Twisted and grotesque, the monster surged forward once more, carried on a foul, cold wind after only a brief moment of regrouping. Moen had no time to linger or observe further.

More limbs erupted from the quivering mass of fleshy fat and blood, wildly flailing about. The newly formed appendages were grotesque, still dripping with pale fat and red, sinewy membranes as they lashed out chaotically.

Its pallid face, locked in a grotesque expression of satisfaction, moved its cracked lips in a mumbled murmur. The creature’s eyes brimmed with an unsettling mix of rage and joy, emitting an aura of peculiar ferocity.

Instinctively, Moen tried to take a deep breath. But the overwhelming stench of rot and decay searing at his senses immediately forced him to abandon the thought.

Better end this quickly.

Moen’s gaze grew colder, sharper.

Asking Lea to hide behind him for the time being, Moen took a step forward to meet the charging monstrosity head-on.

But he didn’t swing his blade.

Instead, his hand extended outward. Long, slender fingers opened and folded tightly inwards, motion curling unnaturally, forming a shape akin to… the claws of a beast.

It had been a while since he’d last used this technique—**Thunder 1.0**.

A deafening roar of thunder cracked through the air!

A violent shockwave practically twisted the atmosphere itself, colliding head-on with the massive charging meatball that resembled a runaway war chariot!

**Thwump.**

The sound was disturbingly grotesque, like a tautly filled object being forcefully struck. The dozen or so massive limbs outstretched from the creature’s front were forcefully shoved back into its grotesque, bloated form. The fatty flesh rippled deeply under the impact, concaving inward, and the red, membranous skin folded layer upon layer like ocean waves under pressure.

Moen’s brow furrowed slightly. Brute force confrontation wasn’t exactly his forte, and the monster’s sheer overwhelming assault sent ripples of agitation through his blood and energy.

But his brow quickly smoothed.

He felt the warmth of two small, soft hands resolutely pressing against his back.

A gentle smile crept onto Moen’s lips. Without hesitation, he drew his blade—his offhand now poised for a decisive strike.

A brilliant arc of light flashed through the night sky, sharp and decisive, cutting downward from above. Yet the blade didn’t strike directly at the monster’s grotesque frontal bulk. Instead, Moen angled it to its side, creating a smooth and precise puncture at an oblique position.

**Splurch.**

Under the immense internal pressure of its grotesque bulk, the puncture violently expelled a fountain of fat and blood.

The spray was downright spectacular, like a macabre, gory geyser.

However, as the expelled torrents of flesh and blood hung suspended mid-air, they seemed to be summoned by some unseen force. Veering unnaturally against common sense, they started coiling back toward the massive entity’s main body.

Moen wouldn’t allow that.

“Lea,” he called softly.

Even before his voice faded—or perhaps even before he spoke—the radiant holy light surged forth.

A barrier of holy light materialized, flawlessly intercepting the grotesque mass’s desperate retreat.

**Sizzle.**

A searing sound pierced the air.

Separated from its host, the flesh burned far quicker when touched by the holy light. The stinging acrid scent of scorched decay momentarily overpowered even the cloying stench of rot.

**ROOOAR!**

The monster, now rapidly losing its supporting mass, ceased its eerie mumbling and erupted in a fit of maniacal howls.

Its ghastly, pale face still bore that horrifying smile of grim satisfaction, but its contortions grew more severe. Something inside seemed... ready to rupture.

**Schk.**

A pure white blade pierced straight into the center of the creature’s twisted face.

The contorted features froze in a moment of stunned stillness—but only for an instant. The agony soon morphed into a frenzied, bloodthirsty snarl. Newly-formed limbs flailed toward Moen with reckless abandon—

**Schk.**

A second blade followed swiftly.

Moen stared unflinchingly into the creature’s twisted visage, silently regarding it with an expression of blatant disdain.

**What are you screaming for?**

**Calling yourself a "Dark God’s corruption"? That’s it? Just this?**

**What a disgrace. Truly pitiful.**

The white blade in his hand suddenly flared with ornate golden patterns, illuminating the weapon’s surface.

