The door swung open.
Gray mist silently poured out, spreading in all directions until it reached knee height. It resembled the veils of ghosts or dancers, gradually blurring the seams and contours of the walls and floor. The heap of human-faced spider corpses on the ground transformed into dull patches of color, and the corridors on either side seemed to narrow further. An ominous silence and oppression pressed in from all sides, enveloping the two amid the pile of bodies. The dense fog made everything in the darkness appear to waver.
This mist sent chills through one's entire body.
"What do you make of this?" Jeanne licked her lips, staring intently at the archway shrouded in gray mist before them. Gray-black blood dripped steadily from her sword, splattering onto the ground and staining several pale, bisected human faces.
Cesar absorbed the last wisp of spirit energy, stood up, and shook his head. "Don't ask me; I know nothing. The deeper we go, the more this place deviates from the records."
She glanced at Cesar. "You go in first?"
"You go in first." Like hell—if someone's going to die, it should be you.
"Mr. Cesar," Jeanne smiled, though the expression appeared particularly twisted on her face, "you're my guardian knight. You should understand the duties of a guardian knight, shouldn't you?"
"Don't push your luck," he sneered. "There's nothing between us."
"Get in there!"
Jeanne grabbed the black mage by the collar and single-handedly threw him through the doorway.
The mist-covered entrance swallowed the black mage like the gaping maw of a monster. A faint stench of decay wafted through the corners, stirring the fog and brushing against her face, dampened by the eerie humidity, like a low, silent breath. After a few minutes of continued silence, Jeanne, seemingly impatient, frowned and thrust her sword into the mist. With a whoosh, the air currents began to swirl tightly around the blade, appearing somewhat agitated, as if reacting to even the slightest movement.
"You nearly stabbed me!" As Jeanne tentatively stirred the gray mist with her blade, a hand suddenly reached out and roughly pulled her inside.
The gray mist trembled violently for a moment before quickly settling down, continuing its silent spread, licking at the corpses on the ground.
"Hey, tell me—have you seen this place before?"
Jeanne felt chilled to the bone—the temperature here was like the dead of winter, and her clothes were already tattered.
"You think I'm an encyclopedia?"
Cesar sighed, turned around, and glanced back at what should have been the door leading to the other side—there was nothing there, not even the gray mist. He then surveyed the surroundings but couldn't spot anything resembling an entrance—only three aged, faded brick walls stood mockingly before them, enclosing this narrow, eerie alley. The darkness here was indescribable—and entirely different in style from the damp dungeon. The corners were piled high with layers of household garbage, and the stench of filth and rotting meat was unbearable.
"Could this be the maze of some unknown heretical god? This damned place doesn't resemble the real world at all—and I still can't connect to my Lord's power," Jeanne shivered, barely managing to flex her stiff limbs. "Hey, can your magic conjure up a coat for me?"
"I've never heard of such a spell." Cesar exhaled lightly and, without much hope, suggested, "How about going out to explore? At the very least, we need to ensure our survival. If we die in the maze, our souls won't return to the real world."
"...Then can you perform a fire enchantment?"
"My reserves are limited. Before you freeze to death, I won't waste mana maintaining a fire enchantment."
Cesar's unsympathetic response didn't deter Jeanne. Without hesitation, she rummaged through the garbage heap, extracting a wooden stick. She then kicked aside half of a human corpse swarming with flies; beneath a mass of unknown entrails, she pulled out a greasy, damp rag, wrapping it around the stick to fashion an unlit torch.
The refuse was decayed, foul-smelling, and teeming with maggots writhing in and out—an area most would avoid approaching within a meter.
"I'm curious about the kind of life you've led," Cesar observed Jeanne's actions intently, accepting the makeshift torch from her hands, now tainted with the stench of decay. "In some ways, it's quite impressive."
Jeanne rolled her eyes.
"All right." Cesar conjured a small flame, igniting the crude torch before handing it back to her. "Is there anything else you'd like me to do, Inquisitor?"
"Maintain your concealment spell properly; I don't want those disgusting creatures ambushing me," Jeanne replied, taking the torch. "I've given up hope of escaping here quickly. For now, let's focus on survival and take things one step at a time."
The flickering flame provided slight warmth to her stiff limbs.
"That's it?" Cesar asked.
"That's it," she responded flatly.
"Then you lead the way." He attempted to build on the amicable atmosphere.
"As a superior, I must inform you that it's typically the duty of a guardian knight to lead and face danger first," Jeanne retorted with a cold smile.
"I thought our friendship had reached the point where you'd be willing to take the lead."
"We have no friendship to speak of," she stated plainly.
This woman is truly unyielding, Cesar thought, shrugging before turning to walk down the alley.
Jeanne followed closely behind, thin mist curling around them. He burned the collected souls to maintain the concealment spell. Semi-transparent gray lines formed irregular arcs around him, visible only to his eyes. Each strand emerged from the depths of his soul, extending through his vision into the surrounding air, detecting subtle vibrations and gathering information about their environment.
They found themselves in a desolate city. The sky overhead was a deep gray, as if shrouded by heavy dust, devoid of stars, yet emitting a faint, pale light. Everything appeared softened, as if veiled in mist, resembling oil paintings dissolving in water—houses with indistinct shapes, their walls covered in gelatinous, curling depressions and protrusions; trees grotesque and misshapen, with thick, overgrown branches densely populating the trunks, resembling numerous human limbs nailed to a single stake; the muddy road underfoot felt like a black carpet, soft and unsettlingly squishy.
In the empty, silent streets, reminiscent of gray-filtered, soundless images, a gray, one-legged bird approached. Standing about half a person's height, with a serrated beak—it moved exceedingly slowly, barely shifting its body, a sluggishness that evoked both disgust and dread.
"Do you think that thing is edible?" Jeanne asked, her appetite seemingly outweighing any fear of this bizarre world.
"I'll need to confirm," Cesar replied, licking his lips. "At least it looks edible—and it doesn't have a human face embedded somewhere on its body. As long as it doesn't harbor some strange toxins, we've found our meal for tonight."