The cave entrance was by no means naturally formed; its edges bore traces of magical carving, though they were concealed by the raging demonic energy.
However, under the analysis of the identification technique, its stable spatial structure is as conspicuous as a firefly in the dark.
The opening was only big enough for one person to pass through. Facing the direction of their valley, a continuous stream of mid- to high-level monsters were pouring out of that small opening and joining the torrent of monsters crashing into the valley!
Monica gasped, her wine-red pupils contracting sharply.
She turned her head sharply, her voice filled with unprecedented urgency and horror, piercing through the deafening roars of monsters and the thunder of battle:
"Mark! Enzo! Anna! Look over there at the rift! A stable passage has been forcibly opened in the Demon Realm Rift! These high-level demons... came out of that passage!"
...
The edge of the misty forest, a desolate place.
The surging gray mist flowed like a living thing among the twisted dead trees, shrouding the edge of the misty forest in a gloomy and oppressive atmosphere.
This place is not far from the Demon Realm Rift, which is heavily guarded by the Church of Holy Light, which also means that it is not far from the foundation of the "Earthly Divine Kingdom" that the Church of Holy Light has devoted itself to building.
At this moment, the air here still carried the scorching aura of elements unique to the operation of a large teleportation array, which was completely out of place with the treacherous atmosphere of the forest itself.
Deep within the gray fog, on a temporarily cleared open space, space silently twists and folds.
Several figures emerged as if stepping out of a shattered mirror, descending silently.
Rita's figure solidified first, her bare feet touching the damp, decaying leaves without leaving a trace.
Her eerie red eyes swept across the surroundings, making no attempt to hide her disgust for this filthy environment. With a casual flick of her finger, invisible ripples of time spread out, temporarily separating the swirling gray mist around her and creating a small, relatively clean space.
Immediately afterwards, the heavy sound of horses' hooves accompanied the clicking sound of bones grinding together.
Balg rode his jet-black skeletal warhorse, its hooves ablaze with eerie blue flames, like a moving black iron tower, breaking through the thick fog.
He was still wrapped in that thick black fur coat, but the bulging muscles and old wounds exposed beneath the coat, as well as his eyes that gleamed with a scarlet light in the shadow of the hood, all exuded a chilling sense of decadence and power.
He didn't say anything, but simply reined in the restless skeleton horse, his cold gaze sweeping across the open space.
Finally, a deeper shadow appeared, seemingly capable of absorbing light.
This shadow is not pure darkness, but rather it is constantly twisting and changing shape, vaguely revealing the surging chaotic energy within and the whispers that send chills down your spine.
It has no specific facial features, only two deep purple flames flickering at the core of the shadow, like the pupils of an abyss gazing into the distance.
This is the most mysterious founder of the Enlightenment Society—the Holy Son of the Abyss Church.
His arrival caused the surrounding gray fog to freeze and retreat, bringing a heavy pressure originating from his status.
The space fluctuated again, and the puppeteer's figure, draped in a wide cloak woven from countless fine gray threads, appeared, his pale, stiff chin slightly raised beneath the hood.
Behind him, three puppets identical to him emerged from the shadows like ghosts, their movements stiff yet brimming with killing intent.
Almost simultaneously, the Oracle, shrouded in a deep blue cloak of ice, stepped out from the void on the other side. Beneath his face shrouded in icy mist, two points of eerie blue light shone like frozen stars. His chilling aura caused the moisture in the air to instantly condense into ice crystals, which then quietly dissipated as he passed by.
The fragment of the Star Heart, which seemed to seal the desolate starry sky within, hung at his waist, now appeared to be truly sealed away by him.
Immediately afterwards, eight more figures, each with a different form but equally profound and abyssal aura, appeared one after another at the edge of the open space.
Some of them were shrouded in large robes, their figures indistinct.
Some wore armor covered in strange runes, their eyes like those of hawks.
Some, on the other hand, exude a distorted life force field.
These eight individuals are all core "wise men" of the Enlightenment Society, and without exception, they are all powerful figures who have stepped into the realm of legend!
They silently guarded the three core giants, their powerful auras intertwining and subtly distorting the space of the entire open area.
Raymond Iron Ridge huddled in the shadows at the very edge of the clearing.
He wore simple prison clothes, with charred marks on his wrists and ankles from the removal of the specially made holy light shackles. His eyes were empty and unfocused, and the once iron-blooded commander's demeanor was gone, leaving only the mental trauma and weakness caused by the forced "reading" of his memories.
He was like a forgotten rag doll, imprisoned here by an invisible force, becoming the only "unofficial member" of this gathering of the Rehabilitation Association.
"Heh, people from the church are so boring, always putting on airs." Rita's red lips curled into a mocking smile as her gaze swept over all the "wise men" present, finally settling on the abyss shadow at the core. "Your Holiness, everyone is here. It's time to tell me about your 'grand plan'? The foundation of those hypocrites' 'divine kingdom' of the Holy Light is almost complete."
She emphasized the words "divine kingdom" and glanced at Balger out of the corner of her eye.
The crimson light beneath Barger's hood rippled slightly, and the air seemed to heat up a bit.
The two deep purple flames of the Abyss Saint burned calmly, without uttering a sound, but a cold and vast thought, like the superimposed whispers of countless souls at the bottom of the abyss, resounded directly from the depths of the souls of all the "wise men":
The time is approaching. The 'foundation' of the false god of holy light's earthly kingdom is about to be completed, yet it intends to break free of its shackles and blaspheme the authority of our god. This is a delusion that we must shatter on our path of 'enlightenment'.
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