Holy light, even purer and more dazzling than Lea’s healing light, poured into the blade, radiating outward in waves of relentless purification.

“AAAAARGH!”

The monster’s bitter howls quickly turned into shrill wails of torment. Every inch of its grotesque body wriggled and convulsed as if being torn apart internally.

The abominable limbs clawed desperately at Moen, then suddenly retracted—vanishing back into the disintegrating mass of its main body, as though it were scrapping its own remaining pieces for survival—like a sinking ship breaking itself apart to fuel a final desperate stretch.

“Moen.”

Lea’s voice pulled his attention.

Not far away, the fleshy remnants that had been ramming against the holy light barriers twitched erratically. New, tiny limbs sprouted beneath membranous surface layers, and the fleshy chunks skittered frantically as if attempting to flee.

But they didn’t get far.

The bits of errant flesh began visibly rotting, decaying swiftly until they completely lost any semblance of life.

**Did it just collapse on its own?**

Moen didn’t dwell on it.

Deciding it was time to end things, his keen gaze sharpened. With a sudden pivot, he turned and lunged—firmly gripping his blade for another strike.

This time, the blade tore through the creature’s thick skin effortlessly. Yet… no revolting torrent of fats and fluids spilled forth.

From the gaping wound, dense clusters of flesh-like nodules wriggled in strange patterns, knitting together to heal the monstrous skin. But just as they had connected enough tissue to seal off the gash, the entire mass abruptly froze.

“I… hunger…”

Tears of blood seeped from the creature’s hollow eyes as its grotesque body crumpled pathetically to the ground.

Only a sagging, crumpled layer of wrinkled skin remained.

…

“Is… is it over?”

Barely peeking out from behind Moen, Lea stepped cautiously forward, her expression mixed with relief and apprehension.

Even though she had tried to brace herself, the sight of the grotesque, deflated skin made her involuntarily flinch.

And as she thumped her chest to calm her nerves, the motion inadvertently caused Moen—having just steadied himself—to feel his heartbeat pitch an unplanned quiver.

“It should be fine now.”

Striving to appear composed, Moen offered her a calming smile.

“Without even a source of corruption. It was just a standard creature, corrupted and polluted. Nothing too major.”

“Really? In that case, I…”

Lea exhaled, preparing to release the tension in full, before suddenly freezing mid-motion.

Her expression grew alert. Tilting her head slightly as though listening, her brows creased.

“What’s wrong?”

“Shh. Listen.”

“…Listen?”

Moen hesitated, then pricked up an ear.

“I don’t hear anything.”

Aside from the wind… and distant echoes of ongoing battles far away. None of those would have triggered Lea’s intense reaction.

“A cry. Can’t you hear it?”

Lea’s tone was urgent as her gaze scanned their surroundings.

Before Moen could reply, he saw her movements come to a sudden halt. Her eyes locked onto something in the distance.

Moen’s body instinctively tensed as he followed her line of sight.

And then he heard it.

The crying.

A pained, mournful wail—raw and soul-deep, the kind that made one’s very essence recoil.

Every hair on Moen’s body stood on end. Clutching his blade tightly, he turned alongside Lea to look at the source.

Not far from them.

Right beside the heap of what the monster had moments ago left behind.

A shadowy, indistinct figure knelt hunched over, clawing and gnawing at the ground.

As if aware of being watched, the figure suddenly lifted its head, gazing at the pair with blank, perplexed eyes.

It was the same face.

The same pale, vacant face as the now-dead monster.

“Still alive?”

Chills swept across Moen’s scalp as he instinctively swung his blade mid-approach—

“Wait! Wait!” Lea quickly intercepted, halting him.

She turned back toward the figure, her voice shaken but considerate.

“I don’t think… it’s a monster anymore.”

“What?”

Instead of explaining further, Lea stepped closer to the shadow.

Moen’s brows furrowed, but he refrained from stopping her. Still, his stance stiffened, readying himself to intervene instantly if needed.

He trusted her.

…

Standing before the shadow, Lea slowly lowered herself into a crouch.

