"Don’t let him get close!"
The towering Shield Axe Knight shouted angrily, as fighting energy surged from beneath his feet like a volcanic eruption. Deep blue energy created ripples in the air.
He raised his shield axe high, bellowing as he swung down with force, causing the entire snowfield to tremble.
"Boom!!!"
The demon was smashed into the ground, bleeding and flesh torn, no longer moving.
These demons each rival High Tier Barbarian Race warriors, possessing imnse strength, incredible speed, and being unresponsive to pain.
Those with severed arms still swung claws, and those with broken legs could roll and bite, like an undead curse.
But the White Night Knights squad coordinated neatly and efficiently.
Each strike, each block, seed rehearsed a thousand tis, like a tactical machine with interlocking gears.
The fighting energy’s glow intersected in the night, either blue or red, cold yet brilliant.
And within less than half a minute, those frenzied demons were slain one by one.
The bodies lay limp in the blood-stained snow, without a trace of movent.
The bloodstains on the snow had not yet completely frozen, thick black, carrying a strange fishy odor.
Thomas knelt with one knee, using a short dagger to pick open the remains of one demon’s carcass, his fingertip probing the torn shoulder muscle, feeling an unusual slippery texture, as if mixed with so spore mbrane.
"It’s sowhat similar in structure to the insect corpse." He whispered, his brow furrowing even tighter.
He raised his head, his gaze sharp like a knife: "You all heard, Cold Abyss Ancient God, return... These lunatics are praying to so presence."
One Knight added softly: "The gods worshiped by the Snow Swearers, the Ancient God of Cold Abyss."
Thomas’s expression grew increasingly stern.
If these mutants truly are related to the Nest...
Then this altar is far from simply an abandoned ruin.
He stood up, calmly ordered: "Leave two heads and several tissue samples to bring back to Red Tide, especially the black blood and speckled skin. Bury the other bodies where they lie, dig them deep."
Several squad mbers swiftly and skillfully handled the scene.
Thomas called out a Knight’s na: "Hayes."
A tall and slender young man stepped forward, he was the fastest Knight in the squad.
"Return imdiately the way we ca to a safe place. If we do not return today, write a report of what we encountered and send it to Red Tide City, hand it personally to Lord, telling him the Nest may still be alive."
Hayes nodded: "I understand."
Without any emotional farewell, he disappeared into the wind and snow the next mont.
Thomas slowly donned his helt, the tal buckle clicked tight.
He turned to look at the thirteen silent Knights behind him: "We move onward."
No one responded, but everyone nodded quietly, following closely.
They advanced slowly along the crack on the flank of the ancient abyss canyon, the snow beneath their feet thick and icy cold, only the fighting spirit protection could sustain their mobility.
Suddenly, Cain at the rearmost quietly reminded: "Captain... look ahead."
Thomas’s gaze tightened, and he looked in the pointed direction.
An unusual bulge appeared in his view.
It was a semi-circular curved surface, snow froze into a hard ice layer on it, the edges filled with unnatural fractures.
"Clear the upper ice and snow, use two small Magic Explosion Bullets, detonate at the edges, don’t damage the interior."
"Understood!"
Two knights quickly stepped forward, kneeling to set the explosives.
"Bang!!!"
The muffled explosion thundered within the ice and snow, the shock wave lifted a large mist of ice.
In the swirling white fog, the shattered ice shell scattered like flying blades, the cold oscillations making the air seem to tremble.
When the dust settled a little, a massive stone tablet silhouette erged from the snow.
Thomas sheathed the short sword at his side, quickly advancing forward.
His boot soles issued a dull crash upon the ice layer, as his fingertip brushed away the snow just blown apart.
The twisted runes carved into the stone tablet surfaced before his eyes.
Thomas imdiately recognized it as text from the Old Snow Country era, yet more complex and ancient.
His heart sank slightly, he spoke softly: "Found it."
The squad mbers gathered slowly upon hearing this, yet maintained combat spacing, none making a rash move.
"Group up, clear the ice layer along the crack."
