HPDBC Chapter 241: 235 Return the Same Way
Chapter 241: 235 Return the Same Way
Chapter 241: Chapter 235 Return the Same Way
As a succubus that was born in the Abyss and spent most of her life in this dreadful plane, such a scene was really just a minor occurrence for her. Although she bravely fought against her own evil nature and had achieved admirable success, it was these bloody and terrifying scenes that elicited her subconscious response, stating a merciless fact: she was a demon from a lower plane accustomed to torment, killing, and death.
“Wow, it’s great to have someone with courage; take a look, what else is there?” Lancelot immediately responded with a chuckle. He noticed the abnormality of the Succubus Paladin and guessed her thoughts, so he deliberately said this to divert her attention.
“There isn’t anything too special.” Upon hearing this, Elothysia placed all her loot on the ground. There was a scimitar that flickered with blue light, two magic wands with unknown effects, and some horrifying and twisted artifacts that, at a glance, one would be sure were tied to terrible curses, turning any place they were kept into a haunted house.
Many peoples’ impression of demons is that they are brutal and insane, but they also possess a sense of humor and appreciation for the arts, although different from that of mortals. These artworks, symbolizing destruction and distortion, are exactly the style demons admire. Some Abyssal Lords are even willing to pay a high price for them, of course, assuming direct looting comes at a higher cost.
Lancelot didn’t care about that much; he shoveled all the gold, equipment imbued with unknown magic, and the bizarre artifacts he couldn’t appreciate himself into his Dimensional Bag. He planned to identify and appraise each item and divide the loot among his companions after the adventure was over.
After making sure they hadn’t missed any valuable spoils, the group left the hall where the Giant Skull Demon resided. They paused briefly in the corridor leading to the main gate, as the walls on either side were lined with a great deal of mysterious writing and exquisite reliefs. Kalalin hadn’t lingered earlier, but this time, the Scholar wouldn’t pass up these things.
Fortunately, Kalalin didn’t take too long, as he didn’t intend to decipher the obscure Abyssal Text and Runes on the spot. The Scholar said that doing so would not only be extremely time-consuming but also present a great danger. He would only attempt to read them once he had made sufficient preparations and was in a fully secure environment.
As a Scholar of the Dark Cult, every adventure he embarked on after coming to the Abyss was treated as a field study, so his Howard’s Convenient Bag was always stocked with adequate research tools, such as a complete set of inks, beeswax, brushes, and parchment for taking rubbings—it was unknown where he obtained these items.
“Seems like if you’re strong enough, you can still push the door open,” the Elf winked at the Dwarf, “Isn’t that right, Bruto?”
“Shut up, you tree-dweller!”
“I’m just living above your floor...”
The Dwarf and Elf’s bickering lightened the mood a little, but in sharp contrast to their noise, the great hall outside and the huge cave were very quiet. The mutated Demons that had been bustling in the square were now gone. The reason was simple: the moment the Giant Skull Demon died, they were freed from psychic control, and the first thing they did after regaining their senses was to attack their own kind.
Unlike their arrival, the group walked openly among the half-built construction sites, with Demon corpses everywhere, most of them killed in mutual slaughter, some by the Yugros Demon Guards of the Betraying Lord of Withering. The exit route was extremely smooth; they didn’t encounter a single enemy.
Out of caution, the group returned to the campsite Lancelot had dug out earlier and then followed the original path back. They carefully passed the entrance to the Well of Darkness. A Fireburn Demon was attempting to enter that dimension, but the group didn’t attract its attention.
Then there was the Portal to the Realm of a Thousand Eyes. It was unusually quiet as well. The flesh and blood that had covered the ground had long since disappeared, and there were no new Guards stationed. At least none on the surface. Because as they passed by, Lancelot’s Spirit Perception still felt as though he was being watched. Perhaps, in some hidden corner, dozens of little eyes were monitoring any passerby.
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