The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 379 - 393: Dungeon Zone

Chapter 379: Chapter 393: Dungeon Zone

Following the Goblin Head Chef’s instructions, Lancelot arrived at the entrance to a filthy alleyway. At the end of the passage was a deep hole from which came occasional howls filled with pain and resentment. These peculiar sounds, Lancelot remembered, could only be made by Aberrant Demons with distorted vocal cords and lungs; he had heard them before while searching for a missing Gray Dwarf mining team.

Of course, Lancelot didn’t kill the Goblin Head Chef to keep the mission secret, but he also didn’t dare to rely on the so-called water from the Stygian River provided by the goblin himself. With a simple Divine Skill (a forceful slap with the heel of his palm to the back of the neck), he ensured that Chef Rotfoot would enjoy at least two hours of deep, undisturbable sleep.

The Goblin Head Chef told Lancelot that the hole led directly to the Dungeon area. Sometimes, to save trouble, the goblins would throw some kitchen waste into it, thinking it was a good deed to provide extra meals for the Demons trapped inside.

“Jumping again?” The skeleton flew a circle around the large hole on the ground, “Do you need me to go down first and check?”

“No need.”

Lancelot shook his head. With vision enhanced by Foundation Establishment, he could see through the darkness of the hole. The ground below was not far, about twenty feet, but it was a distance that Demons without the ability to fly could not reach. Although the Goblin Head Chef claimed they often dumped trash in there, and the remnants around the edge of the hole confirmed it, there was nothing down there at the moment, likely eaten by the banished creatures inside.

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Unlike the dungeons of castles among mortals, with just a few cells, the Dungeon in the Demon Castle was much larger and resembled a maze, serving not only as a prison but also as a place of banishment. The Demon Lord would throw his underlings who offended him but whose crimes were not worthy of death inside, usually imposing some ultimate curse on them, such as ‘Promotion’ to an Aberrant Demon.

Lancelot formed a simple Dharma Decree to summon a weak Fireball and threw it into the hole. Four Aberrant Demons were attracted by the light of the fireball, but when they found nothing else, they seemed to feel deceived and roared angrily upwards.

At that moment, Lancelot drew Frostslash and leaped down from the hole.

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The descending azure Sword Blade energy split one Aberrant Demon in half. Still, Demons are inherently ready for battle at any time, even more so in such an environment. Before Lancelot could stand up, two Tridents attacked him from left and right, and a Large Cleaver swung down his head, seeming to block every possible counter angle.

But Lancelot had his reasons for jumping down with such confidence — the various Escape Techniques… no, they should be called movement techniques, learned from the bamboo scrolls and highly recommended by Han Tianzun. His body, crouched on the ground, suddenly twisted weirdly, shifting almost five feet backward along the floor, completely dodging the enemy’s attacks.

According to the records of Spiritual Cultivation, most Cultivators rely on ‘Immortal Techniques’ and ‘Taoist Magic’ to fight, similar to Wizards or Magicians. However, Han Tianzun’s movement technique is said to be the best in all the worlds, reportedly allowing him to take treasures as easily as picking things out of one’s pocket among the Taoist Masters and Demon Ancestors. Whether it was true or not, Lancelot couldn’t verify, but once he overcame his initial resistance and practiced a bit, he found it extremely useful. His short-distance Shape Shifting seemed almost like Instantaneous Teleportation to others.

The weapons of the Aberrant Demons were covered with venomous spikes and hooks, designed to inflict maximum pain upon a hit, but at that moment, because of these extra protrusions, they got tangled together. One Large Cleaver, unable to stop its momentum, was stuck in the ground. At the same time, Lancelot, leveraging the momentum of getting up, unleashed an upward slice, followed by two fast, crosswise slashes that split a nearby enemy into six pieces, scattering the body like a smashed rock in all directions.

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Because of the twisted form of the Aberrant Demons, it wasn’t easy to locate their hearts, so they had to resort to this more brutish method to ensure they were truly dead.

Cromwell only then leapt down from above, his shiny, hard forehead like a hammer, smashing onto the severely deformed back of another Aberrant Demon. The crisp sound of breaking bones could be heard as the demon struck by the skull toppled to the ground, wailing, while Cromwell expelled half of a sharp Bone Spur from his mouth, repeatedly stabbing the enemy’s body.

The last Aberrant Demon realized the gap in strength between the two sides. It let out an unpleasant wail, dropped its weapon, and turned toward an exit not far away to escape. Watching the Aberrant Demon’s limping figure, Lancelot sighed, quickly caught up, and ended the demon’s miserable life.

The bodies of the Aberrant Demons were truly too distorted; if they had to be described, it would be like molding a human figure from clay and then forcefully smashing it against a wall. Their appearance was almost to the point where it could be used to determine one’s moral alignment—the sight of them could evoke sadness, pain, anger, and other negative emotions in good people, while evil ones might find it amusing, entertaining, and even take pleasure in observing the torment these beings suffered merely by being alive, garnishing joy and satisfaction from it.

“Doesn’t this disgust you?” Lancelot asked while flicking the grime off his sword blade, glancing at Cromwell as he swallowed back the tail spur of the Bone Demon. The Aberrant Demon in front of the skull had stopped struggling, its body pierced with seven or eight fist-sized holes, one of which must have penetrated its equally deformed heart.

“I’m left with just a skull, so I’m not too picky anymore,” the skull replied, its floating form unsteadily moving beside him. It glanced at the chopped-up remains of the demon’s corpse, “But didn’t you just attack an enemy who had thrown away their weapon and was fleeing? Isn’t that against the chivalry of a knight?”

“Don’t you think killing it was the merciful thing to do?” Lancelot shrugged, “Besides, demons don’t count as people.”

“Fair point,” Cromwell acceded, then looked around, suddenly uncertain. They were in a small hall with many outlets, and the circular walls had six exits; Cromwell’s ‘stick-to-the-right labyrinth navigation method’ might not be very effective here.

“Do you feel it?”

Lancelot’s voice arose directly in the skull’s mind. It turned its head and saw its master staring intently at one of the exits, Frostslash clenched tightly in his hand,

“Feel what?” The skull was startled by his tense demeanor, “Elothysia’s presence?”

“Yeah, and quite a few other things,” Lancelot’s expression was very serious, “Listen, we need to practice some teamwork…”