Chapter 17 Need Help?

When the first malformed freak roared and charged, Agatha simply tilted her body slightly, and as she passed the enemy, she tapped the monster's limb lightly with her cane, instantly incinerating it in "Cremation." Before the pale flames touched the ground, she raised her cane and pointed it forward, drawing a dazzling white line from the fire and plunging it into the intersection ahead, burning the hideous monsters like spreading wildfire.

She tried to avoid large movements to reduce the impact of fatigue and pain, and also tried to avoid contact with those freaks to lessen mental exhaustion—because she didn't know how many endless monsters were waiting ahead, and she had to conserve her strength.

She wasn't against death. She knew that after her body died, she could still fight until she turned into ashes, and those ashes would float in this cursed place, continuously purifying the disgusting monsters. She was never afraid of all this, but before embracing death, she still wanted to investigate the truth here and stop the heretics' actions as much as possible.

The attacks she encountered along the way became more and more frequent, and the actions of those malformed freaks became more and more anxious, which already vaguely proved one thing—she was heading in the right direction, and the lair of those heretics was right ahead.

More and more black mud seeped out from the nearby walls and vaults. Every pore and every brick seam here was a breeding ground for those deformed things. Due to the terrain, the way these "imitations" appeared began to become more bizarre and difficult to deal with.

A slight hiss came from behind. Agatha felt a warning in her heart. She felt her body slow down due to fatigue, and she could only barely twist her body at the critical moment, using the cane in her hand to block in defense—accompanied by a sharp sting from her shoulder, she saw a dazzling spark erupt from the middle of the cane, and a figure in black, holding a Guardian's cane, was knocked away.

The figure landed on the ground and蠕动 (r蠕动: wriggled) up like some disgusting mollusk. It raised its head, and under the black top hat was a face that seemed to melt and slowly flow and deform. In that terrifying face, some familiar outlines could be vaguely identified.

The next second, the flowing face solidified, transforming into a young man with distinct facial lines—he looked up at Agatha, a look of confusion on his face: "Captain? What are you doing here?"

Agatha's fingers holding the cane turned slightly white, and her eyes froze for a second.

Almost at the same time, she heard a voice—that voice came from nowhere, as if the entire sewer was resonating. The voice whispered to her: "Ah, you recognized him—when you weren't the Gatekeeper yet, your loyal deputy covered your retreat from the darkness... you left him there... bring him back, how about it?"

Agatha did not respond, but silently stepped forward. After three steps, she turned into a gust of gray wind, and then the wind suddenly stopped and condensed in front of the young "Guardian." When her figure reappeared, the tin cane in her hand had been deeply inserted into the black-clad Guardian's chest.

The young black-clad Guardian looked at this scene in astonishment, as if he couldn't believe that he would die at the hands of his deeply trusted "Captain," but suddenly, he seemed to understand something, and a soft murmur came from his throat: "So it's over..."

"Sorry, it will be over soon," Agatha said softly.

The young black-clad Guardian slowly lowered his head and laughed: "Captain, you have finally mastered the power of the Wind of Ashes..."

"Yes, I practiced for a long time," Agatha said softly. Pale flames rose before her eyes, and the "black-clad Guardian's" body melted and disintegrated in the "Cremation," turning into black dust on the ground.

"Decisive, ruthless, very befitting of your identity as a saint of the God of Death."

That disgusting voice echoed again. Agatha turned around, but saw more malformed freaks taking shape, and "imitations" were swarming towards her from all directions—the owner of that voice obviously didn't believe in chivalry. Even while "attacking the mind," he was constantly directing these minions to attack her.

The sound of flames exploding, the sound of canes striking back, and the sound of air being torn apart echoed in the underground corridor. Agatha resisted the attacks of the deformed things while speaking in a deep voice: "These little tricks can only irritate me, but they can't delay my steps—on the contrary, anger will only make me find your hiding place faster, what good will that do you?"

"...Indeed, you are angry, and you look even fiercer than before, but it doesn't matter—appropriate emotional fluctuations are also necessary, Ms. Gatekeeper."

The voice echoing in the corridor seemed to be gradually fading away, but Agatha's heart stirred—appropriate emotional fluctuations are also necessary? What does this sentence mean?

