Whispers of the Abyss

"Hey, hey, hey, stop spacing out."

Xia Lin kicked a pebble by the War Priest's feet, trying to draw the attention of the War Priest, who had gone completely rigid.

The guy was still frozen in his previous pose, mouth hanging open, disbelief written all over his eyes. His lips trembled as though he wanted to say something, yet not a single word came out.

Xia Lin ignored him and swept his gaze over the Inquisition personnel lying unconscious in the alley.

(All unconscious?)

The thought of gathering intelligence rose in his mind.

That War Priest clearly would not voluntarily reveal anything useful. Under normal interrogation, a fanatic like him would rather die than speak, and might even choose suicide.

Xia Lin slowly walked over to the War Priest, who was still muttering to himself.

"Y-you... what are you trying to do?" The cultist took a step back, trying to sound fierce while hiding his fear.

Xia Lin did not answer.

He closed his eyes and sank into his mindscape.

He drew upon the lingering aura of Dicasle, the Demon Lord who had been suppressed and "trained" by Seratalia.

Xia Lin opened his eyes.

He could feel the imprisoned remnant soul of the Demon Lord roaring unwillingly deep within his consciousness. But under Seratalia's control, that terrifying aura belonging to an Abyssal Lord was guided into Xia Lin's body.

Xia Lin took a deep breath.

This time, however, he did not speak Common.

He spoke Abyssal.

A language that no mortal throat should have been capable of producing.

"Come here, Lesser Beings."

Xia Lin's voice became low and heavy, as though countless voices were speaking at once.

The temperature in the air plummeted.

An invisible pressure radiated from Xia Lin, the absolute suppression of a being at the top of