Chapter 1551 - 978: Demon Hunter Walking in the Abyss (2)

Chapter 1551: Chapter 978: Demon Hunter Walking in the Abyss (2)

Though it hasn’t completely disappeared.

The nauseating temptation and whispers still stubbornly cling to the edges of consciousness like maggots on a bone.

But the intensity has decreased from a nearly overwhelming level to what they used to feel in the Main World when facing powerful enemies or at a poor Status—an annoying "noise" that can be suppressed by willpower and the gift of Datafication.

"Hoo... Ha..."

Nightingale took a deep breath, as if a drowning person had surfaced, sweat soaking her temple.

Rock’s tense muscles relaxed, shaking his head. Nap breathed a long sigh, refocusing his gaze, but the panic hadn’t completely faded.

Sharp Claw spat fiercely, feeling the pull that almost tore him apart finally weakened.

"Damn... this haunted place..." Sharp Claw cursed again, but this time his tone carried a hint of post-survival anxiety and fear.

"This Peaceful Heart Stone Ring... almost couldn’t hold up! No wonder... no wonder it requires shifts..."

He looked at Captain Shadow Trace, whose spectral green eyes had also regained a hint of clarity, but the depth of gravity in them hadn’t diminished in the slightest.

Until then, they noticed some figures quietly standing not far away.

A Holy Light Priest dressed in Night Watcher Priest robes, holding a prayer book radiating a gentle Holy Light, looked at them with concern.

Beside him stood an Alchemist dressed in an alchemist uniform, holding a recording board and a glowing runic pen, having evidently been observing and recording their reactions just moments ago.

"How do you feel?"

The Holy Light Priest spoke gently, his voice carrying a unique soothing power, incongruous with the surrounding murky air.

"The first time facing the ’call’ of the Abyss core area on the bloodline, the Impact is always the greatest.

"The ’Order barrier’ of the fortress and your ’Peaceful Heart Stone’ worked together; it seems the Effect is good, already suppressing the erosion to a bearable range."

The Alchemist quickly swiped on the recording board, supplementing without lifting his head.

"Reaction intensity at expected upper limits, bloodline resonance coefficient is high, Peaceful Heart Stone load peak recorded. The data is valuable, thank you for cooperating."

His tone carried the pure calmness of a researcher.

"It’s okay, won’t die."

Sharp Claw grumbled with irritation but didn’t refute the Priest’s words.

"Please follow me," the Holy Light Priest nodded at them, saying no more, then turned to lead the way, "I’ll take you to the Night Watcher residential area to settle."

The group finally left the core area of the Teleportation Plaza, beginning to truly enter the steel fortress towering over the tainted land of the Abyss.

Sharp Claw and the others tried to adjust their breathing, adapting to the omnipresent sulfuric stench and heavy pressure while curiously observing this world entirely different from Ring Tower City.

What first impacted their senses were the "people" walking inside the fortress.

They had seen the grace of Elves, the sturdiness of Dwarves, the diversity of Humans, but here, the richness and...strangeness of Races far surpassed their imagination!

A Minotaur Warrior nearly three meters tall, muscle-bound like rocks, carried a massive stone pillar, engraved with primitive totems, thicker than his waist.

Each step let the ground produce a dull echo, the strong smell of sweat and wild aura coming right at them as they passed.

Not far off, a humanoid creature had a bald head, yet it was adorned with six curved, sharp long horns like polished Obsidian.

Even more chilling was his face—not two eyes, but, like a spider, six compound eyes arranged, glowing with a cold red light.

As that gaze swept over, Sharp Claw felt goosebumps rise on his skin.

Further away, a peculiar Race with a snake tail covered in dark green scales for a lower body and six muscular arms for the upper body.

Two of those arms were holding a large piece of charred meat, emitting a beastly scent, munching away.

The other arms deftly manipulated a few odd-shaped Weapons.

Some tall and slender humanoid creatures, skin like bark, spikes growing at the joint areas, walked by silently.

Of course, there were familiar Elves, though their gaze was sharper and more ferocious by a hundredfold than Main World’s Elves.

Dwarves, with Armor styles vastly different, covered in solidified dark blood stains, and Races seemingly close to Humans but with skin, eye color, or distinct non-human traits on their bodies.

No matter the Race, they all exuded a very similar aura.

A scent of slaughter so intense it could almost become tangible, like Battle Armor soaked through with blood.

Iron-blooded, tenacious, as if crawling out from mounds of bodies and seas of blood, cold will.

Their equipment all bore marks of battle without exception—deep claw marks, burnt black char, chipped Weapon edges...

Every figure resembled a bloodthirsty blade, struck out, emitting a dangerous "Stay away" signal.

Sharp Claw had no doubt, anyone here that looked like a mere underling could be a battle-hardened elite veteran in the Main World.

"Abyss Forge..." Rock muttered one sentence in a low voice, a touch of reverence in his tone.

A forge, a term many use to refer to the Abyss, especially the Blood Battle Battlefield, it acts like a forge, tempering a person.

Merging Death with everything.

Nightingale instinctively tightened her grasp around the "Silent Messenger" at her waist.

The space inside the fortress was far larger than they expected, like a fully functional, three-dimensional steel fortress.

Their previous location was the Teleportation and Command hub of the Core Area.

Walking outward, passing an area housing various administrative institutions.

Night Watcher departmental markers were clearly visible, logistics, equipment, intelligence, medical...

But most notable was the largest, busiest one filled with people—[Night Watcher Commerce Association (Abyss Branch)].

A long queue lined the entrance, warrior of various Races coming and going, transporting crates of supplies, appearing exceptionally bustling.

"Commerce Association?" Sharp Claw was somewhat surprised, "Business is so good in this cursed place?"

"Didn’t you hear what that person said before?"

"I was too nervous, you understand."

"Abyss specialties, strategic materials, interplanar trade...this is a crucial node connecting Blood War Fortress and our world, plenty of work for the Commerce Association."

The leading Priest explained faintly.

Venturing further out, the scene left them dumbfounded.

On either side of a broad but messy main thoroughfare, crammed with various types of shops.

It formed a massive, vibrant...or should say, boisterously chaotic marketplace.

Completely different from Ring Tower City’s clean, orderly commercial district.

Most shops had small facades, with many opting to set up rudimentary stalls by the roadside, and the goods stacked could only be described as "piled high."

Glowing ores, bloody or sulfur-scented beast hides, unidentified twisted plant roots, fragments of Weapons and Armor still emitting a dangerous aura...

Various odd-shaped, vividly colored materials and goods piled haphazardly on the stalls, even spilling onto the road, awaiting customers to rummage through.

Clamorous shouts, bargaining disputes of mixed languages.

Heavy footsteps, the drone of Mechanical Body transport...all merging into a loud cacophony.

The air thick with mixed odors—stale sweat, poor-quality grease, scorched meat, metallic corrosion, pungent herb aroma, and an undeniable nausea-inducing vile scent belonging to various Demons and Abyss creatures.

These smells were all too familiar to them.

"This... this..."

Nightingale stared, awestruck at a stall housing large shells still sticky with dark purple blood and scraps of meat tossed about, along with bundles of ominously cold black feathers.

Sharp Claw’s professional instinct immediately kicked in.

His nose twitched, eyes turned sharp as blades.

His body instinctively tensed, fingers even slightly curled, as if ready at any moment to pounce for "evidence collection" and "purification."