However, no one here could answer her question. The owner of that voice had only one purpose, to continuously weaken her strength and delay her steps by using cannon fodder. Now he was gone, and all that was left here was another batch of monsters that had just "seeped" out from the surrounding walls.

Agatha's eyes narrowed, and she once again faced her enemies.

"Our warriors are engaged with the enemy!"

A green flame suddenly cut through the dimness of the Second Waterway. The figure of the pigeon Iyi rushed out of the flames and "smashed" directly onto Duncan's shoulder, flapping its wings vigorously and making sharp, noisy calls.

This suddenly窜 (cuàn: darting) out of the silly bird and its sharp shouts startled Duncan, even almost scaring off Alice's head.

Duncan, who had been searching in this dry and empty underground corridor for half a day, immediately stared and turned his head to look at the fiery pigeon spirit on his shoulder: "What are you screaming about?"

Iyi tilted its head, its small eyes staring straight at Duncan, nodded solemnly, and said: "Our scout is under attack! Our scout is under attack! The battle situation is too unfavorable for us... our warriors are engaged with the enemy!"

Alice, holding her head, leaned over: "Captain, is Iyi having a tummy ache?"

Iyi turned its head and glared at the doll, stretched out its neck and pecked the latter's head twice, making a "dong dong" sound, and then shouted with its throat: "Is it appropriate? Is it appropriate? Is it appropriate..."

Alice cried out in alarm when she was pecked, and ran away holding her head.

Duncan didn't pay attention to the movement around him. His expression had already become serious after hearing Iyi's second shout, and then he looked thoughtfully in a certain direction.

"You two be quiet," after a few seconds, he suddenly broke the silence, looking at the intersection on the other side of the corridor with a particularly solemn expression, "Iyi may have sensed something."

Alice instantly became quiet and looked in the direction where Duncan was looking.

"It's the mark I left... it's that 'Gatekeeper'," Duncan's voice sounded as he stepped forward, "She's nearby."

Alice looked in that direction, and then suddenly widened her eyes.

"Ah, a thread!"

The doll girl let out a short exclamation, and then ran over quickly—she was even faster than Duncan, like an impatient child about to grab a balloon that was about to fly away, she trotted to the vicinity of the intersection, and then jumped up to grab something invisible in the air.

Duncan only saw Alice running over, jumping in front to grab something in the air, and then, he seemed to vaguely see something really appearing in Alice's hand.

Some white, almost transparent, slightly refracting ambient light in the air... threads.

He walked over quickly, and Alice turned her head, a happy and bright smile on her face.

"I caught..."

The doll girl's happy smile only lasted for a moment. The next second, the vague thread in her hand suddenly began to shatter and break, and quickly dissipated into the air like accelerated weathering.

"Ah!" Alice exclaimed, "The thread is broken!"

But before her exclamation could finish, a tall and burly figure had already walked quickly from the side. Duncan reached out towards the broken and weathered "thread," and a strand of thread that was about to completely dissipate fell into his hand.

Instantly, a layer of ghostly green fire was dyed on the thread.

Duncan slowly turned his head. He looked at Alice's eyes, and in Alice's wide eyes was reflected a cluster of jumping ghostly green.

"I caught it." Duncan said softly.

A malformed freak turned into ashes in pale flames, and another malformed freak had its head smashed by a cane and collapsed like soft mud. Agatha turned her body, and the fighting cane in her hand cut through the air and slammed hard at the last enemy still standing at the intersection.

Then, her movement suddenly stopped.

Completely out of instinct, without even having time to think, a huge sense of fear and deterrence had directly shocked all of her mind. She even felt her muscles and bones making an ear-piercing and terrifying creaking sound at that moment. A powerful force originating from spiritual intuition—or even a direct warning from Bartok, the God of Death—suddenly stopped her movement.

She saw her cane stop, stopping less than a few millimeters away from the head of the last "imitation" that had just crawled out of the mud.

Her eyes widened as she watched the humanoid figure formed entirely of flowing mud slowly raise its head, its head gradually condensing into a pair of eyes, ghostly green flames burning on the surface of its body, and a low voice crackling in the flames.

"Agatha, need help?"