Chapter 60: The Exit of the Warren

...

As Salser ventured further into the passage, the true inconvenience of the place dawned on him. It was a cramped corridor squeezed between numerous towering structures, reminiscent of hastily constructed shantytowns where rabbit-hole-sized shacks were piled up like garbage. The walls on both sides were tall and narrow, askew, barely allowing the moonlight to penetrate, frequently blocked by shacks that jutted through the walls, obstructing the alleyway—a realization that aptly aligned with Salser's perception of the area as a veritable garbage heap.

The paths here twisted and turned, with corridors and haphazardly built shacks intersecting like a maze. Fortunately, Jeanne seemed to know the way, leading him through the twists and turns as if she had lived here for decades.

Following the dark passage, Salser trailed Jeanne into a square-shaped courtyard akin to a narrow, cramped well.

This was a communal courtyard for the residents.

In the heart of the well-shaped courtyard, a stone fountain stood, now overrun with weeds and dried up. A dark, purplish-black, viscous liquid swirled within the pool,  bubbling and gurgling like the terrifying concoction of a witch from folklore. Numerous staircases lined the courtyard walls, some crafted from stone, others from wood. Upon ascending these, one could observe corridors that wrapped around the four walls.

These corridors served as entrances, leading to the homes of the residents, with most of the doors separating the corridors being shabby, low-quality drapes.

The arrival of the Blood Moon brought an eerie silence to the place, making the shantytown-like area devoid of any human presence.

Clearly, the majority of them were parading and reveling in the streets, welcoming the descent of the Moon Goddess.

The two stopped beside the fountain overgrown with weeds, standing on soft ground.

"The theoretical exit of the Warren is right up ahead," Jeanne told him.

"I had no idea you were acquainted with this locale."

"Your sleep schedule's way off mine, and it's causing me trouble," Jeanne said, staring at him for a moment before adding, "Once we hit Cast City, I'll be setting your sleep schedule straight."

"Even my dear mother, in her living days, refrained from dictating my sleep schedule!"

"I'm no mother of yours, but you are a knight under my command," Jeanne said with a twisted laugh. Under the glow of the Blood Moon, the gash on her left cheek made her smile particularly unsettling, "No time for chatter, this is a heads-up. I'm not asking for your input, just keep following me."

She took a step forward.

Then came a reverberation, an eerie echo that pierced through the entire city, disorienting his sanity.

It was as deep as the ocean's lament and as shrill as a baby's cry, distant yet near,  as if countless unseen hands were peeling away his consciousness—irresistible and inescapable.

He collapsed to the ground, clutching Viola, who was also on the verge of losing consciousness, his head reeling before colliding with Jeanne's waist, hearing her let out a low groan of pain.

After a while, relying on his resistance to the Outer God's Warren acquired over the years, Salser managed to stand up with difficulty.

He raised his gaze, dumbfounded. What he beheld was a blood-red surge of magic, piercing the sky like a spear magnified a thousandfold, stretching out into a colossal cross that traversed the entire horizon, shimmering with dazzling blood-red light against the overcast night, discernible even from kilometers away.

It was this light that nearly stripped away his consciousness.

Truth above, an Outer God's spell?

"Damn that Evil God..." Jeanne lay on the ground, groaning hoarsely, "I can't get up..."

...

Salser navigated the dark passage, enclosed by walls on all sides, cradling Jeanne in his arms, who had been impacted by the Outer God and was still recovering. Viola sat directly on his neck, her body limp, drooping over the back of his head, her legs dangling over his shoulders.

I'll never come back to this cursed place.

A nebulous, long-haired ghostly figure emerged from the drapes on either side of the corridor and lunged at them.

A second later, white phosphorescent flames erupted like a fountain, setting it ablaze. A white-flamed cobra over a man's height pounced, swallowing the screaming ghost whole.

"Your arm's on my back wound," Jeanne suddenly said.

"Why are you so demanding!?" Salser exclaimed in surprise, then choked on his breath, coughing, "This is a princess carry! Befitting only a princess, theoretically speaking! Show some respect, for gods' sake!"

"Never heard of that theory, you're probably pulling it out of thin air," 

Another ghost, from the left, further away, drawing closer.

Salser ignored the creature and continued to run forward with the person in his arms. "We're very close," Jeanne said.

Her left hand rested on Salser's shoulder, then Viola reached out and grasped her wrist, pulling her up with effort. With this support, Jeanne managed to straighten her body slightly, her face pale. She watched the corridor recede with a cold gaze, scanning the dilapidated drapes that were either open or closed:

"First order of business once we're out is to patch me up and gear up for a fight. The Warren's exit is cultist-made, so there'll be cultists waiting outside for sure."

After a pause, she frowned again, "Your right hand is pressing against the wound on my waist."

"You're really demanding."

"Every order I give is critical, got it?"

Jeanne rested her head against Viola's hanging legs, watching the cobra wreathed in flames swallow the ghost whole.

The sound of an owl flapping its wings came from behind.

"No, I don't," Salser spat and then quickened his pace.

Ahead, in the middle of the corridor, a curtain seemed to tear open, faintly revealing the pale moonlight. The entrance of the Warren, the entrance from the Outer God's Warren to the real world.

...

Salser leaned Jeanne against a tree, while Viola jumped down from his shoulders. He began to ignite spare spirits to infuse life force into the Inquisitor, healing her wounds. Moonlight filtered through the layers of branches and dark pines, falling on the soft grass. The forest on this early summer night was filled with an eerie silence, as if the end was approaching not just for the daylight.

Her wounds gradually healed.

Suddenly, a blood-red long blade precisely pierced through Salser's heart, and he fell to his knees, staring at the blade protruding from his chest.

Jeanne watched blankly as a female hand pulled the blade out, and the Dark wizard fell into her arms.

"Oi! YOU—" she panicked and shouted, holding onto the Dark wizard's shoulders.

Salser felt the warmth of Jeanne's breath, as he pretended to cough painfully.

"Don't shout, I'm not dying; this body ceased being human long ago," he communicated to Jeanne through a soul link, "Just pretend I'm dead for now, and drive the Hound back into the Warren before discussing anything else."

Salser's words pulled her out of her inexplicable panic, and then she exhaled a sigh of relief.

"One down," the Hound said with a clear laugh, "And then there's the second."

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