Chapter 37: Still believing in the traditional goddess?

The red glow pierced the darkness, impossible to ignore.

A creature stood before them, unlike anything Cynthia had seen.

Its face bulged grotesquely, blood-red eyes on its cheeks, devoid of whites, glowing with an eerie light.
Two sharp black horns jutted from its head, goat-like in shape.
Yet its upper body was humanoid, dark red skin stretched over bulging muscles—Sarenda, the burly adventurer, would’ve looked puny beside it.
Its lower body sprouted brown, hairy legs, and spikes as sharp as its horns lined its back.

Red ripples pulsed outward from the creature, visible only to Cynthia.
Ina and Lorena showed no reaction to them.

“Is this the culprit?”

Lorena, calming herself, glared at the monster, her eyes burning with intent to shred it.

Before Cynthia could respond, the undead ahead flashed red, roaring with parched voices and charging.
Many still wielded their living weapons.

Clang!

Swords clashed in the waterway’s depths.
Lorena, caught by an undead with a long knife, struggled against its surprising strength, sliding back despite her full effort.

Cynthia couldn’t assist—she was shielding Ina, who, though not paralyzed by fear this time, was barely holding up against her undead phobia.

“Ina! Don’t freeze! Help Lorena!”

Cynthia’s shout jolted Ina’s near-shutdown mind.
Trembling, she raised her staff, swallowing hard as she saw Lorena’s plight.

“Lorena… hang on…”

Ina gripped the staff’s tip, dark elements swirling at its peak.
When they peaked, she yelled, “Lorena! Dodge!”

Lorena sidestepped, parrying the undead’s knife to expose its body.

Black meteors shot from Ina’s staff, piercing the undead’s torso and limbs like lasers, toppling it.

“Nice one, Miss Ina!”

Lorena followed up, her magic-infused blade severing the undead’s head in one stroke.

“Don’t relax. Cynthia’s got a swarm over there…”

Ina’s voice trailed off, realizing the gap in their strength.

Cynthia single-handedly held back a horde, many already incapacitated.
Only a few white-robed undead remained, their combat skills lackluster despite enhancements, their movements sluggish.

As Cynthia moved to strike, Lorena grabbed her collar, hesitating before speaking.
“Senior… let me handle them.”

Cynthia glanced at Lorena’s somber expression, then at the undead, understanding dawning.
“Fine.”

She stepped back.

“Thank you…”

Lorena’s lips were dry as she approached her former colleagues… friends.
“I’m sorry, Wei’er… I should’ve noticed sooner…”

The undead offered no reply, only guttural growls as they shuffled toward her.

Lorena’s sword, glowing with magic, swept through them.
Silence fell, broken only by bodies hitting the ground.

At the waterway’s heart, where drainage and supply channels converged, lay Bazerolle’s largest purification center.

Now, it was cloaked in red mist.

A massive bloodstone pulsed like a heart in the center.
A blond man in a white robe stood before it, caressing it with rapturous awe, as if beholding a divine masterpiece.

Tap, tap…

Footsteps echoed from the sewer.

“Ah… Lord Luofengte… such immense power… it’s exhilarating…”

The man spoke without turning, already knowing who approached.

“Someone’s breached my monsters and undead, nearing you,” said Luofengte, the goat-headed creature, its voice deep.
“You know what to do.”

“Rest assured, Lord Luofengte… no stranger will ruin our plan. All for our god’s return…”

The blond man turned, his eyes fully blood-red, mirroring Luofengte’s.

“This bloodstone is but a fragment of the demonic artifact’s power. When our god returns, greater strength awaits you.”

“I understand…”

The man grinned unnaturally, clapping his hands.
“Come, warriors of God…”

Figures emerged from the opposite passage—Paladins who once guarded the sewer entrances.

If Lorena were here, she’d recognize them.

But their holy light was gone, replaced by a tyrannical, terrifying aura.