"Thrilling indeed."
The Mad Monk stamped his approval on this new discovery, as usual, in high spirits.
After Teest finished speaking, he snuck glances at Nol. However, Nol was no longer the naive young man who would become dejected and depressed by such things. After a brief moment of shock, he straightened up, quickly regaining his composure.
"You're taking it quite well," Nol said first.
"Look at you. I'm only twenty-eight years old—I'm much older than the real history of this world! As for the rest, let those fools who boast about their ancient families worry about it." Teest turned half a circle on the spot, showing off his "prime of life".
He kept his eyes on Nol while speaking.
Nol sighed, stepped forward, and covered Teest's eyes with his palm. "I'm fine, just thinking about something."
"Like what?" The succubus tail quietly circled behind Nol, its tip sliding from the nape of his neck to his tailbone.
"If Tahe has only existed for a little over two hundred years, it means the Goddess of Life and the Eternal Son aren't as ancient as they claim."
Nol let the tail tip prod him. "The situation with the Demon King is different. If those two gods really turned against each other, dealing with a 'few hundred year old monster' is much easier than facing a 'thousands of years old demon'. For us, this is good news."
"You're becoming more positive," Teest praised. "I love your aggressive ideas."
It's not like that. Nol withdrew his hand, his fingertips brushing through Teest's long hair.
Even if the world fell apart, standing next to the Mad Monk, there would always be bubbles of "no problem" and "how interesting" above his head. Things usually felt lighter when one had a knight who was always cheerful and never backed down—
As if what they faced wasn't an urgent problem but a thoroughly thrilling adventure.
"We'll proceed as usual tomorrow," Nol said.
They would first find the elite team of Eugene and Hot Ash, assess the Demon King's situation, and then complete the undead knight's mission. But before that…
"You take the knight back first. I have something else to do," Nol said with a smile.
In the shadowy bushes, the blue fire ignited twice. The first time at midnight, the second at dusk.
...
Not long ago, Nol and Eugene's knight group traversed the Brick Mountains to deal with The Manor. At that time, the environment near the mountains wasn't this ominous—
If it was said that the area around the Brick Mountains was only somewhat terrifying during the "White Night". Now the phenomenon seemed diluted and semi-permanently fixed around them.
The air, soil, and water were all permeated with a faint taint of the Demon King's corruption. Plants either died or turned an unnatural gray and had spot that looked like black eyeballs. Most of the birds and beasts had fled, with the remaining ones becoming deformed corpses laying rigid in the mud.
Food, if left out for more than half an hour, developed a layer of grayish, fungus-like substance, turning foul and inedible. Water transformed into a viscous black-gray liquid, clearly undrinkable. It was fortunate that Players generally had inventory slots, as a normal army conducting reconnaissance would struggle immensely just with water supply.
Even the snow on the mountaintops turned dirty, and the sky gradually reddened, causing discomfort to everyone.
Nol could feel that the closer they moved towards the Endless Sea, the stronger the strange oppressive sensation became. It felt as if his insides were being gnawed at, constantly ground between teeth.
After descending the mountain, the pain peaked.
Before them lay the infamous "Brick Shadow". While the creatures of the Black Forest were more forest and mountain-oriented, those in the Brick Shadow leaned towards swamps and coasts.
The bushes here were much shorter than those in the Black Forest, dark, and crowded together like a solidified crowd.
The sky had turned completely dark red, and the land was frighteningly black. The air was so polluted that Abandon kept coughing, his face turning purple. Solo constantly checked his communication crystal every few seconds—as soon as they stepped onto this land, filth began to seep into the crystal, like blood.
"￥#%#￥#%@…" Abandon stomped on the heavy, wet mud, muttering something under his breath.
What?
Nol cleaned his ears, suspecting he was hallucinating due to the severe pain in his stomach.
"@#￥@*#$!" Solo furrowed his brows, responding to Abandon as if in conversation.
"%￥#." Abandon clicked his tongue.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Teest asked straightforwardly.
Painter suddenly stopped walking. "%@#&?"
"I still don't understand what you're saying." Teest shrugged his shoulders. He flicked his fingers, and numerous golden threads appeared in front of everyone, blocking their path.
"￥￥#——!?!?" Abandon screamed when he saw the golden threads. He tried to run away but was compassionately held back by Solo.
He shivered and looked around at everyone, finding them all stationary, their gazes gradually becoming desperate.
"I don't understand either." Nol moved two steps, blocking Abandon's last escape route.
"At least we can still talk to each other." His knight winked at him. "So, the problem isn't too big."
Painter stopped talking. He narrowed his green eyes and fell into deep thought. After a few seconds, he waved his brush wand, and a line of shimmering text appeared in the air: [Can you understand this?]
"Yes."
After Nol responded, he suddenly realized the issue—the group could still understand him and Teest speaking! Not to mention Players with language skills—even Painter could understand!