The shadowy figure was small. Much smaller than she had anticipated upon approach—barely tall enough to reach her waist, and kneeling so low that it didn’t quite reach her knees.

It didn’t flee, nor did it lash out. It simply tilted its head wearily, watching Lea’s approach with hollow bewilderment.

The face was unmistakable—identical to the monster earlier. Yet, the gleeful and satisfied expression was gone.

All that remained was agony and grief.

Overwhelming suffering so profound it nearly crushed the air around it.

Drawing closer, Lea could almost feel the weight of its torment pressing against her own chest—a hand squeezing her heart, forcibly wrapping her in the same despair.

“You…”

Lea’s eyes softened with visible sympathy. In a tone as warm and tender as her expression, she asked,

“What happened to you… and to this land? Could you tell me?”

“…”

Staring blankly at her, the figure opened its mouth. Crimson tears rolled down its pale cheeks.

“Help me…”

The voice that escaped its throat was hoarse and hauntingly broken.

It sounded oddly… familiar. As though she had once heard it before.

“Help me… please… help me.”

The shadow muttered its fragile plea repeatedly, motionless, without even reaching upward for aid.

“…”

Lea bit her lip. She quickly shook her head and uttered regretfully:

“I’m sorry… I can’t save you.”

“Because…”

“You’re already dead.”

The moonlight, chill and silver, poured down as though made of mist—passing straight through the figure, unable to cast even the faintest shadow.

Yes, it was already dead.

What stood—or kneeled—before Lea now was nothing but a lingering soul.

A broken, fragmented one.

And yet, somehow, despite the complete loss of its physical body, this lost soul still wandered in torment here.

“I can’t save you. But…”

Holding out her palms, Lea cupped a sphere of concentrated sanctified light—pure and refined.

She pressed her hands together, bowing her head deeply in solemn prayer:

“Merciful goddess, forgive his wrongdoings, and grant him… peace.”

**Holy Rite of Purification.**

Countless particles of shimmering light rippled outward from Lea, scattering like gentle fireflies across the shadowy soul.

The soul quivered and stilled, its murmurs ceasing. Its suffering seemed to retreat like a tide ebbing away.

The tears it shed shimmered into clarity, becoming crystalline droplets.

“Thank you…”

When Lea opened her eyes, only faint outlines of the soul’s presence remained—gradually dissipating amidst the sanctified glow.

Its final expression was delicate—a trembling smile through its tears.

“Rest in peace.”

Lea murmured her benediction one last time.

…

“Was that purification?”

“In a sense. More advanced than ordinary purification rituals, though.”

Lea stood, brushing wind-tossed strands of hair back behind her ear. Quietly, she explained:

“A purification rite strictly for souls. It works especially effectively against lingering spirits.”

“What happens to the purified souls? Do they reincarnate?”

Moen asked out of curiosity.

“I don’t know.” Lea shook her head thoughtfully.

“Reincarnation isn’t something that can be proven. Even the doctrines of the Life Church don’t say anything definitive about it.”

Right in front of you is someone who has been reincarnated, and from another world, no less.

No, wait, wouldn’t it be more accurate to call this a transmigration?

Moen tugged at the corner of his mouth and continued,

“So, the Church set the location for the Saint Baptism Ceremony here just to have you saintess candidates help purify those monsters?”

The Church couldn’t be unaware of these monsters, and since Moen had personally killed a monster corrupted by the dark god for the first time—foretelling that there would definitely be follow-up events—this conclusion seemed the only plausible explanation.

“I’m not sure...”

Lea had just been about to shake her head when she froze suddenly. Raising her hand, the crystal representing her identity as a saintess candidate appeared in her palm.

The originally clear and translucent crystal now had a faint, hair-thin strand of light drifting and swaying within it, rendering it exceptionally beautiful.

It seemed that with continuous accumulation, the faint light would eventually fill the entire crystal.

Lea glanced at the spot where the soul had vanished, then at the crystal, and finally looked into Moen’s eyes.

“Well... it really does seem that way.”

“...Damn it.”

Moen held back for a moment but couldn’t resist cursing.

“The church has this much nerve? This is dark god corruption we’re talking about, and they’re actually using it as a trial? What if they mess up?”

