Looking through his Master Golem's Eyes, he saw the remanence of that which may appear as a once great hall. With its once great columns strewn carelessly about across dusty floors, much like straw in an empty barn. The gloom that overshadowed his gaze was of such magnitude that one could not help but feel sorrow. As he looked around he saw Habinoza. Saw his slow breathing coming in to his lungs and gone.

As Lord Erik watches Habinoza labor, he turns and walks away from the view of this work of destruction. And walks his ever slow, never ending march through time. He notes his past seven hundred fifty one years as king. A curse upon him to live through his misery of his misdeed on his kingdom. A release of a plague that killed it and left him alive as a king of the dead. The living dead they call him. The undead king to suffer through eternity ever alone, for no mortal can ascend Mt. Sambiaska without the plague killing before leaving the foothills of the mountain.

This Erik von Drassen, The Undead King, The Ruler of his dead people and its occasional visitor to his kingdom to only be touched by the hand of death feels this, and every pulse he feels, and he remembers, as pain and agony of everyone of the deaths caused by his hand. And he thinks of what eternity he must face in complete agony of death. Do not say death cannot be felt, for The Undead King knows the feel of death with each pulse through his once living flesh, now a dry husk with no life, to only be moved with his will of mind confined to the body now known best as a prison for the soul of The Undead King.