第35章 免费顺风车

The blinding white light robbed the knights of all vision.

At the same time, [Soul-Binding Thread] shot from Isolde's sleeve, thin silver threads cinching around the throats and bodies of the two knights.

Isolde had never intended to give either of them a chance to raise the alarm.

The Soul Threads suddenly tightened, their terrifying cutting force biting into the gaps in the armor and forcibly sealing the knights' vocal cords just as they were about to shout.

The knight on the left reacted quickly. Relying on battle instinct, he activated the purification runes across his armor.

With a flash of holy light, he actually withstood the Soul Threads' first round of Strangulation.

He twisted his wrist, and the heavy lance swept out with a fierce gust of wind.

The spearhead nearly scraped past Isolde's ear.

Isolde took several steps back, her heart suddenly pounding.

The guards here were on an entirely different level from the idle rabble outside.

The knight on the left was willing to sacrifice one hand, and a faint holy sigil for communication had already lit up at his fingertips.

Seeing the communication spell about to take shape, Isolde did not hesitate. She swung the Holy Lamp and smashed it straight into the knight's face.

The knight stiffened.

He probably had not expected anyone to use the Holy Lamp worshipped by the Holy Court as a brick.

In that half-beat, Isolde used the Soul Threads to pull up a lance from the ground. Empowered by the threads, it flew up and drove into the gap in the shoulder armor of the knight on the right, who had just tried to break free.

The knight on the right let out a muffled groan, his knees crashing heavily onto the stone steps.

Isolde raised her hand and clenched it in the air.

[Target detected in a state of extreme fear]

[Soul severing damage greatly increased]

Strangulation.

Soul Threads grew from within the guard knights' bodies like thorns, shredding the souls inside them.

The Soul Threads acted directly on the soul, leaving no obvious wounds on the flesh.

Yet because of the Soul Threads, their soul bodies had already been shattered beyond recognition. Even the highest-ranked mage could never piece those fragments back together and revive them.

Of course, except for a Soul Stitcher.

Expressionless, Isolde brushed away some of the dust that had splashed onto her sleeve.

With a slight tug of her fingers, she controlled the binding threads to pull the two already-cold corpses, fixing them back into their original posts like puppets on strings.

As long as no one walked up close and examined them carefully, there was no way to spot any difference in the dim underground corridor.

The Stillbone Prayer Room lay ahead.

The stone steps were deep and endless, and Holy Lamps lined the walls on both sides.

The ghastly white eternal flames illuminated the place as brightly as day, seemingly placed there specifically to dispel the dark forces deep underground.

Even under the holy light, she could still feel a stinging pain like a struggle.

If not for the lingering sanctity of the Moon-Crowned Unicorn on her body, any ordinary witch standing here would likely have been roasted into a wisp of smoke by the pressure of these hundreds upon thousands of Holy Lamps.

Looking at the long chain of lights, Isolde could not help clicking her tongue inwardly.

How many living human hearts would it take to create such an eternally burning corridor?

Committing evil in the name of holiness—the order's hypocrisy was ironic to the extreme.

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At the end of the stone steps, a chill white glow seeped through the crack of a door.

Isolde strode to the tightly shut stone door and pressed the silver pass token into the mechanism's recess.

Amid a low grinding sound, the heavy stone door finally began to open inward, inch by inch.

The Stillbone Prayer Room was so bright that it did not seem underground.

The entire space seemed to have been forcibly hollowed out of the mountain. The surrounding walls were clean to the point of coldness, with no murals or the Holy Court's usual relief carvings—only pale bone pillars holding up the vault.

The floor was carved with glowing circular array patterns.

At the center of the array floated a half-human-height crystal of many colors.

The crystal was translucent, and seven lights slowly flowed within it.

Something resembling bones wrapped around it, smooth to the point of sanctity. Segment after segment encircled the outside of the crystal like a dismantled chain reassembled into a lock.

The Moon-Crown Lock.

Isolde stopped at the doorway, her breathing unconsciously growing lighter for a moment.

The closer she got, the hotter the Last-Wish Mark in her palm became.

In a daze, she seemed to hear wind and snow, and the scraping sound of a young beast's hooves dragged across stone slabs.

Ullr had said that the Moon-Crown Lock could imprison hatred, despair, sorrow, anger, and everything connected to darkness.

Then whose darkness had the Moon-Crown Lock imprisoned?

She took a deep breath and was about to continue forward when the corner of her eye abruptly caught her own shadow twisting strangely beneath her feet.

The next second, a mass of viscous darkness tore out of her shadow without warning. Like a slick tentacle, it reached toward the Moon-Crown Lock at the center.

Not good!

Silver Soul Threads shot forth, crisscrossing to block the black shadow's path. Yet before they could touch the tentacle, it easily evaded them, slipping through the gaps like liquid.

The Soul Threads missed and struck the floor's array patterns. The backlash traveled along the silver strands, numbing Isolde's fingertips.

However, the black shadow did not continue lunging greedily at the Moon-Crown Lock. Instead, it abruptly stopped some distance away, then gathered into a tall human figure like ink spreading through water.

The newcomer wore a set of tightly fitted black night clothes, with half their face covered by a mask etched with strange dark patterns. Only a pair of heterochromatic blue-and-yellow eyes were visible.

When the figure spoke, a low, hoarse voice came through the mask, making it impossible to tell whether they were male or female.

"I thought you were just a minor player."

"I didn't expect following you would get me here so easily. Looks like I made the right bet this time."

Isolde watched it, her back slowly tensing.

This thing had been hiding in her shadow from beginning to end.

Had it started when she entered that snowy forest? Or at the monastery entrance? Or after the chaos in the baptism chamber?

She had been using others all along, yet in the end, she herself had given someone a free ride.

Karma came fast—without even a moment to brace for it.

Despite the shock in her heart, Isolde showed no sign of panic. She merely slowly wound the silver threads tighter around her fingers and said coldly,

"Always hiding in other people's shadows. Aren't you afraid someone will step on you and crush you one day?"

The figure in black let out a low chuckle.

"If others truly had that ability, I wouldn't be standing here talking to you now."

Isolde could not be bothered to waste words with it. With her high intelligence, she swiftly analyzed the situation before her.

The Stillbone Prayer Room was filled with an extremely powerful holy pressure. Such an environment was highly disadvantageous to her as a Castle witch, but it was certainly no friendlier to a Black Tower warlock who practiced dark magic.

She noticed that the edges of the other party's black robe were rippling slightly. That meant it too was enduring the Moon-Crown Lock's rejection and suppression.

At least one thing was certain: this Black Tower warlock only knew that her power was mysterious and had not yet completely seen through her identity as a "witch."

The figure in black tilted its head slightly and glanced at the Moon-Crown Lock in the center, its tone returning to calm.

"The order's supreme sealing array has been laid around the Moon-Crown Lock. Even if you kill me now, there is no way you can take it away by yourself."