“True Purgatory is about to begin.”
Before stepping onto the final stair, Anna turned around, her gaze sweeping across Lydia’s face.
A kind of weariness that couldn’t be dispelled gathered in her eyes.
It was as if she already knew of the misery that awaited upstairs.
“Alright…”
Lydia believed that after her recent ordeal, she could accept whatever she was about to see.
What could possibly be more tragic than the fate of those male adventurers?
Lydia couldn’t even imagine it.
Anna said nothing more. She severed the decayed, creaking door and stepped into the place she called the real purgatory on earth.
Pale moonlight poured in through the broken hole at the top of the tower, sketching out the contours of Hell along with the starlight.
Lydia’s breath stopped in an instant.
She had never seen Hell, but she imagined Hell could be nothing worse than this.
Even with all her mental preparations, Lydia still couldn’t stop herself from retching.
Swinging in front of her was an arm tied up with rope, swaying like a pendulum.
Dark, viscous blood dripped from the ceiling, splattering beside Lydia’s feet and splashing high onto her cheek.
Lydia didn’t even have time to scream before Anna cut the hanging rope with a single stroke of her sword.
She walked forward through the pool of blood, each step blooming a crimson flower.
Splat. Half a body fell from the darkness onto the ground—it was a female adventurer, someone Lydia vaguely remembered seeing once in the Adventurer’s Guild hall.
Her eyes were still open.
“Sigh,” Lydia heard Anna exhale softly.
They passed through a cramped corridor. Under the moonlight, Hell revealed its full visage.
Countless souls had been crushed here; new evil was breeding and growing in the moonlight.
Seven or eight female adventurers, clothes tattered and torn, lay scattered everywhere like broken, discarded rag dolls.
Some had their eyes gouged out, some had lost limbs, some were completely intact but stared vacantly into space.
Some curled up in corners, bodies shaking like malfunctioning puppets.
Some stared blankly at the broken hole in the tower’s ceiling, drooling as their lips trembled, muttering meaningless words.
Some even smiled at the empty air, as if lost in some beautiful dream.
A tide-like, overwhelming stench filled the entire floor.
There was no question where the stench came from—the milky white liquid covering those adventurers.
The thought of what that was made Lydia shudder from head to toe. She didn’t know if it was out of anger or fear.
“Can anyone hear me!?”
Anna’s voice echoed through the silent floor, but as expected, no one responded.
A “clack-clack” sound quietly appeared behind Lydia.
A pair of tentacles reached out from the darkness, first probing gently, then suddenly lunging straight for Lydia’s back.
But Anna was much faster.
The moment the tentacle touched Lydia, Anna’s sword light fell from above.
She sliced off a section of tentacle, as easily as cutting through a lifeless hemp rope.
“Don’t just stand there—prepare for battle!”
Anna’s steps spun like a dance. She shielded Lydia behind her, the tip of her sword aimed straight at the direction the tentacles had come from.
Her shoulders were slightly raised, fully ready for battle at any moment.
“Don’t move more than three steps away from me.”
Barely in time to give this warning, Anna leapt high, dodging a tentacle that lashed up from below.
She spun in midair, her sword flashing like lightning and slicing the tentacle cleanly off.
From not far away came a low, buzzing whisper like insects’ wings.
“Damn it! It’s the Shaman!”
Anna suddenly picked up speed, shooting like an arrow loosed from the string toward the Goblin Shaman that emerged from the darkness.
It was a figure even larger and stronger than any of the previous goblins.
In its hand, it held a Bone Staff forged from human bones, topped with a broken skull.
Its eyes were a turbid yellow, filled with cruelty and cunning light.
This was the Goblin Shaman, the leader of these creatures.
It grinned viciously, as if furious at the two adventurers for trespassing.
“Lydia, to the left!” Anna shouted sharply.
Almost by instinct, Lydia dove forward, rolling awkwardly to dodge the Shaman’s sudden attack.
Right where she had just been standing, a dark purple arrow struck, eating a small pit into the floor with its corrosive power.
Lydia didn’t dare imagine what Corrosion Magic would feel like if it landed on her.
Anna’s sword closed the distance in an instant, aiming the sword light straight for the Goblin Shaman’s throat.
The Shaman’s Bone Staff slammed to the ground, and instantly, a Bone Wall of bones and mud rose up from the earth.
Anna’s sword lodged into it, but she simply swept sideways with force, the entire Bone Wall collapsing under the edge of her blade.
The Shaman stumbled and rolled aside, barely escaping Anna’s flurry of attacks, shrieking sharply all the while.
In the corner, a female adventurer suddenly rose like a marionette, staggering as she spread her arms and launched a sudden attack at Anna.
She hugged Anna’s waist from behind, and Anna had no choice but to halt her sword mid-strike.
Anna hesitated for a split second.
She could mercilessly slay any monster that dared block her path, but she couldn’t aim her blade at her own kind.
She was always one to value her comrades deeply.
“Sister!”
Lydia’s sword picked up the attack where Anna had left off.
She stepped past Anna, charging at the Shaman like a brave little lamb.
Her swordsmanship was not disordered; it followed precise patterns, each move displaying the results of her rigorous training.
She pressed the attack with swift strikes, forcing the Shaman to retreat repeatedly, making it split its attention to deal with Lydia.
Anna broke free from the iron grip arms.
She pushed away the controlled comrade and, with light steps, leapt past Lydia.
Lydia’s sword missed, and Anna immediately followed up. The two swords pressed the Shaman like a relentless storm, closing off every route of escape.
“Bang!” The Shaman tried to summon another wall, but Lydia shattered it with a forceful swing.
Now’s the time!
Anna seized the fleeting chance.
She moved like a ghost, spinning in the moment before the Shaman could cast a spell.
The blade of the holy sword once again ignited with a Platinum Flame—scorching fire, like divine wrath, ready to burn all it touched.
“Die!”
The sword light swept through the darkness like a crescent moon rising, passing precisely across the Shaman’s short neck.
The Shaman’s turbid yellow eyes widened in shock, its chanting coming to an abrupt halt.
The Platinum Flame devoured its bones in an instant.
The room fell into a brief, dead silence, broken only by the two adventurers’ heavy breaths.
Lydia watched Anna sheath her sword, looked at the pile of ash that was once the Shaman, and glanced at the adventurers strewn like broken rag dolls. For a moment, she couldn’t even identify the emotion stirring in her heart.
The joy of victory? It didn’t seem to be there. The fatigue after battle? That didn’t feel right either. Lingering fear? Not much left now.
Lydia just felt a hollow emptiness in her heart.
They had won, yet Lydia felt none of the joy she should have.
“Well done.”
Anna’s voice was as calm as ever.
Her gaze swept over the women, and the weariness in her eyes seemed even deeper.