Anakin pursed her lips, summoning a system pop-up. The pop-up, tinged with brown murkiness, had distorted text—
[Language Proficiency [%amp;&￥ Abnormal]]
Nol glanced at Painter, setting the pop-up to be visible only to himself. In his pop-up, the language proficiency skill showed no issues. He looked at Teest, who also shook his head slightly.
[Our language skills have a problem.] Anakin wrote quickly.
[What I first said was that I never felt such a lack of oxygen, even in the highlands. Solo said we all feel the same. Just bear with it.] Abandon hurriedly responded.
Solo became upset, grabbing a branch and writing rapidly: [I didn't say that! I heard you say you were too tired from walking and wanted to rest. I told you to complain less, lunch is soon.]
[The Mad Monk asked, "What the hell are you talking about?" right?] Painter's handwriting was unexpectedly elegant and beautiful. [Then the gentleman from Paradise said, "I don't understand either". I heard it that way.]
[Yes, yes, yes.]
[Me too.]
[I also.]
The others quickly wrote their responses. Nol and Teest exchanged a glance and nodded in agreement.
[In my humble opinion, what we just said might not be any language at all. Everyone was just making random sounds and imagining the other person's response—sometimes it might match, sometimes it might not.] Painter wrote swiftly. [Only those two gentlemen were still using normal common language. It's not strange we could understand.]
[This is very likely the influence of the Demon King.] Fischer rarely joined the conversation actively. His expression grew serious, and his eyes showed a subtle sense of age. [Usually, people are exposed to only inactive corruption, which doesn't have such a great impact. According to our records, near the Demon King, living beings' senses and thoughts get gradually distorted.]
Abandon looked shocked at this "teenage siren".
[We have similar records on our side. Originally, because of the interference, the war to defeat the Demon King was that difficult.] Painter raised an eyebrow, calmly continuing, [The closer to the Demon King, the greater the influence. It seems the Demon King isn't far from the continent of Tahe.]
[So we need the protection of God!] The former High Priest seized the opportunity to speak, as the atmosphere was right. [Mortals cannot oppose the Demon King. If it weren't for the outliers among us, we wouldn't have noticed the anomalies so soon.]
[You've said so much, but why exactly are the Mad [crossed out] succubus and the Master from Paradise unaffected?] Abandon was on the verge of tears.
A typical Tahe trick, huh? Lure him into the mountains, then tell him the succubus knight is the Mad Monk, with no way to escape! Anakin and Solo must have been in on it, and these two actually kept silent!
At this point, his only option was to desperately seek a way out.
[Actually, there's an interesting theory within the Temple of Life.] Painter looked around at everyone, then slowly began to write: [Some magic researchers claim that "the power of the Demon King" and "the authority of the gods" are essentially no different.]
Fischer's eyebrows twitched, but he didn't object.
[Those researchers argued that the battle of the two gods against the Demon King could also be interpreted as a battle between gods—two benevolent gods standing beside living beings, fighting against an evil god who wanted to destroy the world.]
[Unfortunately, the Temple of Life and the Eternal Church are opposed.] Fischer lifted his chin, his pen sharp as a knife. [If we use that version of the legend, the poor bishops will have to explain "why the two benevolent gods are opposed" and "why the Eternal Son, an evil god, would be so hostile to another evil god". It's easier for the public to understand the story of the gods wounding the Demon King and then turning against each other.]
[Exactly.] Painter smiled.
[But you still haven't explained why those two are unaffected!] Abandon wrote in despair.
Anakin grabbed his wildly scribbling wrist, her face somewhat pale.
[According to them, the power of all beings in Tahe (including Players) is given by the gods.] Anakin wrote in neat, delicate script. [The Demon King is essentially a god, and everyone's 'gift of the gods' is being disrupted by the power of another god, which is why problems are occurring.]
By this point, even the slow-witted Abandon had caught on.
The clash of god-level powers, with mortals suffering, was only natural. But the presence of two unaffected individuals made things interesting.
But the thought was somewhat frightening, and with the situation unclear, everyone tacitly maintained silence. Painter looked deeply at Nol, then glanced over at Teest.
Nol's fingertips pressed tightly against his palm—
He was aware of his own uniqueness.
His peculiar discomfort might be another form of "Demon King influence"—against ordinary people, the Demon King simply rolled over them with corruption. But against a potential "opponent" of a similar level, it was targeted suppression.
His goal in coming here, besides rescuing Hot Ash, wasn't much different from Hot Ash's. He just wanted to make a necessary inspection along the way. Nol felt bitter inside. The Demon King had overestimated him. Currently, he couldn't even defeat a dragon clan leader, so how could he face off against the legendary Demon King?
The question was, if he really had some "godly" status due to the system's [Breath of a Demigod], making him a target of the Demon King, then why was Teest's situation more similar to his "Demigod" than other Players?
…Death Knights sounded cool, but if it came to comparing stats, there were many monsters stronger than Teest.
Never mind. He had insufficient information, so there was no point in overthinking now.
