The Paladin in the Abyss
Chapter 813 - 824: What’s in the Bedding?

"The witches’ wealth? Whether we like it or not, that depends on what we see with our own eyes..." Bruto grinned while lifting his warhammer, "As for these here... brother, should we handle them as we did last time?"

"No," Lancelot shook his head, "Even if released, these souls can’t head to the Domain of the Vague. Let’s collect them and hand them over to... our friend."

Still wary of Medusa, he did not mention Cranvo’s name. Then, Lancelot silently activated his mental method, and a bright green sword aura appeared in his hand. Though the sword aura was less than half a foot long, it sliced through the crystal-embedded wall as easily as cutting tofu. The room contained more than ten thousand soul prisms, even if nearly half were empty, their value was still astonishing.

At the same time, Bruto swung his hammer, smashing the other fixtures in the room into pieces. Although the Medusa captive couldn’t see her surroundings, from the sound alone she knew what was happening around her. She stood coldly in place, showing no reaction.

After thoroughly destroying this level, they continued to the top floor of the tower. It was a narrow attic where even the tallest of them, Lancelot, couldn’t stand straight, so they hadn’t noticed it from outside earlier. Apart from a crude bedding, the room was mostly occupied by a blood-red magic formation with no other furnishings.

"Wait a moment..." Kalalin said suddenly, "Let me copy this formation, it’ll only take a moment..."

"This is the witches’ trick..." Bruto wrinkled his nose in disgust, "Are you going to learn even this?"

"Knowledge itself is neither good nor evil, what’s good or evil are the methods to gain it and the intentions behind using it..."

Kalalin spoke as he pulled out a bundle of blank parchment from his bag. He briefly chanted a spell, summoning a cone of mystery light in his hand. As he swept the light cone across the ground’s magic formation, the same pattern appeared on the parchment.

While the Scholar was busy making his research records, Lancelot approached the dirty bedding and squatted next to it. It emitted a strong, offensive stench, a mix of dead rats, rotten fish, and excrement, which was very unpleasant. Nonetheless, Lancelot sensed Medusa’s lingering presence, indicating she had been lying there not long ago.

The Scholar had finished his transcription by then. As Lancelot stood up, ready to destroy the magic formations, an inexplicable impulse caused him to lightly lift the bedding with his toe. A horrendous stench assaulted him, like a fist of flies hitting his face. An ordinary person might have fainted, but Lancelot, with his extraordinary physique, withstood the direct hit.

"Father God above!" Bruto exclaimed, covering his nose tightly and roaring in a muffled voice, "Brother! What are you doing?!"

"I..."

Lancelot was about to explain when his expression changed suddenly. Inside the bedding, he found something noteworthy—a set of broken metal shackles, with cuts smooth as if sliced by an extremely sharp blade.

He quickly turned to look at Medusa, still standing where she was, seemingly oblivious. But one detail betrayed her: while others reacted to the smell, Medusa had no reaction whatsoever. Without hesitation, Lancelot drew his sword and thrust it at Medusa. When the longsword was less than half a foot from her chest, the wall beside them suddenly exploded.

Spirit Perception issued an unmistakable warning, forcing Lancelot to parry. In the next moment, a sharp metallic clash rang out, and a tremendous force shoved him away.

Lancelot rotated rapidly in mid-air, dissipating the force from his opponent’s weapon, and landed ready for combat. He saw that a strange man had appeared—a man with plaster-like skin, a sculpted, muscular torso, and swan-like wings. Undoubtedly, he was an angel, but his aura was far from celestial, marred by wings stained with dark red blood and yellowish pus, and an evil-looking great sword with serrations and blood grooves in his hand.

More significantly, his grey eyes had no sane light, resembling a puppet. Lancelot immediately realized this creature, though bearing an angel’s body, was merely another flesh golem made from an angel’s corpse.

The golem did not pursue them; he extended his arm, and Medusa hugged him smoothly—she had long severed the vines binding her hands but had been faking compliance.

"Farewell, Sir Lancelot," Medusa sneered, "You shouldn’t pry so deeply into a lady’s privacy..."

The golem flapped its wings, carrying Medusa out through the hole it had smashed. Lancelot was about to launch a sword qi attack when he sensed a terrifying energy building up behind him.

"Jump!" Lancelot shouted, "Everyone, jump out!"

The Human Knight’s voice carried a unique power, stemming from years of commanding in the army, compelling his companions to obey. Everyone rushed to the gap in the wall, Lancelot being the last to leap out, gripping the slightly slower dwarf father and son.

The tower peaked over thirty feet above the ground. While a fall from that height could cause severe injury, it wasn’t a significant challenge for his companions; the only obstacle was overcoming their primal fear. As Lancelot jumped barely half a heartbeat later, the tower’s top erupted in a series of intense explosions, their shockwaves crashing against their backs, speeding their descent.

Despite carrying over five hundred pounds of dwarves (including equipment), Lancelot landed gracefully, allowing Bruto and Barrend to sit down steadily.

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