Though Moen hadn’t yet discovered the medium or source of the corruption, anything tied to the words "dark god" inherently represented extreme danger and unpredictability.

This wasn’t just breeding parasites; it was practically like herding a group of helpless little chicks into Jurassic Park and having them sing, dance, and play basketball while parading under the noses of various prehistoric monsters.

“The church issued spatial magic scrolls that can be used to escape at critical moments. It shouldn’t be as dangerous as you think, Moen,” Lea said with a blink of her eyes.

As a saintess candidate, Lea was instinctively with the church, believing it wouldn’t intentionally send them to their deaths and that there must be a reason behind their decision.

Of course, Moen’s argument also made a lot of sense!

“That’s the only way to look at it,” Moen said, glancing up momentarily at the moon before letting out a sigh.

“I’ve had quite a few encounters with the dark god’s influence. Honestly, that monster just now was far weaker than I’d imagined. Despite looking terrifying, it was no more than a lump of regenerating meat in my eyes...”

It had only taken a few slashes to kill it—ridiculously weak. Just look at its resilient predecessors, legends whose heads could be severed without uttering even a grunt as they continued to banter with you.

“Thinking about it that way, perhaps the church has everything under control. The major threats here have likely been cleared out long ago, leaving only remnants sufficient for us to use as trials,” Moen mused, rubbing his chin.

Still, such a theory conflicted sharply with information suggesting the church had only recently reopened this relic’s entrance.

For now, however, this was the best guess they could make. Step by step, they’d have to see how things unfolded. Moen didn’t believe the church would be crazy enough to send the most cherished talents from all major factions into a death trap.

“Yes, that must be it!” Lea nodded vigorously, unwilling to entertain suspicions that the church harbored ill intent.

Rising to approach Moen, she had just taken a few steps when she suddenly stumbled, nearly falling.

“What’s wrong? Legs gone numb from squatting?” Moen teased with a grin.

“No, it’s not that,” Lea replied, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“It’s just that the ground is a bit soft. I almost lost my footing.”

“Be careful,” Moen said, stepping forward to steady her.

But after taking just a couple of steps, he also stopped in his tracks, his gaze lowering with a faintly perplexed expression crossing his face.

“Lea.”

“Hm?”

“Have you noticed something?”

“Notice what?”

“The smell around here... it’s still this bad.”

Lea froze for a moment before hastily covering her nose.

Now that Moen mentioned it, she realized she hadn’t noticed. Even though the monster was dead, the stench of rotting flesh hanging in the air hadn’t weakened in the slightest.

What was more disturbing was that this stench didn’t seem to originate from any single direction. It felt like it came from all around them, carried by the night breeze, enveloping everything.

Silently, Lea summoned holy light to purify the filth and odor. Then, she exchanged a glance with Moen, whose expression had gradually grown grim as the light of purification washed over him.

In Moen’s hands, light began to gather.

“I’m going to take a look now,” Moen said.

“Alright,” Lea replied. “Go ahead.”

With that, Moen raised his hand. Unlike the calm moonlight or the gentle glow of holy light, this was a pure, intense beam of light, illuminating everything around them.

The ground beneath them was sandy soil, soft and soaked with a viscous black liquid that resembled blood.

The walls of nearby houses were covered with plants that had bloomed vibrantly during the day but were now shriveled and blackened, similarly oozing black fluid.

The flowers by the roadside had long since withered. The bizarre fruits borne by some plants had fallen to the ground, half solid and half in some semi-liquid state, revealing exposed white bones.

Farther in the distance lay the river of milk snaking through the town.

It was still milk—

But now it had turned a pale yellow hue, churning with what seemed like countless writhing maggots.

“Shit,” Moen muttered, his face darkening.

Lea crouched down, covering her mouth tightly to prevent herself from losing her composure.

It was true: the church had undoubtedly concealed much from them.

But on one point, they hadn’t been lying.

This ancient relic, dubbed *The Lost Land*, was already teetering on the verge of collapse.

Because this was a kingdom...

A kingdom that was slowly, but inexorably, rotting away.