The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 636 - 660: Unrequited Love

Chapter 636: Chapter 660: Unrequited Love

As the final stele engraved with magic patterns was installed, the Succubus Lord flapped her demon wings and descended into the center of the Megalithic Formation. A Soul Judge with a pig face flapped its disproportionally small crow wings, delivering a white bone wand into Tijana’s hands. Lancelot gazed intently and noticed that the wand’s end was a hand bone with six fingers. Even hundreds of feet away, he could feel the evil aura it emitted.

At the same time, he felt someone next to him struggling to suppress their anger. The old Holy Warrior Ivendell’s expression had turned nearly ferocious, as if he wanted to draw his longsword and kill every creature around him.

Lancelot looked at this new companion he had known for less than two days with some concern, fearing that the Holy Warrior might act on the thoughts in his mind. Fortunately, the scenario he feared did not occur. After watching for a while, Ivendell forcibly moved his gaze away and started to study the outline of Shattered Mountain Range.

“I’ve fought with a Dark Guardian before,” Lancelot began, “Under what circumstances would a Holy Warrior turn into that?”

“By breaking his sacred oath and opening his arms to embrace evil,” Ivendell’s face showed a slight change, “Did that happen after you came to the Abyss?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Lancelot nodded, “At that time, I was carrying out a commission to escort another Holy Warrior who was trapped in the Abyss and couldn’t leave, while that Dark Guardian had been ordered by his demon master to hunt down the person I was protecting.”

“What happened next?”

“I’m standing right in front of you, isn’t the answer obvious?” Lancelot shrugged, “Interested in hearing his story?”

“…”

“His name was Enrique, once the greatest hero of a Kingdom, leading his troops to defeat the invasions of neighboring countries time after time. When he realized the King was using his fame for their own invasions, Enrique chose to retire, living secluded in the forest with his wife and daughter.”

“…”

“The King repeatedly asked him to come out of retirement, but he was firmly declined. The King gave up, no longer bothering him, at least that’s what Enrique thought. Until one day, he came home to find his wife and children lying in a pool of blood, hearts pierced by daggers from the neighboring Royal Family. Are you still listening?”

“Yes.”

“Can you guess what happened next?”

“Other than those daggers, the neighboring Royal Family had nothing to do with the murder.”

“Was I too obvious?” he murmured. “You’re right, it was indeed a clumsy trick. But the puppet master wasn’t the King alone—the entire Town Council had agreed to the murder. Upon learning the truth, Enrique collapsed. He drew his longsword and demanded blood vengeance from the whole city. This was the moment of Enrique’s fall, a clichéd tale of betrayal, murder, and revenge.”

“…”

“Don’t make such a stern face. Think about the questions I’m going to ask you next… Did Enrique suffer injustice? Since the murder was sanctioned by the King and the Council, is it really different from executing a criminal under the law? In such a case, is he entitled to seek justice for himself? If the answer is yes, then is there a limit, beyond which lies unforgivable sin? And most importantly, who sets those limits? The Gods? Or the Holy Warrior himself?”

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The old Holy Warrior remained silent, but his eyes turned sharp as a dagger thrust from behind a cloak in a dark alleyway.

“I hope these questions will enlighten you in your predicament but best not act rashly until then.” Lancelot turned his head, “Ah, look, our guest of honor is about to arrive.”

Under the gaze of five legions (not counting the defenders on the walls of Twin Bridges Town), and more than twenty thousand eyes, a massive vortex of magic power appeared within the Megalithic Formation. In the strong wind mixed with the strange and sinister calls, like the screams of those being tortured and the fervent prayers of cultists, the Succubus Lord had returned above the ramparts of Twin Bridges Town, while her bone magic wand remained in place, its skeletal hand at the tip constantly shooting dazzling lightning bolts around.

In Lancelot’s Spirit Perception, the energy contained within the vortex grew stronger, influenced by the Stele etched with mysterious patterns, tearing at the surrounding space in a peculiar way. Not just him, almost everyone felt an inexplicable pressure, causing the crowd to step back.

When the pressure peaked, some invisible barrier shattered. A massive portal with irregular edges appeared out of nowhere. Through the crack in space, Lancelot saw a world with a blue and white sun, and a colossal palace made up of many ivory towers. In front of the palace, on a vast square, stood a demon army as far as the eye could see, along with three towering and formidable Flame Demon Generals.

However, everyone’s attention was captured by the figure in the front, seemingly average in stature, with dark skin. Atop his head were several pairs of delicate demon horns, shaped like a crown, and his half-naked body displayed elegant muscular contours, exuding a unique dark charm. In many ways, he did indeed look much like a human, but the beast-like lower limbs and hands with six fingers betrayed his true identity—’Lord Wu’an’ Grazzt, ruler of the 45th, 46th, and 47th layers of the Abyssal Plane, one of the most formidable challengers for the exalted title ‘Demon Prince’ among demons.

Lord Wu’an slowly raised the flame-shaped great sword in his hand, pointing towards the space rift before him, and behind him, the previously calm demon horde began to churn like a sea buffeted by a storm.

Soon, the first demon crossed through the portal, stepping onto the dry, dusty ground of the Plains of the Abyss. It was a Barlow Flame Demon clad in black plank armor, nearly twice the height of Lancelot, possessing the Flame Demon’s typical deep red skin. Notably, its bat-like wings were torn, the membranes corroded by some strong acid, clearly beyond the supernatural healing abilities of a demon.

As if to answer the unspoken questions, the Barlow Flame Demon flapped its wings and surged into the sky, the injured appendages seemingly not affecting its flight capabilities. Behind it, countless Coward Devils burst through the portal like floodwaters breaching a dam, interspersed with larger demon figures.

The Flame Demon circled in the air and then surprisingly flew towards Lancelot’s position. Lancelot’s heart jolted. What was this about? Had his name reached the ears of such a high-tier big shot? Or had the other party discovered his ability to transform into a Flame Demon? What to do, he was so nervous; should he transform right away to stabilize the situation?

As it turned out, Lancelot was being completely self-conscious. A six-armed Serpent Demon stepped forward to greet the black-armored Flame Demon General, bending in a respectful bow and speaking reverently,

“My respects to you, Lord Babos. To think we would fight under your command again.”