The explosive force sent Charles, Hattie, Ruth, and all remaining cultist guards flying backward like ragdolls!
"Cough...! Damn it...!"
Charles hit the ground hard, rolling several times before stopping. He didn’t know what level Thunderwave that was, but it had shattered both his Armor of Agathys and False Life protections—even the purified life energy was nearly depleted.
As for Sophia’s eight cultist guards? Pulverized instantly.
Sophia... still terrifyingly powerful...
Damn this inefficient purification system!
At this rate, purifying Theresa will take forever!
Charles cursed inwardly, but now wasn’t the time to blame the system. Scrambling to his feet, he saw Sophia’s massive form retreating into her lair, only the lingering black mist marking her escape route.
"Andny! Tell Sephera to flood the Timber Yard with toxins—no humans get through!" he commanded. "Hattie, Ruth—with me! We’re going in!"
Recasting two 2nd-level protective spells (his remaining spell slots dropping instantly to eleven), he charged into the Timber Yard without hesitation.
Inside the Timber Yard
Anno and the six remaining investigators still lay bound in the corner. Shame over her arrogance and recklessness warred with renewed hope as explosions and battle cries echoed outside.
Whoever’s fighting these cultists... please hurry...
Free us... Let me wield my sword for justice once more!
Her delicate brows furrowed violently.
A team member held his breath and asked, "What the hell is this smell?"
"Are they roasting durians out there? Or boiling fermented herring?!"
"My eyes! It burns! What kind of witchcraft is this?!"
"Poison gas!" Another investigator jerked as yellow-green fumes poured in. "Don’t breathe! Ugh—!"
Anno gritted her teeth. "Hold fast, comrades! If we succumb—"
But her own face contorted unbearably.
"I can’t—!" One investigator finally broke, gulping air—
The magical toxic mist flooded his nostrils, attacking his nerves like acid.
"Hnnngh... HRRAAAGH—!!!"
His tortured howl echoed through the stinking cloud.
High above the Timber Yard, a lean figure cloaked in a black trench coat observed the battlefield below - none other than that infuriating cambion agent, Regolas.
When he witnessed Charles firing two Eldritch Blasts yet only casting 1st-level spells, his eyes narrowed sharply. Producing a forked branch, he let it float before him while weaving complex hand signs and muttering obscure incantations.
After ten minutes of this ritual, he finally completed the foresight spell, his mind attaining perfect clarity to perceive the hidden truths.
At last, he nodded slowly.
Just as suspected - this mysterious, overly knowledgeable human had stolen the Illusionist’s Bracers!
His caution had been warranted. And so...
"Mr. Kendrz," he activated a Sending Stone and spoke into it, "it’s time for you to move."
"Tonight’s target is a human male mage - approximately 1.7 meters tall, slender build, white hair."
"He’s currently charging into the Timber Yard. I want you to spare no effort in ensuring his death!"
"Smell? Do you want fresh air or do you want to keep breathing?!"
"Unless you want your soul compromised, get moving NOW!"
After this furious tirade, Regolas deactivated the stone and took a deep breath to calm his rage.
Then his face contorted.
"Damn it, Stinking Cloud!" he spat. "Who the hell casts that? Disgusting - hurts everyone including themselves!"
Cursing, he quickly ascended higher and wrapped his trench coat around his nose and mouth, barely tolerating the stench as he continued monitoring the battlefield below.
Sophia’s pedipalps shuffled laboriously as she moved. Her massive form—optimized for storing vast Knowledge—had sacrificed mobility. Relying solely on her true body’s pedipalps, her speed was pitifully slow; even a child learning to run could outpace her!
But this was unavoidable. Sophia’s strength had never been movement, but the depth of her Knowledge and reserves of magic power.
Under normal circumstances, with near-limitless spells and overwhelming spellcasting abilities, she could have annihilated every enemy here without taking a single step.
But now? She was compromised.
Sharing too much magic power with her believers was one factor—but the critical issue was the recent devastating blow she’d taken.
That milky light... it ravaged both my true body and consciousness...
I must replenish myself... quickly...
With this thought, she slowly wriggled back into the Timber Yard. Inside, several cultists were still at work, having just completed two new statues. Seeing her, their faces lit with fanatical devotion:
"Activate them!" Sophia ordered.
The cultists rushed to obey, chanting the incantations she’d taught them. The two statues pulsed with blue magical light, channeling swirling, chaotic energy into her body.
A satisfied groan escaped her mouthparts—
Then the cultists gagged. "W-what’s that stench—? UGH—!"
Their faces twisted in disgust. Sophia turned toward the Timber Yard’s entrance.
Just as expected: three figures strode in, their hostility palpable.
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