The Wightlord peered into the distant cliffway where a golden shine could be seen. It seemed to originate from a peculiar set of eyes…

Disgusting eyes. Eyes filled with an insatiable thirst for knowledge…

Eyes of a fairy.

The ancient lich paused for a moment—a thousand named spells designed for inflicting torture and pain raced in its mind… Contemplations over how to deal with this unworthy witness formed faster than it could heal.

But all of it was cut short. The radiant rune pages flickered crimson as the ancient Floor Guardian was left with no choice but to defend himself from the shadow woman's next onslaught.

This time, rather than slicing with her scythe, she had resorted to simply transforming her primordial darkness into colossal chains. Like a spider laying its web, the woman wove the chains together with every mausoleum and pillar in this hall of death. How she was able to achieve this so quickly puzzled the guardian.

But mysteries such as this must be left for later.

At that moment, all his attention was focused on protecting his vitals and finding a new vantage point. With how many chains there were and the fact that the woman can emerge from within her own shadows instantaneously, predicting the next assault became extremely challenging.

And just as he had assumed, the worst outcome occurred… The woman suddenly emerged from the chain over his head—her scythe ready to cull those who cling to this mortal world. What's more, flames of darkness were covering the gruesome blade, shifting gracefully as its frigid edge neared his neck.

Flying backwards, the ancient lich dodged the initial slash as the edges of his crimson robe caught fire to the shadow flames. Then, in a gurgled tone, he sang a hymn…

Suddenly, one of the five mysterious pages burst into a storm of blood and bones… A crimson fog made of flesh began to spread—heading towards the ethereal woman at a rapid pace.

Faced with such a colossal attack, she tried to slash through it, but it proved useless. In an instant, the woman was engulfed within the crimson cloud as it seeped into every orifice. Her blood began to boil as her pale white skin became full of blisters.

She stumbled for a second—hallucinations taking form. But the ancient Floor Guardian wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste. He instantly commanded the next page to be used which also burst in a similar fashion. However, rather than crimson mist, emerging from within was a blood-forged effigy made of bone…

Its ribcage splayed open and its heart pulsed with cursed blood. The ancient lich pointed at the woman then at the wretched thing. And with one swift motion, he held the horrifying ritual item in his hand and crushed it to pieces—blood splattering with every fragment of marrow and flesh.

The woman in the distance immediately reacted to this. A violent cough overtook her as she clutched her chest in pain. For a brief moment, her knees almost buckled.

Without hesitating any further, the lich launched another assault. This time, an array of swords flew towards her to finish her off.

However, it proved useless in the end.

Just moments before the first bone blade reached her, the woman dissolved into darkness. Her form became incomprehensible once again as the hundreds of dark chains surrounding the lich clinged in an eerie fashion. Unfazed, he began to channel his crimson anima once again for the next clash, but unexpectedly, something strange happened.

The ancient lich found his body turning stiff, as if the very joints between his bones were turning against him… The anima within exploded in action—trying everything it can to move again, but it was all pointless.

Somehow, the Floor Guardian had become trapped…

In the distance, Soren watched all of this unfold keenly… His lips dripped with blood—the same goes for his eyes. After all, obtaining such valuable information did not come without a cost. His sanity… He had sold it once again.

Even so, recklessness without a plan wasn't bravery—it was stupidity. From the information he had gathered with [Eyes of the Fairy] before his audacious attempt at prying, he had already deduced at least the next few possible clashes and their subsequent order in his mind… And from that prediction, he managed to time his lethal dare exactly when the ancient lich became vulnerable.

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With the Floor Guardian busy recovering from his own wounds while needing to fend off the woman's never ending onslaught, Soren was free to gaze upon its secrets without facing any consequences…

"And yet…" He whispered to himself as the horror show unfolded. "Why do I feel so bad for that Floor Guardian right now?..."

At the moment, what [Eyes of the Fairy] had shown him truly struck fear into his heart. Invisible strings… Strings made of inextinguishable darkness were coursing through the ancient lich's body. And yet, the lack of control he was currently feeling was only the beginning of his agony.

