Chapter 399

Chapter 399: Connection

When the first deformed freak rushed at her with a roar, Agatha only shifted her body a little to the side. At the moment they passed each other, she tapped the monster’s limb lightly with her Gatekeeper’s cane. The creature burst at once into Cremation Fire. Before that pale flame could hit the floor, she lifted her Gatekeeper’s cane and pointed forward. She drew a blinding white line out from the flame. It fell into the junction ahead and spread like flowing fire, burning the ugly monsters there.

She tried her best not to make big movements, to lessen the strain of tiredness and pain. At the same time, she tried to avoid direct contact with the freaks as much as she could, so she would not spend too much of her strength and spirit. She did not know how many endless monsters were waiting for her ahead. She had to save her strength.

She did not resist death. She knew that even after this body died, it could still fight until it became ash. That ash would float in this cursed place and keep purifying these disgusting monsters. She had never feared any of that. But before she embraced death, she still wanted to find out the truth here and do all she could to stop the Heretics’ plans.

Along the way, she had been attacked more and more often. The movements of the twisted freaks grew more and more frantic. This had already faintly proved one thing—she had chosen the right direction. The lair of the Heretics lay ahead.

More black sludge seeped from the nearby walls and from the arching ceiling. Every gap and every crack between the bricks here was a breeding ground for these twisted things. Because of the terrain, the way these replicas appeared was becoming more eerie and more troublesome.

A faint hissing sound came from behind her, to the side. Agatha felt a warning rise in her heart. Her body felt slow with fatigue. At the crucial moment, she barely managed to twist around and bring up her Gatekeeper’s cane to block.

A sharp stab of pain shot from her shoulder. Sparks burst from the middle of the Gatekeeper’s cane. A black-clad figure who also held a Gatekeeper’s cane in his hand was knocked flying.

The figure hit the ground, then crawled back up again, squirming like some disgusting soft-bodied creature. He lifted his head. Under his black hat was a face that seemed to be melting, slowly flowing and twisting out of shape. In that horrible face, she could still faintly pick out some familiar lines.

In the next second, that flowing face solidified. It became a young man with clear, sharp features. He looked up at Agatha with a confused expression and said: “Captain? What are you doing here?”

Agatha’s fingers tightened around her Gatekeeper’s cane until they turned slightly white. Her eyes froze for a second.

Almost at the same time, she heard a voice.

She did not know where it came from. It was as if the whole sewer was echoing. The voice whispered to her:

“Ah, you recognized him. Back when you were not yet a Gatekeeper, your loyal vice-captain covered your retreat from the darkness… You left him there… Take him back with you, how about it?”

Agatha gave no answer. She only walked forward in silence. After three steps, she turned into a gust of Ashen Wind. The wind stopped and gathered in front of the young “Guardian.” When her figure appeared again, her tin Gatekeeper’s cane was already buried deep in the chest of the black-clad Guardian.

The young black-clad guard stared at the scene in shock, as if he could not believe he would die at the hands of the “Captain” he trusted so much. Then suddenly, he seemed to understand something. A soft whisper came from his throat: “So it’s finally over…”

“Sorry,” Agatha said softly. “It will be over soon.”

The young black-clad guard slowly lowered his head and let out a small laugh. “Captain, you finally mastered the power of Ashen Wind…”

“Yes. I trained for a long time.” Agatha spoke softly. Pale flame rose before her eyes. The black-clad guard’s body melted and broke apart in the Cremation Fire, turning into a pile of black dust.

“Decisive. Cold. Very fitting for your role as the God of Death’s Saint.”

That disgusting voice echoed again. Agatha turned around and saw more twisted freaks taking shape. replicas surged at her from all directions. Their Master clearly knew nothing of Knightly spirit. Even while he tried to attack her heart, he kept sending these lackeys to attack her.

The sound of exploding flames, of the Gatekeeper’s cane striking back, and of air being torn apart echoed in the underground corridor. While Agatha held off the twisted things, she spoke in a low voice: “These little tricks can only anger me. They can’t slow my steps. On the contrary, anger only makes me find your lair faster. How does that help you?”

“…True enough. You’re angry. You look even fiercer than before. But that’s fine—some emotional fluctuation is quite necessary, Miss Gatekeeper.”

The voice that echoed in the corridor seemed to drift farther away. Agatha’s heart gave a little jolt.

