Upon arriving at the convent's main hall, over a hundred nuns were seated together in prayer—this was a ritual they performed every single day.
The purple-robed archbishop joined them in prayer as well, while the remaining four stayed seated in the hall.
Lucas had no religious beliefs whatsoever. After observing for a while, he stood up and walked outside.
The demonic miasma was still thick—so dense that even the prayer hall had not been spared. The entire convent felt increasingly oppressive and sinister.
Suddenly, out of the corner of Lucas's eye, he caught a glimpse of a shadow flashing past.
At this hour, every nun should have been praying in the hall.
So who was that?
Driven by curiosity, Lucas immediately headed toward where the figure had vanished.
To his surprise, he discovered a staircase leading underground. He carefully descended the steps and soon arrived at a vast subterranean chamber.
At the very center of the chamber stood a stone chair, and surrounding it were rows of stone coffins.
At a glance, the coffins were unmistakably Western in style—the kind from the Middle Ages, with human figures carved into the lids.
The stone chair itself was empty. Lucas only glanced at it briefly before shifting his attention elsewhere.
But when he looked back again—
There was suddenly someone seated on the stone chair.
The figure sat upright, entirely shrouded in black gauze, their appearance completely obscured.
Lucas was absolutely certain that the chair had been empty just moments ago. Now, a figure had appeared out of nowhere.
He stepped closer to examine it. Judging by the outline, it was likely a woman. She wore a white wedding dress, though it was tattered and decayed. Her entire body was wrapped in black gauze from head to toe, leaving nothing visible.
Lucas was not particularly surprised. In modern times, wedding dresses symbolized beauty and nobility, worn only at weddings.
But in medieval Europe, wedding dresses were often used as burial garments—a custom that still existed in some regions even today.
The woman before him clearly belonged to that tradition. The wedding dress, combined with the black veil and indistinct features, made her presence deeply unsettling.
Lucas raised his hand—
Suddenly, something moved beneath the black gauze.
He leaned in closer, intending to get a clearer look.
The next instant, the gauze lifted without any wind, shooting straight toward him while emitting a shrill, piercing screech.
At that moment, green claws flashed into existence. Just before the gauze could envelop Lucas, it was torn to shreds.
Now, he could finally see the woman's face.
She was undeniably dead—and had been for a very long time. Her body had dried out almost completely, reduced to skin and bone. Yet her eyes were still there, clouded and staring straight at Lucas, as if she might come back to life at any moment.
A normal mummy would never still have eyeballs.
That fact alone made this corpse highly abnormal.
Lucas leaned in curiously, wanting to inspect her further. This place had been a convent for centuries—those buried here should have been nuns, monks, or perhaps soldiers. A woman buried in a wedding dress did not fit any of those categories.
Just then, the corpse moved.
Her withered, rigid hand shot out and grabbed Lucas. She opened her mouth, filled with writhing maggots, and lunged to bite him.
Bang!
A gun was suddenly shoved straight into her mouth.
With a deafening gunshot, her entire head exploded. Her body collapsed instantly, scattering apart like loose bones, leaving behind nothing but the tattered wedding dress.
Crack… crack… crack…
A series of faint, unsettling sounds echoed around Lucas, like whispered murmurs. At the same time, the stone coffins began to tremble.
The gunshot echoed all the way up to the main hall.
Wong reacted first. Lucas was missing—something had clearly gone wrong. Without hesitation, he opened a portal.
The three of them stepped through and arrived in the underground crypt.
Every coffin was shaking violently now, as if the corpses inside were about to burst out at any moment.
Daimon's gaze immediately locked onto the wedding dress scattered across the stone chair. He stepped forward, picked it up, and even leaned in to smell it.
"This is Amon's warning," Daimon said, looking at the others.
Boom!
All the coffins burst open at once. Dozens of corpses sat upright inside them—some wearing medieval armor, others still draped in tattered priestly robes.
Dozens of reanimated corpses filled the crypt with feral roars as they closed in on the four of them.
"This is not a place you should have come to,"
one corpse rasped, its voice like rusted metal scraping together.
"Do not interfere…"
"Who says we're interfering?" Lucas replied casually.
"We were paid for this. Ever heard the saying 'take the money and eliminate the disaster'?"
He paused, then slapped his forehead.
"Oh right—you're dead. Guess you haven't heard it. No matter. It won't stop me from scattering your ashes."
He raised his gun and fired.
A blue bullet streaked through the air. The speaking corpse's head exploded instantly, just like the woman in the wedding dress.
Roar!!
The remaining corpses charged, swinging their weapons at the group.
Boom!
Orange-red flames erupted, instantly engulfing the entire crypt. Countless wailing souls screamed in agony, turning the chamber into something straight out of Hell.
Daimon's eyes burned with fire as hellfire wrapped around his body.
"Hellfire!"
Lucas smelled a strong stench of sulfur. For some reason, hellfire always seemed to carry that odor.
Daimon pointed forward. Fire serpents surged out, wrapping around every corpse.
"Aaaargh!!"
"You… you're his son! You're the son of Satan!!"
Amid the screams, the corpses were reduced to ash.
When the hellfire faded, Daimon staggered, looking extremely weak. He instinctively rubbed the bracelet on his wrist. A black scorch mark had appeared, as if his skin had been burned.
Moments later, the mark faded, and his wrist returned to normal.
"That's the bracelet's side effect," Daimon said, drenched in sweat.
"My power is heavily suppressed, and every time I use it, the bracelet burns me."
After explaining, he collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily.
As the son of a demon, his power came directly from Hell—no different from a demon's. The bracelet, forged by the Church and imbued with divine power, naturally suppressed that energy.
"Are you okay?" Elsa asked, stepping forward. She didn't want to lose a combatant at such a critical moment.
Daimon shook his head. "I'm fine. Just the bracelet. I'll recover soon."
Wong then opened a Mirror Dimension.
"This place isn't that simple," he said grimly. "We just arrived, and Amon already made his move."
"The archbishop said there was a divine relic here—the Rod of God," Wong continued, frowning.
"So how is Amon still able to control these corpses?"
According to the Church, the Rod of God was a sacred artifact with immense suppressive power over demons. Amon should have been severely weakened here.
Yet clearly—
Something was very wrong.
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