As shovels of ice chips were tossed aside, the entrance buried beneath the snow finally revealed its true form.
It was a half-collapsed stone stairway, weathered and worn by ti and frost, yet still leading straight into the deep underground.
The mont it was opened, the air changed.
What wafted from the stone steps was not rely moldy decay, but an odor mixed with stench, blood, and the rot of so kind of raw flesh, making one involuntarily frown.
A knight took a long-handled torch from his backpack, lit it, and tossed it down the passage.
The torch drew a red arc of light, then fell into the darkness.
A few seconds later, the point of light didn’t vanish as usual, instead, after falling for a few seconds, it was swallowed by a kind of dark mist, only a faint red glow sinking into the abyss.
Thomas squinted, watching the direction where the red light disappeared, and murmured to himself, "Bottomless."
He stood up, his gaze sweeping over the team mbers standing solemnly beside him.
No one showed fear, but their expressions were noticeably more cautious than before.
"Carter and Rick, stay above. If we don’t return within thirty minutes... follow the plan and head back to Red Tide to submit the report."
"Yes." The two responded without asking further.
"The rest, follow ." Thomas didn’t waste words, stepping into the darkness, producing a dull echo.
The remaining eleven White Night Knights followed in an orderly line.
Their footsteps echoed through the narrow passage, as if countless ghostly shadows were following them along the walls.
Each step further down, the air beca more humid, the sound of the wind gradually replaced by a kind of "whisper."
It was a strange language, vague, hoarse, muttering, like fragnted poetry recited over and over, but all words had lost their aning, leaving only absurd echoes.
So knights turned pale, cold sweat beading on their foreheads.
Thomas imdiately turned and said, "Stay alert, it’s just residual ntal pollution, not actual erosion."
Suddenly the scout knight raised his hand sharply, signaling everyone to halt.
On the rock wall ahead, faint under the frost, an ancient mural buried by the years gradually appeared.
Thomas stepped forward, under the illumination of the torch, a massive and ancient mural erged from beneath the frost.
The painting depicted a man and a woman standing at the top of an altar, their expressions solemn.
Beneath their feet were two twisted beasts, like so out-of-control demons, with tusks and gaping mouths, as if about to tear the heavens apart.
"That... that woman..." a knight murmured.
Thomas’s pupils suddenly contracted, his heart clenched by a cold hand.
The woman’s face was strikingly similar to what they saw during the Doomsday Battle, the Doomsday Nest they witnessed with their own eyes!
"Is... is it the Nest?" a knight whispered, his voice trembling uncontrollably.
Though not identical, there was an astonishing sense of resonance.
As if she, through the mural, was watching every soul approaching her.
Coldly indifferent, judgntal, like a superior staring at ants.
A terrifying ntal oppression suddenly descended.
Not just Thomas, but even all the Extraordinary Knights around turned pale!
They were not ordinary people.
Knights who had stepped into the threshold of transcendence, all with resolute will.
But even they felt their will being stripped away by so invisible force, their souls drawn into the abyss of those hollow eyes on the mural.
"Ugh...!"
A knight collapsed to his knees, clutching his head tightly, veins bulging at his temples, a trace of blood oozing from the corner of his mouth.
Two others struggled to draw their swords, almost plunging the blades into their own chests!
It was not an illusion.
But so ancient and sinister whisper, seeping into their consciousness through the mural and through the air.
"Everyone! Run the breathing technique!" Thomas shouted angrily.
All knights imdiately circulated their fighting energy, using their own power to resist the invasive will, the scene akin to sparkling flas burning in a snowy night.
An invisible ntal struggle burst forth in silence.
After several seconds, the whisper receded, and the oppressive feeling ebbed like the tide.
The knights knelt gasping, cold sweat soaking through their inner armor, none dared to look directly at the mural again.
Thomas’s face was ashen, a drop of cold sweat hanging by his temple: "No... this is definitely not sothing we can handle alone.
Our task is to bring the information back and let Lord Louis decide."
He turned to his team: "Retreat!"
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