It started small, but Soren noticed it instantly. Dark patches of soot—growing indiscriminately across the lich's bones… It was hard to tell exactly what it was at the start, but then, the woman emerged from the shadows before the ancient lich, and once she did, everything clicked into place.

Those dark patches… They were the woman's own injuries! With the power of the Nameless Mist, she had erased the existence of her blisters and wounds—transferring it into the inextinguishable void of darkness, then passing it back to the ancient lich through the tiny shadow strings. From the very beginning, she was hoping for this outcome—to use her own enemy's lethality against them.

Soren truly could not believe his eyes. He imagined himself in that situation—having to lay there stiff in agony as the enemy you thought you had bested reappears and suddenly returns every one of your battle achievements back to you…

Horrifying… This woman is horrifying!.. His heart raced with fear, and yet, he couldn't help but continue gazing… The scene unfolding before him was just too bizarre to ignore.

As the woman in the regal dark dress stood still before the ancient skeletal construct, his gaze seemed to harden as two crimson lights pulsed within his hollow eyes… Soren could instantly tell what he was feeling in that moment—anger.

Primal rage at its own defeat…

The woman, however, seemed unconcerned. Placing her palm over his skull, she forcefully pulled upwards, severing his entire spinal cord from the rest of the bones. The gruesome finish ended with an explosion of crimson anima as the last flickers of life within the ancient lich finally gave out… And with it, the army of the dead ceased all movement as well, forever returning to the earth.

The battle… was over.

Just like that, an ancient Floor Guardian lay dead—coldly slain after millennia of unwavering duty to this sacred hall… Its bones were strewn across the cobblestone floor—completely indistinguishable from the countless other corpses in the mound.

Perhaps, the only remaining indicator of its former status was the regal crimson robe it donned—draped like a forgotten burial banner over the remains.

"Soren…" Myrin spoke in a soft tone—one filled with worry…

"I know, don't worry." Soren nodded. "Let's get ready to retreat—the battle seems to be over. We can't allow that thing to notice us."

Just as [Eyes of the Fairy] disabled itself from exhaustion, a cold, frigid wind blew past the pair of magi… It was a breeze unlike any other—one fitted with the chill of death itself.

The two of them instantly knew what had happened. Their eyes widened and yet, neither dared to turn around… It was as if they were locked under a spell—frozen in time. Even the thought of escaping or fighting back didn't register.

Death was inescapable this time…

There was nothing they could do about it.

They had to accept it.

The seconds ticked by in eerie silence, and yet that primal instinct—to run, to survive—refused to fade.

Their despair deepened with each passing heartbeat. It felt deliberate. As if she was drawing it out—savoring their fear and offering them a sliver of false hope to make their deaths even a fraction more exciting…

In the end, Soren's acceptance of death began to crumble—replaced with anger, then resentment.

Why hasn't she killed me yet? Just do it already!

Do you find this entertaining? Leaving us alive in this agonizing state of waiting for that final moment to come… Is this a joke to you?!

He grit his teeth. Fuck it.

Without an ounce of hesitation, Soren turned his neck back sharply as a swarm of golden butterflies raced from the pages of his Soul Weapon into his amber-colored eyes. If death was inevitable, he had decided to embrace it.

Not as a victim. But as a scribe.

Myrin had reached the same conclusion. Just as Soren was reactivating his skill, the Elven Songster raised his flute, fingers trembling, and brought it to his lips.

Even if death was inevitable, he refused to meet it in silence. That was not what his mistress had taught him.

However, their expectations were instantly shattered.

As Soren gazed upon her form, he was met with an infinite abyss of darkness and nonexistence…Light itself bent around her presence, as if an entire void of history and knowledge had manifested itself within the Beyond…

Utter darkness… He could not even glimpse a sliver of information.

Seeing this, the woman smiled slightly. He was left stunned—unable to process what was happening… Then, just as he blinked his eyes again, she was gone… The sea of darkness had vanished with her.

Torchlight flickered once more across the ancient hall of death.

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