The Paladin in the Abyss
Chapter 814 - 825: The Witch’s Treasure

With Lancelot’s current strength, he would no longer get injured from falling, and the others each had their methods of handling the situation: Alamir and Tanya made the correct rolling motion upon landing, dissipating most of the impact; little Isha transformed her bat wings and grabbed the flailing Kalalin mid-air. As for the Zombie Princess who had followed them out, Fran had not reverted from her transformation and was comfortably perched atop the fellow undead little Isha’s head, circling the combination of the vampires and the scholar.

Just as everyone thought they were out of danger, a rumbling sound echoed from behind, making them all sense that something significant was amiss. They quickly turned around and saw that explosions atop the tower were still ongoing. Coupled with the large holes in the second and third-floor outer walls, the building, which had already been slightly tilted, began to collapse at a seemingly slow pace, heading directly toward their position.

Of course, that appearance of slowness was deceptive; if they didn’t start running immediately, they would soon be standing by the side, watching their companions dig out their bodies.

"Run!!"

Bruto let out a loud roar, instantly darting away while not forgetting to drag his father along, which moved Lancelot a bit. Apart from Bruto and his father, the others also took off running immediately, soon overtaking the sprinting Bruto—despite his slight disadvantage in height, the dwarf still managed to avoid being crushed.

"Huff... Huff..." Moments later, Bruto was gasping heavily, looking back at the rubble barely ten feet from his backside, "That was really close... Speaking of, what was that winged birdman exactly? A male succubus?"

"Why would you think that?" Alamir looked at Bruto with a peculiar expression, "Because of its wings?"

"What else?" The dwarf retorted boldly, "Could it be an angel?"

’It indeed was an angel.’ A female voice, seemingly suppressing rage, sounded in everyone’s ears, coming from another angel’s (former) sword, ’But it was only a corpse... That damned Medusa! She should be reduced to ashes in the Holy Fire of Judgment!’

’Whoa, calm down, colleague.’ The elegant male voice of Starlight Strike also rang out, ’Aren’t you folks from Mount Heaven all about procedural justice? That angel may not have died at Medusa’s hands; perhaps she just made use of the corpse...’

’Desecrating a corpse is also a severe crime.’ Sword of Zariel indignantly countered, ’This behavior must be stopped...’

"If I get a chance, I will." Lancelot assured his weapon, "By the way, aren’t there many types of angels? What was that one just now?"

’...A Celestial.’ Sword of Zariel paused briefly before answering, ’They usually serve as messengers or agents of a deity, conveying divine will or performing specific tasks in the Main Plane. If I’m not mistaken, that angel was likely dispatched to lift the curse on this Demon’s Domain, but...’

"He failed." Lancelot shook his head, "And we won’t follow in his footsteps. Let’s go; we need to figure out exactly what riches the witch is hiding before we must evacuate."

In fact, the barn-like large house was already within reach. A few steps and they were at the door. Lancelot gave it a push and found it barred from the inside. It was just an ordinary wooden door that Bruto could easily break down, but what concerned the human knight was something else—as he placed his hand on the door, he felt a strange vibration, so peculiar it seemed to make his soul tremble.

Lancelot’s face changed slightly. The last time he had this feeling was when he saw that bottomless pit of corpses in Oasis Fort. He extended a green Sword Aura from his palm, ran it lightly between the double doors, and the door slowly creaked open. Immediately, an indistinct murmur filled the air, mingled with intense negative emotions, as if Lancelot had opened the doors to a theater.

The human knight stood still at the doorway, not entering immediately. Bruto couldn’t contain his curiosity and peeked in from beside Lancelot, but his face turned ashen in an instant. He stepped back and vomited loudly on the ground.

"What’s going on..."

Alamir, speaking as he peeked inside, immediately regretted it, his head turning like he’d been slapped, struggling to suppress the urge to vomit.

"What... What’s inside..." Kalalin, who initially intended to look, became scared by the others’ reactions, "Why don’t you just tell me, and I won’t look..."

"We should have known." Lancelot suddenly spoke up, shaking his head as he stepped away from the doorway, "What else could the witches’ soul collection be for..."

The remaining comrades all cast their gaze inside the building, their faces instantly stiff as they took in the sight. Inside was a large pit filled with writhing, churning maggots. However, these maggots were nearly seven feet long with bodies as thick as Bruto’s waist, resembling snakes that had just swallowed a human. Most disturbingly, each giant maggot had a twisted but still recognizable human face, the implications of which were self-evident.

The man-faced maggots, the initial form of wicked souls upon reaching the lower planes, were also one of the principal commodities of those planes. Although they had encountered these pitiful entities before, never had they seen so many, so large, or so horrifyingly intertwined. The nauseating scene triggered the deepest sense of revulsion within them.

Few people truly understood why they felt such discomfort—that was the most tragic form a mortal soul could take. Anyone would feel unease at the sight of so many disabled kin, and these man-faced maggots’ form of disability was even more pitiable. Their fate wasn’t necessarily to transform into lesser Fiends; more commonly, they would be used as spellcasting materials, their souls disintegrating into nothingness in extreme pain.

Suddenly, Lancelot’s ears caught a low whistling sound. He leaped back just in time to avoid two giant rocks that slammed into the spot where he had stood. The force of the impact almost sent everyone flying. The human knight whirled around to see two huge ’treemen’ still in stone-throwing postures, with each treeman’s hut-like ’head’ topped by an ugly witch, commanding their ’mounts’ towards them.

"Thief! Robber! Plunderer!!!" The witches shrieked with extreme fury as they charged, "I’ll flay you all, sew your hides into a brand-new bedspread! Get ready to die!"

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