Nol raised his staff and cast a long-lasting purification spell. Teest also tacitly erected a protective shield. With these combined efforts, everyone finally regained basic communication ability.
Abandon and Solo explored ahead for footprints, and the group continued forward.
Compared to before, the expressions of the group were much more interesting. Aside from Abandon, who was full of fear, and the two siblings worried about the Saints, the rest, including the former Pope and High Priest, had contemplative expressions.
Their only difference was that Painter occasionally looked at Nol, marching in step, while Fischer's gaze stuck to Teest, who was humming a tune.
This peculiar atmosphere didn't last long.
The group hadn't expected to find the elite team of the Saints Guild so close to the Brick Mountains. Just over two hours after crossing the Brick Mountains, they found the base of the elite team.
The squad stopped in the distance, Teest's humming abruptly cutting off.
Seeing the scene inside the base, he drew a sharp breath and whistled. "Impressive."
Now they understood why no new distress signals had come out.
The camp was a scene of utter chaos, like a vision of the apocalypse.
Tents were haphazardly collapsed, and food on the tables had long turned into spoiled and tainted remains. The soup pots were dried up, emitting an unpleasant odor. Precious scrolls and records were scattered everywhere, trampled into the mud.
These powerful Players were still alive, but just "alive".
Their bodies had various deformities, like clay roughly kneaded by children, few retaining a human shape—heads melted into chests, hands dangling to the ground, limbs bent for walking, and many twisting on the ground.
Surprisingly, these Players weren't desperately struggling in their deformed state. They seemed to be mimicking normal life. If this "normal life" didn't clash so starkly with the environment, it might even seem somewhat bearable.
In places without chairs and tables, Players bent their bodies, "sitting" in mid-air. They leaned against non-existent tables, using invisible cups and plates to eat and drink, chatting in an indecipherable language, occasionally bursting into exaggerated laughter.
Pretending to read, pretending to cook, pretending to hawk goods… These deformed Players were performing a prop-less game of house in front of them.
"Fuck." Solo couldn't help but curse, while Abandon reacted more directly—he turned his head and vomited without a second's hesitation.
"There's no Hot Ash or Eugene… no Hot Ash or Eugene…"
Anakin forced herself to watch those disfigured comrades. For the first time, Nol noticed her shaking so intensely.
He took a deep breath and raised his staff high. A cyan-blue Paradise marker appeared above the camp, emitting concentric circles of magical fluctuations. It was very close.
In less than two seconds, a corner of the camp burst with platinum sparks—strikingly conspicuous in this dim, dark red environment.
"Ah, it's the Temple's distress signal." Painter scratched his face. "I should have kept my disguise. But for Eugene, it probably wouldn't have mattered."
Nol: "You plan to…?"
"For now, do nothing. After all, if Mr. Eugene makes a move, he'll probably target Fischer first."
Painter spread his hands. "Don't worry about it. That kid, though a fanatic, knows what's important and wouldn't be foolish enough to cause internal strife in this situation."
Fischer rolled his eyes dramatically.
Abandon looked suspiciously at his roommate, then glanced empathetically at Teest, wisely remaining silent.
Stepping over the muddy, filthy land, Nol successfully located them. Throughout, the crazed Players didn't spare them a glance.
As it turned out, Mr. Painter's worries were unnecessary.
The two survivors—Hot Ash and Eugene—still had their wits. Hot Ash was in a better state, but Eugene was on the verge of madness.
He had been sustaining a purification spell around them, barely protecting about one square meter of land. Eugene's face was ashen, his eyes unfocused, showing clear signs of magical exhaustion.
Hot Ash wasn't much better. His mana was probably long depleted—even a mage wouldn't last this long, let alone two knights.
Painter sighed softly, asking Annakin for a mana recovery potion. He held Eugene's head and, in sync with the purification spell, quickly poured the potion into Eugene's throat.
The former Pope's actions were gentle enough, yet Knight Eugene almost choked. After a long bout of coughing, he instinctively grabbed Painter's wrist and downed the remaining potion.
Then, Knight Eugene closed his eyes and collapsed. Painter twirled a finger beside his nose. "Physical and magical exhaustion. He's asleep."
After saying this, Painter casually let go, and Eugene's head banged into the mud.
Simultaneously, Nol cast numerous recovery spells on Hot Ash. Abandon and Solo dragged him into the range of Nol's purification magic.
Hot Ash, still possessing some sanity and able to move, poured several bottles of water into his helmet, gasping for about twenty-five minutes before managing to speak.
He wasn't a Death Knight. His eyes were obscured by the shadow of his helmet, and it was unclear who he was looking at.
"The Demon King… The Demon King is on Desolation Island…"
The server's top Player reached out and grabbed Teest, the closest to him. "It's not… It can't be a plot boss, too sinister… Everyone is totally unprepared… Tell Amazon to retreat quickly…"
"The Demon King is about to… land…"