Some emotional fluctuation is quite necessary? What was that supposed to mean?

But there was no one left here to answer her question. The Master of that voice had only one goal: to use cannon fodder to slowly wear down her strength and delay her steps. Now he had gone. The only things left here were yet another batch of monsters that had just “seeped” out from the walls around her.

Agatha’s eyes sharpened. She went to meet her enemies again.

…

“Our Warrior is fighting the enemy!”

A streak of green fire suddenly tore through the gloom of the Second Waterway. The shape of the pigeon, AI, shot out from the flames and crashed straight down onto Duncan’s shoulder. It flapped its wings hard and let out sharp, shrill cries.

The stupid bird that had suddenly burst out, and its piercing screech, made Duncan jump. It almost scared Alice’s head right off.

Duncan had already been searching this dry, empty underground corridor for quite a while. Now he stared and turned his head to look at the Pigeon Spirit burning all over on his shoulder: “What are you screeching about?”

AI tilted its head. Its small eyes stared straight at Duncan. It nodded with a serious look and said: “Our Scout Maiden was attacked! Our Scout Maiden was attacked! The battle is going badly for us… Our Warrior is fighting the enemy!”

Alice came over, holding her head. “Captain, did AI eat something bad?”

AI turned its head and glared at the Doll. It stretched out its neck and pecked twice at her skull, making a hollow “thunk, thunk” sound. Then it squawked at the top of its lungs: “Is that okay, is that okay, is that okay…”

Alice let out a yelp at the pecks, hugged her head, and ran.

Duncan did not pay much attention to the ruckus beside him. The moment he heard AI shout the same thing the second time, his face had already grown serious. Right after that, he looked thoughtfully in one direction.

“You two, quiet,” he said suddenly after a few seconds, breaking the silence. His face looked especially grave as he stared toward a junction on the other side of the corridor. “AI might have sensed something.”

Alice went quiet at once and looked in the direction of Duncan’s gaze.

“It’s the mark I left… It’s that ‘Gatekeeper,’” Duncan said as he stepped forward. “She’s nearby.”

Alice stared at that direction, then suddenly her eyes widened.

“Ah, there are threads!”

The Doll Miss let out a short cry, then rushed over at once—she even ran faster than Duncan. She was like an anxious child trying to grab a balloon that was about to fly away. She ran straight to the junction and then jumped up, grabbing at something invisible in the air.

Duncan only saw Alice run ahead and jump around, trying to grab at the air. Then he seemed to faintly see something appear in Alice’s hand.

They were white, almost transparent, and they bent the light of the corridor just a little… threads.

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

“I caught—”

The Doll Miss’s happy smile lasted only a moment. In the next second, the faint threads in her hand suddenly began to break and snap. They crumbled and faded away quickly in the air, as if they were weathering at high speed.

“Ah!” Alice cried out. “The threads broke!”

Before her cry had even finished, a tall, broad-shouldered figure had already strode up from the side. Duncan reached toward the breaking, weathering “threads”—and a little piece of thread that was about to vanish completely fell into his hand.

In an instant, a layer of ghostly green fire spread along the line.

Duncan slowly turned his head. He looked into Alice’s eyes. In Alice’s wide eyes, a small flicker of ghostly green danced.

“I’ve got it,” Duncan said softly.

…

One twisted freak turned to ash in pale flame. Another had its head smashed by the Gatekeeper’s cane and slumped down like soft mud. Agatha turned her body. The fighting Gatekeeper’s cane in her hand sliced through the air and came down hard toward the last enemy still standing at the junction.

Then her movement suddenly stopped.

It was pure instinct. She had no time to think. Huge fear and awe slammed straight into her mind and froze it. She even felt her muscles and bones let out a sharp, awful creaking sound. A powerful force from her Spiritual Insight—maybe even a direct warning from the God of Death, Bartok—suddenly halted her attack.

She saw her Gatekeeper’s cane stop. It hung there, less than a few millimeters from the head of the last “replica” that had just crawled out of the sludge.

Her eyes opened wide as she watched the human-shaped figure, its whole body made from flowing mud, slowly raise its head. A pair of eyes slowly formed where its head should be. ghostly green flame began to burn along the surface of its body. A deep voice crackled out from within the fire:

“Agatha, need help?”