Glug, glug—

After draining the potion in the bottle, Carlisle felt a surge of energy fill his body.

He carefully slipped the empty glass bottle into his ring, then stretched. As the girl let out a series of pained yelps, he hoisted her onto his shoulder again.

As he continued forward, the miasma in the pit grew thicker, and its sour stench grew stronger. Still, it remained bearable.

Pale-green crystals had gradually spread across the ground, and jagged clusters had even sprouted from the stone walls. Carlisle knew there was some connection between the miasma and the crystals. Perhaps he could solve the mystery by reaching the end of the pit.

Sherry couldn't see what lay ahead in the pit. Carried over the boy's shoulder, all she could see was Carlisle's swaying back. But that suited her just fine. If she accidentally saw something terrifying, she might never be able to get away.

As he stepped onto the crystal-covered ground, his footsteps grew fainter and fainter. Carlisle frowned. The girl on his shoulder suddenly felt a little heavy.

“Have you put on weight?”

“...Brother, maybe you're just out of shape?”

Carlisle didn't reply. He waved away the miasma nearby, a hint of retreat seeming to creep into his grave expression.

His body had grown strangely weak, and everything ahead was unknown. If he kept going, he might run into danger.

Perhaps it would be better to come back and explore after preparing properly.

Though he was thinking of retreating, he peered through the thin mist of miasma and spotted a turn ahead, lit by a faint green glow. Beyond it, something ghostly seemed to shine with a dazzling, mesmerizing light.

He'd take a look at the glowing object around the corner, then head back.

The thought flashed through his mind, and before he knew it, his feet were carrying him toward the turn.

Sherry, perched on his shoulder, felt herself jostled about. After a brief, abrupt turn and stop, Carlisle dumped her on the ground again.

“Ow! Tch! Take it easy, you bastard!”

To her surprise, Carlisle paid no attention to the girl's insults.

His gaze was fixed straight ahead. The faint green light fell across his flesh-colored skin. If they couldn't hear him breathing and see his chest rise and fall, anyone would have mistaken him for a human statue carved from green ore.

A speck of ghastly green light was reflected in his dark pupils. It was as if the vicious demons that roamed at night had possessed him, stealing his soul.

Past the turn, the muddy, murky miasma reeked even more strongly and hung even thicker in the air. Following Carlisle's gaze without thinking, Sherry saw a strange figure standing with its back to them, dressed in a black cloak and wearing a hawk-beaked mask.

And beyond that figure, a horrifying scene came into view.

The space ahead was no longer as cramped as the pit. At the far edge of her vision lay a mass of viscous, repulsive blue-green miasma. Glowing crystals hung one after another from the dark earth overhead, like stalactites. Anyone who saw them might have thought they'd stumbled into some bizarre ritual performed by a heretical cult. Terror crawled over her skin.

Though the miasma made it hard to see anything clearly, a stone door coated in dark teal grime stood out in plain sight. It wasn't set into a wall. Apart from a lone object in front of it that looked like a candlestick, there was nothing around it.

Strange carvings were the stone door's only ornament. Twisted skull-demons had been imprinted on its surface by some uncanny force. Thin wisps of miasma seeped slowly through the cracks, and if you listened closely, you could just make out shrill, eerie cries from behind the door.

Something incomprehensible suddenly seemed to crash into her mind. Sherry felt dizzy, and the pale-green stone door before her slowly became a staircase leading to a bloody hell. The miasma swirling around her turned into the only light illuminating the steps.

“Who are you?!”

Only when Carlisle's shout jolted her out of the illusion did she realize she'd somehow gotten to her feet and started walking toward the stone door.

She shuddered and forced herself to look away from the stone door. Pain from her buttocks left her legs terribly weak.

Only at times like this could Carlisle at her side offer her even a little sense of security.

The strange figure in the hawk-beaked mask glanced back at them. Then it waved a hand, and the crystals overhead shattered. Their fragments gathered on the ground, gradually taking the shape of a strange-looking crystal giant.

Like a crudely made rag doll, the giant's limbs were joined by red, threadlike spells, granting it the ability to move.

Sherry recognized the spell the strange figure was using at a glance.

Red was the signature color of the Gladys Spell. Before the Church introduced the Gerald Spell, it had been the most famous spell in the world.

Like the ring's name, the spell was said to have originated with the ancient god Gladys.

But recognizing it wouldn't do her much good. All the tools the Witch needed to use her powers were on Carlisle. Apart from running for her life, there was nothing she could do.

So I'm heading out first, Carlisle.

She struggled to stand up straight, then limped away along the path behind them.

Facing the crystal giant, Carlisle had no time to worry about Sherry running off. The pressure from the enemy before him left him on edge.

In the past, he could've beaten an enemy like this with ease. But now...

The things before him began inexplicably doubling. His whole body seemed to sag downward. His head throbbed, and feeling gradually faded from his limbs.

“Is this miasma really that toxic?” he muttered.

He had no idea how much of his strength he had left. The miasma seemed to have drained a great deal of his stamina on the way here. If he fought here, he could very well lose his life.

Roar—

The crystal giant roared and suddenly raised a fist toward his head. The hawk-beaked figure vanished from behind it, nowhere to be seen.

A purple spell instantly became a shield in front of Carlisle. The giant's fist crashed into it, and a powerful gust blew away the nearby miasma. The thunderous impact shattered countless pale-green crystals that should have been intact.

But using a spell like that also meant Carlisle could no longer suppress the poison surging through his body. His mind grew hazy, and the spell shield he'd been maintaining vanished as he lost focus. Even the rope binding the girl's hands began to dim.

Sherry noticed. She struggled to break free of the rope while gritting her teeth against the pain, then limped toward the entrance to the sewer well.

As one of the Knights of the Round Table, Carlisle surely had plenty of tricks up his sleeve. Even poisoned, he might still keep the giant from pounding him into a meat patty. But she was another matter. A Witch with her hands bound had no trump cards at all.

Turning into Liya to use a spell would be extremely risky. Carlisle hadn't even lost consciousness yet, and the hawk-beaked figure lurking in the shadows was trouble enough on its own.