When You're Depraved Enough, a World Full of Disgust Will Make Way for You

"We're heading to hell, everyone. Why not smile and make this journey a little more legendary?"

Diakum cracked a joke before the city platform of Oribos, the Eternal City.

Unfortunately, no one around him got the joke. Even the Death Marquises from Maldraxxus wore grave expressions.

Blackhand was especially tense, gripping his weapon tightly as though the moment he jumped from the heart of the Eternal City and landed in The Maw, he would be surrounded by the Jailer's vast army of Mawsworn. He would have to personally hack down several thousand Mawsworn to break out, then find a foothold and begin a long, tedious series of quests.

But in truth, this trip to The Maw was nowhere near as dangerous as they imagined.

The reason was simple.

The Jailer had invited them here. They were not rudely kicking down his door without warning and triggering a series of hostile acts of war.

Still, the warriors of the four Covenants had not yet fully assembled in Oribos.

Moving personnel took time. Besides, aside from Ardenweald and Maldraxxus, whose systems remained relatively intact, the other two Covenants were in the miserable stage of "post-disaster reconstruction." The fact that they could spare any manpower at all was already impressive.

The fate of the Shadowlands had only collapsed, not completely fallen apart. The Kyrian still needed to send people out to guide souls, while the Venthyr, under the command of the Court of Harvesters, had resumed judging the souls of sinners.

Even if Oribos's Eternal Arbiter had long since shut down.

Speaking of which, the Attendants of the Gods in Oribos had indeed vanished without a trace. When they asked the city's "locals," they learned that after confirming the Eternal Arbiter could not be repaired, those Attendants had mysteriously gathered to discuss something.