Let’s rewind the time by half an hour.
After Mason used his Adventurer Certificate to activate the Teleportation Array, Letia, who had been tailing the three of them, immediately followed behind.
As the most outstanding battle nun to come out of the Holy Tribunal, her stealth skills were truly terrifying.
Yet even so, she was nearly discovered by Red.
Before the blinding light faded, Letia hurriedly concealed herself.
Her petite figure melted perfectly into the shadows, so no matter how hard Red searched, he couldn’t find a single trace.
“Red, what are you looking at?”
“N—… Nothing.”
Mason’s words made Red withdraw his gaze, and he moved on.
Once the three had left, Letia emerged from the darkness and quietly clicked her tongue.
Even after fighting in the Dungeon for so long, the damp and chilly atmosphere still made her rather uncomfortable.
But perhaps that was just because she’d been relaxing at home lately and wasn’t used to this environment anymore.
Yet the main problem wasn’t that—it was her increasingly aching head.
Ever since entering the twenty-seventh floor, the images in her mind had begun to flicker again.
The Script had activated once more.
Only this time, what Letia saw still wasn’t herself, but a figure constantly running, with angry roars and curses echoing faintly behind.
A dense array of words and images seemed to point out the very origin of the whole event.
But because it was too fragmented and chaotic, combined with the pain in her head, Letia could barely think at all.
Letia clutched her throbbing head, and only after a while did she lift her eyes and look ahead.
However, she didn’t follow behind Red, but instead chose to head in the direction indicated by the Script—to the very source of all of this.
“It should be this way…”
Following another passage, Letia stepped forward bit by bit.
Her steps were light as a feather, making not a sound.
The black priest’s robe she wore was nearly indistinguishable from nightwear, blending her into the darkness completely.
From afar, the Beast’s roars echoed from time to time, and Letia shuddered at those deep growls.
She couldn’t help it—every time she tried to sleep, she’d see visions of being eaten alive by Beasts in her mind, so there was some lingering shadow and fear.
The further she walked, the clearer the images in her head became.
At first, she only saw what that person had witnessed in their last moments, but now the timeline was pushing back, and from this first-person view, Letia also saw the clothes the person was wearing…
These were Black Church robes.
Letia’s eyes narrowed slightly.
She stopped and gazed at the marks on the ground.
A patch of bright red bloodstains, and… a shredded Sacrificial Robe.
The person about to die in the Script should have been lying here, yet now their corpse was nowhere to be found.
These clothes looked as though they’d been torn apart from the inside, broken beyond recognition.
“So, it seems… The Demon that attacked the Scarlet Legion was actually this Black Church member transformed. But why did he die from having his chest pierced?”
Letia was puzzled.
She crouched down, intending to analyze carefully.
Countless images and memories surged into her mind, mixed with ant-like text, making her feel as if her brain was about to split open.
The intense pain sent beads of cold sweat rolling down her forehead and back.
Soon, the words began to arrange themselves, forming a crystal clear scene.
Time rewinds to twelve hours ago, on the twenty-seventh floor.
Satania followed two priests step by step.
The damp and cold atmosphere all around made her heart quietly uneasy.
The two priests walked in silence, their wide hoods covering most of their faces, revealing only rigid jawlines.
But as Satania glanced over by chance, she caught a glimpse that made her blood run cold—the mouth of one priest was curling up, with a stiff and unnatural arc that nearly tore his face apart.
That wasn’t a smile a human should have.
It held no emotion at all, cold and hollow, like a smile forcibly pulled by a Puppetmaster.
Seeing this, Satania no longer dared to meet the priest’s gaze.
She dropped her head sharply, her heart pounding as if it would leap from her throat.
Was that just her imagination?
Or had the gloomy, stifling atmosphere made her eyes play tricks?
At that moment, Satania also noticed one of the priests clutching an Enchanted Dagger etched with blood-red runes.
But just as she tried to look more closely, he immediately hid it in his sleeve.
“Satania… What are you looking at?”
“It’s nothing, nothing.”
Now, Satania was truly flustered.
Red’s repeated warnings rang in her mind.
This was the prelude to being silenced!
I have to run…
I have to get away!
As the two priests rounded a corner, Satania abruptly turned and ran, bolting away with all her strength, caring for nothing but escaping.
The two priests behind her heard her footsteps.
“Satania! Where are you going?!”
“Hurry back! I’ll count to three!”
Their angry shouts and curses echoed behind, but Satania couldn’t care less.
She just ran, ran as far and fast as she could, with no direction or end—she only wanted to get away from these two increasingly bizarre priests.
Once she had fled far enough, the scene snapped back to the two priests.
The priest who had spoken calmly to Satania before was now so furious his face had twisted out of shape.
“So close…”
According to the original Plan B for Demonization, the one who drank the Demon Potion was to be brought into the Dungeon and stabbed in the heart with that Enchanted Dagger.
In this way, the Demon Potion would, through the broken heart, pour the Demon’s power into every vein, and the Dungeon’s pervasive magic would gradually transform the recipient’s body, making them a mighty avatar of Demonization.
And this was not the demon race in the traditional sense, but a Demon God, rival to the Angels.
But now Satania had just run away!
“Quick, bring her back! The Deicide Plan won’t work without her…”
As this priest cursed under his breath, a dark voice sounded behind him.
“Who said we can’t do it without her?”
Hearing this, the priest turned—and was faced with a terrifying scene.
The priest who held the Enchanted Dagger now wore a smile that tore to his cheeks.
Though his face was smiling, his eyes seemed to cry, just like a marionette being controlled, limbs stiff as he raised the Enchanted Dagger.
At that moment, the priest’s pupils shrank.
In an instant, he realized—
His companion… had been hypnotized!
When did it happen?!
There was no time to think.
He spun around and tried to flee, but how could he outrun a puppet controlled by someone else?
The priest wielding the dagger lunged forward with inhuman speed, as though his very body had been pushed to the limit.
In less than a second, he caught up and plunged the Enchanted Dagger ruthlessly into his fellow’s heart.
He seemed both to cry and to laugh, his hoarse, eerie voice echoing softly.
“Isn’t… isn’t there still another sacrifice?”