Nidalee drew a deep breath. "Let me try."
She stepped forward, circling around Charles, and called out loudly to those ahead: "Brothers, I am Nidalee, daughter of Archdruid Ilarode and leader of the Mountaineer Tribe. I am here on my father’s orders, bringing demon-fighting experts with me for the purpose of cleansing the demon pollution inside the cave."
"Would you let us pass?"
He fell silent. It was fortunate he himself was a higher-up in the Alliance of the Mountain Purifiers; otherwise he might have believed the woman’s lie.
Since the decision to eradicate the demons, all the major forces of the Alliance of the Mountain Purifiers had mobilized. The joint action of these two powerful tribes to eliminate demon pollution had been carefully planned with Ilarode. The Archdruid himself was purifying pollution elsewhere, and with his own shortage of hands, there was simply no way he’d send his daughter with a group of strangers to cleanse pollutants here.
This woman had to be an impostor!
Even if by some chance she spoke the truth, just looking at her, the soft-skinned companions behind her were plainly from Liberl Port, maybe even one from Sein. There was no way the Archdruid would work with such outsiders.
"No!" Danche snapped, stiffening his neck. "Our people are already purifying the pollution inside. Please wait here—your assistance is not needed!"
Nidalee’s expression turned sour; she felt deeply embarrassed. As she considered what new excuse she might use, Anno’s eyes suddenly widened. "The demonic aura in the cave is growing stronger. We must hurry!"
At that, Charles’s eyes focused, suspecting at once that these people were up to something they dared not reveal, and that was why they were blocking the way.
He stepped forward, just about to speak, when suddenly from the cave came a shriek like stone grinding on glass: "Aaaaooo—"
A wave of horrifying psychic pollution burst out—even under Anno’s aura of divine protection, Charles felt a stabbing pain in his skull. The half-orcs ahead fared far worse.
Danche, moments earlier so adamant, was struck by a splitting pain in his head. Wracked with agony, he clutched his skull, bowing, teeth gritted. He couldn’t even soothe his chimera—he was barely holding on himself.
Robbed of Danche’s calm touch and assaulted by the demon’s shriek, the strongest chimera at his side let out a savage snarl, unable to control the blaze and frenzy raging within. Its muscles tensed, and with a beat of its wings, it hurled itself straight at Charles.
Nor was it alone; wherever the beastmasters bowed in agony, their chimeras went mad as well. Two more followed Danche’s beast in a frenzied pounce, another began thrashing and drooling in rabid delirium; the last dropped its goat head and charged its own master!
All at once, chaos erupted!
Willo Green Vines, leading her tribe’s spellcasters, advanced along this round cavern tunnel, two meters high. The pitch-dark cavern offered not a speck of natural light—but with fae blood in their veins, all were born spellcasters. Though not as adept as elves, simple spells to improve their environment posed no problem.
Now, each satyr’s hand glowed with a Light spell—beams as bright as lanterns, slicing through the blackness.
But the deeper Willo went, the greater her unease.
It didn’t feel like a natural cave, nor an animal’s nest, nor a mine dug by dwarven miners. If anything, it seemed more like a colossal burrow carved out by some monstrous worm.
The more she observed, the more unsettled she became—could it be, that the demon here had awakened, even gained control of at least one Chthonian?
Was this cavern burrowed by a Chthonian?
Judging by its size, at least a mature Chthonian... And so quickly, too...
Heavens, was this cavern a coincidence, or intentionally made by that demon?
She dared not dwell on the thought—if it was the latter, then the demon’s efficiency far surpassed her worst predictions, and the damage would be beyond her fears.
At the bleakest, if the Abyssal Lord succeeded, not just Liberl Port below the mountains, but perhaps a million square kilometers of plateau to the northwest could be shattered—lost forever! Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on NoveIＦire.net
And without the plateau’s shield, the monsoons would sweep freely, impacting climate the world over...
No, progress must be hastened!
With rising dread, Willo pressed ahead. Turning another bend, they emerged into an enormous subterranean chamber.
It soared five or six meters high, easily covering ten thousand square meters—a plaza-sized vault. Stone pillars sprang from the floor, capped by draping stalactites, some long, some short, beautiful but ominous.
"Careful—there may be foes lurking here!"
Willo warned her kin, stepping warily ahead. Her fellow satyrs shifted formation, ringed defensively, swinging beams of light into every shadow to prevent ambush.
Deeper in, passing several stone columns, they discovered a crumbling stone stele at the very heart of the chamber. Vile Abyssal curses, scrawled in dripping blood, stained the weathered face; in front, decayed offerings and several pitch-black gems.
The moment Willo beheld the stele, pain lashed at her eyes and skull, hot tears stinging down her cheeks.
She blinked hard, suppressed her discomfort, and declared, "This is it. Everyone, hold watch. I’ll remove the stele and purify this place!"
The satyr mages kept their backs to the stele, eyes on the shadows, guarding against any would-be attacker. Alone, Willo approached the stele, casting a protective spell on her eyes as she squinted to read the script.
Anxious, she recalled: this was her first time purifying such a site—no one had summoned demons here in decades.
Circling the stele, she compared every detail to her grandmother’s grim textbook; convinced, she formed arcane signs and began her incantation.
Soft white light blossomed from her, flowing into the stele. She felt her strength draining, as though something were drawing her dry. The loss of control unnerved her; anxiety crept in. She clenched her teeth, fighting to control her mana and direct it evenly against the corruption imbued in the stele.
Then, a mighty suction seized her. The stele ripped away its camouflage, becoming a ravenous siphon, madly draining her mana!
The stone shuddered, and the whole underground vault quivered as if riven. Willo’s eyes widened: her premonition had come true—the trap had closed on her!
A trap, set by demon-worshipers for this very moment!
"Fall back!" she screamed, throwing caution aside and bolting back.
Too late. The stele uttered a harrowing shriek, the sound of stone scraping upon glass—every satyr in the cavern reeled as agony ripped through their skulls.
A swirling vortex blossomed—a circular portal. Cackling demons surged from its swirling depths!
--------------------------------------
Enjoying the story? Get early access to 130+ Advanced Chapters!
👉 Support now: /TransFic
--------------------------------------