Chapter 376: The Prisoner
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 376: The Prisoner
Creak—
A piercing sound rang out, like the decaying wail of metal.
Under Narishigi’s push, the massive Golden Gate slowly groaned open.
Turbid air billowed out from the rasping doorway, carrying a foul, stagnant stench that had settled over countless years. Margarita, prepared for this, immediately purified the air, turning it into a gentle morning breeze that drifted past the group.
Behind the door lay a pitch-black abyss, seemingly bottomless.
But other than that, there appeared to be... nothing unusual?
"Is it open?"
"What’s inside?"
"Is it safe?"
For a moment, a flurry of questions erupted from the crowd. Everyone crowded eagerly before the gate, rubbing their hands together as they peered into the darkness.
Had it not been for the constraints of their contracts, they likely would have charged straight in.
"Should we go in first?"
Liya whispered into Muen’s ear.
Given her recent contributions, she certainly had the right to be the first to enter.
"Wait, something feels wrong."
Muen felt an inexplicable sense of unease. He stood at the edge of the gate, choosing not to enter. He looked left and right, his brow furrowed.
"Don't you all find this strange?"
Amidst the noise, some looked thoughtful and others grew solemn, but most showed a hint of disdain, feeling that Muen was being overly cautious.
Muen ignored them. His gaze swept rapidly across the scene—first the Golden Gate, then the thick darkness—desperately trying to identify the source of his intuition.
Finally, his eyes landed on Narishigi.
He remembered something.
"You... you're a mage, right?"
"Of course I'm a mage."
Narishigi blinked, then looked at Muen as if he were an idiot.
He was dressed head-to-toe in the attire of the Tower of Origins. What else could he be but a mage? A noble place like the Tower of Origins didn't produce meatheaded brutes who only relied on physical strength!
"You haven't undergone dual cultivation of magic and martial arts?" Muen continued with his strange questioning.
"No." Narishigi was annoyed, but out of respect for Muen's status as the Saintess Candidate's knight, he answered patiently.
"And you didn't use any enhancement magic on yourself just now?"
"I used a defense spell, just in case."
"What about magic to increase your strength?"
"Of course not. I don't punch people with my fists, so why would I use a spell like that?"
"I see. So you didn't..."
Muen finally stopped his interrogation. He looked up, taking in the entirety of the magnificent gate, and then... a bitter smile touched his lips.
"Since you aren't a martial artist and didn't use strength-enhancing magic, then as a physically frail mage... how exactly did you push open such a massive metal door?"
"..."
Silence fell.
Everyone who had been itching to move froze. Annie and Margarita exchanged looks, a flash of alarm in their eyes.
Narishigi stood dazed, his face gradually turning pale.
Right. How had he pushed it?
"Ah..."
At that moment, as if answering his question, a low moan echoed from the viscous darkness behind the gate.
It was raspy, like the sound of rotting wood.
But it was terrifyingly clear.
Then, the gate suddenly thundered. The doors, which had only been pushed open wide enough for two people to walk abreast, slammed further back, swinging fully open to create a wide passage that invited everyone forward.
The complete darkness was exposed to all.
But no one moved.
Tap.
Because from the darkness came the sound of footsteps.
A dim, yellow light flickered from a battered lantern.
A figure wrapped in rags stumbled forward, step by step, toward the crowd.
It was a withered figure. His limbs were pierced by iron nails the length of a forearm, and cold chains wrapped around those nails, extending back into the depths of the darkness.
As the chains dragged along the floor, they kicked up sparks.
"Ah... Goddess..."
A raspy voice spilled from the figure's throat. By the dim light of the lantern, everyone could clearly see that his throat had also been skewered by an iron nail.
Black blood flowed not only from his wounds but also from his eyes; scalding mercury had completely corroded his sockets. His ears had been filled with molten, lava-like steel.
He could only weep in agony, letting out a mournful... wail. The sound was profoundly tragic, like the coming of the apocalypse.
"Goddess... please forgive me... forgive my sins..."
A cold wind howled, and the stench of rot billowed out from the gate once more. This time, however, it wasn't just stagnant air, but a highly toxic miasma.
"Back up! Get back!"
The crowd scrambled to scatter, dodging the miasma. In the chaos, they could only watch as the figure emerged from the darkness and stepped outside the gate.
"What on earth... is that thing?"
Even though they had suspected there might be more traps behind the gate, no one expected that what lurked in the dark wasn't a trap in the traditional sense, but... a person. Or rather... a prisoner.
"Goddess? Did he say 'Goddess'? Did he commit some sacrilege against the Goddess and get imprisoned here to guard the door?"
"Dammit, stop stating the obvious! The question is, what do we do now? That thing clearly isn't going to be easy to deal with!"
"To hell with it, let's give him a taste of our firepower first!"
A hot-tempered mage began gathering mana, unleashing a probing strike.
A massive explosion of fire erupted. Though it was a hasty attack, the combined power of several mages working together reached a terrifying level.
The tall, thin figure finally stopped. Endless pain flowed from his hollow eyes, as if he were about to be consumed by the fierce flames.
But to everyone's growing horror, they realized that no matter how the fire burned, it couldn't even damage a single thread of the prisoner's tattered robes.
Though they knew it wouldn't be solved that easily, this result still sent shivers down their spines.
"Goddess... please forgive my sins... [unintelligible rasping]... I shall atone."
Amidst his humble pleas, the prisoner did not attack. Instead, he raised the lantern in his hand.
Inside the lantern, a ghost-like flame flickered, as if summoning something back.
"Don't let him continue!"
A cold, sharp shout rang out. Margarita, sensing something was wrong, launched an attack. Beside her, Paul, the successor of the Sword King, sent his longsword flying like a bolt of lightning.
But someone was already faster. In a blur, a blond figure had already teleported in front of the prisoner. A pure white blade illuminated Muen's grim face as a chilling edge, wrapped in holy radiance, pierced fiercely into the prisoner's body.
One strike to the neck, one to the heart.
Both were lethal points.
But Muen's expression quickly changed.
It was useless.
He had clearly struck vital organs and was pouring in as much Holy Light as possible to incinerate the filth, yet the prisoner remained unmoved.
He stood tall in his withered body, slowly swaying the lantern in his hand.
Ting-a-ling.
Ting-a-ling.
In that moment, everyone turned back in terror.
Because from the other patch of darkness behind them, a heavy sound of breathing suddenly rose.
It wasn't just one.
There were countless.