killed, and the crucial intelligence sank into hell with them. We only found this. The holder should be a small leader of the cult. The emblem and runes on it may point to Thorien's core stronghold or ritual site in Branwell."

The commander took the token, feeling cold and heavy in her hand. She stroked the twisted eye emblem and the runes on the back, her eyes icy and piercing.

"Mark of Blasphemy..." she whispered, clutching the token tightly in her hand, "I understand."

She raised her head, her eyes sweeping across the remains on the ground. Her voice was filled with unquestionable determination: "Prepare clean cloths and water! Notify the chaplain!"

Soon, several female soldiers with sorrowful faces hurried over, carrying clean linens and wooden basins filled with water. The only chaplain in the outpost—an old man with graying hair and a compassionate look in his eyes—also hurried over.

She whispered a requiem prayer, and a soft white light emanated from her hands, like a warm stream, gently brushing over the remains on the ground, dispelling the remaining filth and evil spirits.

The Rogue warriors gathered around spontaneously. They silently took off their helmets or headscarves, placed their right hands on their chests, and paid the highest respects to their sacrificed sisters.

Sadness permeated the small outpost like a substance, intertwining with the cold sea breeze in the early morning.

Wu Ye silently stepped aside and gently placed the half-arm armor beside the captain's body. The cold metal reflected a faint luster in the morning light, and the blurred falcon emblem silently spoke of the soldier's final perseverance.

Skeleton Brother stood quietly beside Wu Ye, his dark blue soul fire observing everything before him. His massive frame cast a long shadow in the morning light. In the center of the sentry post, mournful cries and solemn requiem prayers intertwined, bringing this tragic mission to a solemn and poignant end.

The heroic souls of the fallen will rest temporarily in the sea breeze of a foreign land, while those who survive will bear the pain and hatred, as well as the cold token, and prepare to embark on the journey home, bringing the bad news and evidence back to the Rogge Camp. The storm is far from over.

Later, Wu Ye also got acquainted with the commander and the others. The commander's name was Emma, ​​and she was Irene's sister. Irene was also the youngest among the sisters. No wonder the captain and the others covered Irene's retreat.

Inside the makeshift sentry post, a heavy sadness permeated the air, one that not even the sea breeze could dispel. The simple cleansing ceremony concluded with the chaplain's deep requiem. The three mutilated bodies were carefully wrapped in clean linen and temporarily placed in a sheltered, dry corner of the post. Erin clutched the cold, half-cut arm armor tightly in her hand, pressing it against her chest, as if to feel the final warmth of her fallen comrade.