The Paladin in the Abyss

The best part was that they both used cantrips, which didn't consume any spell slots. Paired with Lancelot and Bruto, two warriors, charging at the front, they could fully indulge in the joy of blasting their enemies away.

Koula was explaining to little Elysha the roles and responsibilities of each teammate in battle, as well as what they should be doing as Wanderers at the moment. The two of them sneaked to the edge of the battlefield and finished off those enemies who had retreated there due to injuries—most of them had been thrown aside by Bruto's hammer or dragged there by the wind of Lancelot's sword.

"Remember, when dealing with Demons, the heart is always the primary target," Koula pulled her dagger from the back of an enemy. This Flomo had been fully focused on Bruto and was completely unguarded against the sneak attack from behind. The Halfling's Cold Iron Dagger, thrust from a lower angle, had bypassed its ribcage, pierced through the diaphragm, and plunged into its tumor-riddled heart.

"What about the throat?" Elysha listened carefully while quietly raising her own question.

"The throat is fine too, if there's only one enemy," Koula led Elysha back into the shadows, "But for me, the throat is a bit too high. Plus, some especially tenacious fellows still have fight in them even with sliced necks. It might be for a short time, but our small stature can't handle that."

The sudden skirmish didn't last long. A few minutes later, not a single mutated Flomo was left standing.

"They're even easier to handle than usual," Lancelot flicked the fresh blood off Frostslash, "But what's with these strange limbs?"

Kalalin stepped forward and began to closely examine the corpses on the ground. Those killed by Bruto were mostly unrecognizable, but those slain by Lancelot were relatively intact and just needed their body parts reassembled.

"It's not just the limbs. Some have mutations in their eyes and skin as well," after an inspection, the Scholar announced, "I guess there's some kind of evil energy source inside. The Demons that fell here after defeat in battle must have grown these bizarre limbs under the influence of that energy."

"That energy source is probably the Eye of Sarizdon," Alamir spoke up, "What about the 'master' they mentioned earlier? Is it Enrique?"

"That seems unlikely," Kalalin was somewhat unsure, "These Flomos certainly arrived here before him, and he only fell in last night. Even if he survived, he would have been gravely injured, so it's improbable he would have managed to control these subordinates so quickly..."

"Perhaps he has some kind of magical artifact that saved his life, and he used the powers of the Dark Guardians to heal himself," Elothysia speculated, "If the Eye of Sarizdon has its own consciousness, then Enrique would be a prime candidate for it to exploit..."

"I'm somewhat regretting not charging in here yesterday," Lancelot grimaced, "But if necessary, I don't mind defeating him again."

The group continued their exploration, quickly encountering several more waves of mutated Demons. These encounters didn't cause much trouble. Apart from their grotesquely discordant limbs that were nauseating to look at, these Demons' combat abilities hadn't changed much and could even be said to have decreased noticeably.

Actually, they seemed to be in some kind of frenzied mental state, howling to capture the invaders and present them to their "master." Therefore, despite the ease of the battle, everyone was becoming more and more anxious, worried that the mysterious master was none other than Enrique, who had somehow gained power from the Eye of Sarizdon.

Lancelot had a tough fight against that guy yesterday. If the Dark Guardian had become stronger, they would be in big trouble.

After repelling three or four waves of attackers, the group finally reached the end of the corridor and entered a giant hall as large as a square.

The first thing that caught everyone's attention was a huge, gloomy square temple in the center of the hall. The temple, perched on top of a small mound-like pile of earth, had a long flight of stairs leading down to the ground. Although it looked as majestic as a temple, Lancelot's intuition told him that it was a crypt, the final resting place of some ancient evil creature.

And the situation around the temple undoubtedly declared that the master of the crypt had awakened from his slumber. Blazing torches burned all around, illuminating several large construction sites. The busy creatures around were Kas demons, resembling worker bees, their slender claws replaced by muscled arms, and their transparent insect wings swapped for tentacles used as grabbing tools. Find your next adventure on My Virtual Library Empire

These mutated demons were carrying stones and dirt to and fro, piling them into various shapes. From the look of the site, a huge palace complex was about to be erected, making Lancelot curious about what kind of creature the "master" referred to by these mutated demons was.

It couldn't be that Dark Guardian, could it?

Honestly, Lancelot felt a tinge of sympathy for Enrique. In fact, he never believed that loyalty had to be unconditional—as a Senior Commander of the rebellion, Lancelot had no qualms about open rebellion as long as he was convinced it was justified and in the interests of the majority.

Therefore, if the reasons for the Dark Guardian's fall were indeed as Elothysia had described, Lancelot could fully understand his anger. But people often do things in the heat of emotion that they later deeply regret, and Enrique had committed the unforgivable act of mass slaughter after finding out he had been betrayed.

Lancelot couldn't help but wonder about the feelings of the enraged hero after he had calmed down. He must have realized he had made grave mistakes—did he regret his impulsive actions? Did he ever try to muster some courage for redemption? Perhaps he did struggle internally, but then the succubi appeared, leading the once glorious and great Holy Warrior back to the Abyssal Demon Realm, sending his soul irreversibly down a dark path.

Using the shadows along the edge of the square, the group slipped into an inconspicuous pile of rubble to observe the situation before them.

"Uncle Kalalin, are you alright?" asked little Issa in a concerned whisper. "Your body temperature seems to be rising very high..."

Lancelot turned his head and saw the red glow in little Issa's eyes. He knew it was the infrared vision ability possessed by vampires and other nocturnal creatures, allowing them to see in the dark by 'seeing' the temperature on the surfaces of objects. And Kalalin, at that moment, was staring excitedly at the busy demons in the square, as if he were peering at the object of his secret affection.