The Paladin in the Abyss
Chapter 812 - 823: Floor 3

"Peyton Derrick?" Lancelot decided to play dumb first, "Wasn’t he defeated by the ghost witch long ago?"

"Defeated, but not eliminated." Medusa sniffed, "Ah, that smell... Have you ever tried the pies sold by the ghost witch? The ingredients include flour, milk, eggs, and the bone powder of children..."

"Thanks for the reminder, but don’t change the subject." Lancelot replied coldly, "What is this place used for?"

"If I answer, will you let me go?"

"Once we’re certain you pose no threat, we’ll let you go." Lancelot promised, "But if you don’t cooperate, we won’t have the extra energy to keep an eye on a prisoner, do you understand what I mean?"

"Such a polite threat, Knight."

"Do not test my patience any longer, answer the question."

"Alright, alright... if ’here’ refers to the entire Demon’s Domain, it’s the ghost witch’s pasture." Medusa stumbled up the stairs to the second floor, "And if you mean this tower we’re in, it’s even simpler: this is where the ghost witches harvest."

"Harvest what?"

"Go to the third floor, and you’ll naturally understand."

Just as Medusa’s voice faded, an eerie wind blew from the stairs above, changing everyone’s faces—they each heard a distinct wail, as faint as a mosquito buzzing by their ears, yet mixed with hundreds of different voices.

Unknown brings fear, and the way to break this fear is simple. Bruto immediately moved towards the stairs, but was stopped by Lancelot.

"I’ll go."

The dwarf nodded, stepped aside, and watched the unseen female prisoner with a hostile gaze. Lancelot then took a deep breath, silently operated his mental method to strengthen his Protective Sword Shield, and carefully stepped onto the stairs leading to the third floor.

Although he had a vague idea of the answer, the sight on the third floor still struck Lancelot. This level had no windows, but the room was not entirely dark. The walls and ceiling were filled with deep purple glowing crystal prisms, tightly packed and stacked, making Lancelot feel like he was inside a beehive.

"Come up." Lancelot called down, "Bring Madam Kesme and be cautious of the steps."

The companions soon emerged from the stairs, each immediately shocked by the sight. Of course, they recognized the objects on the walls—those were the special crystals known as Soul Prisms, one of the hard commodities in the lower realm. Previously in the Demon Capital Gaomendikolia in Androlina, the companions had seized a large number of Soul Prisms from a Zoel Matriarch, and the quantity of Soul Prisms here was more than ten times that.

However, careful observation would reveal that the crystals on the walls were in two different states. Some had cloudy, flowing, milky white smoke inside, indicating a soul was imprisoned within, while the empty ones were semi-transparent, looking just like ordinary crystals.

In the center of the room, a deep black metal column as thick as an arm hung from the ceiling, resembling a strange chandelier. At the end of the column was a metal sphere the size of a goblin’s head, and as everyone scrutinized the surroundings, the sphere suddenly lit up, emitting several bluish-white arcs that jumped among the Soul Prisms on the walls, accompanied by crackling sounds.

Everyone was startled by this sudden change; in such a confined space, a bouncing Lightning magic was one of the worst scenarios. If this was Medusa’s trap, she herself would not survive. Despite this, Lancelot still stood in front of the female prisoner, a reflexive action—of course, the blindfolded Medusa wouldn’t know he had done such a thing.

Fortunately, the situation did not escalate. The scattered arcs merged, finally combining into a thick beam, linking the metal sphere to one of the crystals on the wall. The group heard a fleeting scream, as if someone fell and brushed past their window; within a breath, the scream vanished, leaving only eerie silence.

Lancelot stepped forward and solemnly examined the crystal that had absorbed the arc. As he approached, the smoke inside the crystal congealed into a tiny human face, desperately hitting the cage’s boundaries—naturally to no avail, not even shaking the cage slightly.

"When a soul ’matures’, once death separates it from the flesh, it gets captured by the tower’s magic and imprisoned within these crystals." Medusa spoke faintly, "And these souls are the ghost witch’s harvest."

"What about you?" Lancelot turned and asked, "Why aren’t you imprisoned in those crystals?"

"Because I am the ghost witch’s slave." The blindfolded prisoner pursed her lips, "Unaging youth, eternal beauty, oh... if I had known the price to be paid for it..."

"You still haven’t answered my question." Lancelot’s voice became colder, "So why are you in this tower? What about those petrified flesh golems in Chadegory Town?"

"...That was my secret plan, trying to use them to break the chains the ghost witch put on me." Medusa shrugged indifferently, "But you barged in, killed me and my subordinates, and destroyed my ten years of efforts. When I revived, I was back in the ghost witch’s hut, forced to be their maid. Those psychotic old women seemingly enjoyed having a former Queen serve them. As the Lich army approached, the ghost witches were completely panicked. They needed to fight Derrick but feared I’d betray them at the crucial moment, rightly so... So, they sent me to guard this tower. Satisfied? Any more questions?"

"Yes. You mentioned ’mature’ earlier, what does it mean?"

"When a soul fully transforms into neutral evil, neither excessively chaotic and unpredictable nor stubbornly unchangeable, they are ’mature’."

"I see..." Lancelot rubbed his chin, "What’s the deal with the funnel on the second floor?"

"Periodically, the magic device on this floor will revive the prisoners, then immediately throw them into the pipe below."

"Where does the pipe lead?"

"Naturally to the small lake outside... If you don’t believe me, you can go inside and check, maybe the ghost witches hid their wedding jewelry there..."

"Good joke. What’s in the big house next to us?"

"The ghost witches’ wealth." Medusa revealed a cold smile, "But I’m sure, you won’t like it..."

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