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Chapter 15: This… This Can’t Be Right
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In the dim basement.
“Where am I?”
The gray-haired girl groggily opened her eyes, a cold breeze brushing past her ankles and snapping her fully awake.
Mithra remembered now—she should be on the Lord’s Island!
“How dare she?”
Mithra was furious.
She had made it clear enough back then, hadn’t she?
The Lord’s Island was designed for seasoned four-person teams with balanced compositions. Even so, the success rate was notoriously low.
She swore that when she found that person, she’d make her apologize… Mithra grumbled to herself, already brainstorming excuses to convince her father to grant her and her reckless teammate a retake.
Another icy gust swept through, making her shiver involuntarily.
It was then that she finally noticed her surroundings:
A basement, exposed bricks, water stains on the walls resembling eerie grins, shadows swallowing most of the space, and an unsettling chill lingering faintly in the air.
Basement… basement… Mithra forced herself to calm down, her mind racing as she tried to piece together the “story” she found herself in.
The Void Domain was vast and infinite; no one could step foot on the same island twice. But fortunately, this was an artificial Void Domain, where islands were limited and publicly documented.
There were only three or four Lord’s Islands used for the exam. Combined with the distinct, eerie atmosphere, Mithra quickly identified her location—
“The Abbey at Midnight.” She murmured the name aloud. “I remember this island’s prototype being a horror tale, right?”
In the wilderness, a group of travelers arrived at an abandoned abbey. They laughed and joked, while the nuns warmly welcomed them.
They feasted, mocking the forgotten faith without restraint.
When the clock struck midnight, the arrogant travelers realized their “feast” was nothing more than rotting animal carcasses. The gentle nuns transformed into man-eating monsters.
And the travelers never left the church again.
The story was originally meant to teach reverence for faith, but its classic narrative later inspired plays and even influenced the design of this island.
“Fate has a way of twisting things for those people,” Mithra thought wryly, her faint fear dissipating somewhat.
Next, she needed to find Viya and figure out their next move…
BOOM—
A deafening sound erupted from upstairs, interrupting Mithra’s thoughts and causing her expression to harden.
She didn’t know what had happened, but she suspected trouble—likely involving Viya being in danger.
Facing the iron door before her, Mithra pushed hard, but it didn’t budge.
She stepped back several paces, raised her hand slightly, and a pale blue laureate appeared above her head. Magic surged, and a thin layer of ice began to form over the iron door.
With a sharp crack, the entire door shattered into countless icy fragments, scattering across the floor.
THUD THUD THUD—
The noise from above grew louder. Without hesitation, Mithra dashed up the stairs.
When she saw the first floor in its entirety, she froze.
Tongues of flame licked at the decaying wooden floor. Broken chairs and tables lay scattered, and the pillars bore grotesque claw marks alongside precise cuts.
The acrid smell of burning and decay filled every corner.
“…What happened?”
Mithra muttered under her breath.
The flames obscured her view of the entire church, but she could imagine its precarious state, collapsing irreversibly toward destruction.
“AHHH—”
A mournful cry echoed from ahead, sending chills down her spine.
“This is bad!” Mithra’s face tightened. Her worst fear had come true.
Explorers who died in the Void Domain wouldn’t truly perish—they’d return to reality, though their bodies would remain weakened for a long time.
But that didn’t mean they were free of consequences.
Physical wounds could heal, but mental scars were harder to mend.
If the island’s lords happened to enjoy “torture,” figuring out how to die honorably and painlessly became a priority for explorers.
“Defeating the lord isn’t realistic. Maybe I can distract it, then finish off my teammate before ending myself.”
Mithra quickly formulated a plan.
A phantom laureate materialized above her head, different from before—this one was pure silver, adorned with a feathered serpent pattern.
[Active Effect: Instantly kill the target. Success rate depends on the target’s mental resistance, physical condition, and rank.]
[Passive Effect: You’ll sleep better.]
Though seemingly powerful, this laureate was actually quite situational.
Casting it on an infant—even if they had the slightest will to live—would fail. It existed solely for the unique mechanics of the Void Domain.
Taking a deep breath, Mithra ran toward the distorted figure in the firelight, shouting loudly:
“Damn it…”
Her voice cut off abruptly.
Because she recognized the figure in the flames.
It wasn’t some grotesque monster or sinister ghost.
Blonde hair, blue eyes—it was her teammate, Viya Fanyar.
Viya felt the gaze upon her and turned after a few seconds, addressing Mithra:
“What did you say just now?”
“N-Nothing.” Mithra’s mind struggled to catch up. She cautiously scanned her surroundings.
“Where did the lord go?”
“I’ve only seen one living thing.” Viya remained concise, pointing to the unrecognizable banshee corpse on the ground.
Even on the brink of death, the banshee had fought with tenacity, rasping as she attempted to crawl forward.
“Wait a moment.” Viya apologized briefly before stepping over to the banshee and cleanly crushing her skull with a stomp.
Under the banshee’s innate properties, it was like popping a balloon.
The action was terrifyingly practiced, leaving Mithra shaken.
If I’m not mistaken, that was a corrupted banshee… Mithra’s eyelids twitched nervously. She certainly knew about these infamous creatures.
Immune to physical attacks, illusions, and boasting near-nightmarish strength, the banshee was a purely hellish Void Domain lord.
More terrifying was her shriek—without special protection, even brief exposure could incapacitate someone, and prolonged exposure left permanent mental trauma.
Even a well-balanced team of First Ring Ascenders faced high odds of failure without specific preparation.
Mithra suddenly realized something horrifying:
The earlier scream had sounded strange—it might not have been Viya’s at all, but the banshee’s.
So… this person… soloed it?
This can’t be right…?
As Mithra questioned her sanity, faint silver motes rose from the banshee’s remains. They gathered together, gradually forming a shape, and finally coalesced into a laureate.
The laureate floated silently before Viya.
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