My Abyss Survival Diary

Chapter 116 The Game Changer Descends from the Sky (Part 1)

Simon told the tribesmen of the foreign tribe about Chalasu.

"Elder Chalasu released his psionic energy during the battle, and then his consciousness was devoured by that power. He is still alive and wandering somewhere on the second level, but you can't find him. Even if you do find him, he will not become the elder you know."

The tribespeople's reaction was not as intense as Simon had imagined.

No one cried out, no one questioned, and no one fell to the ground and pounded on the ground.

The oldest member of the alien race slowly squatted down, leaning against the stone pillar, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders were trembling, but he made no sound. The other young members of the tribe stood still, staring blankly at the ground, as if their spines had been removed.

Lin Ying stood at the very front of everyone. He turned around and faced the tribesmen who were looking at him. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but he couldn't utter a single word. The sand badger stood behind him, reaching out and grabbing his sleeve tightly, his knuckles turning white.

Despair, like an invisible layer of dust, settles on everyone's head.

Simon waited a few seconds, then drew everyone's attention back to the scene before him. He didn't raise his voice, but his words echoed between the stone walls, making them clear to everyone.

"Above us are the cannons of a fortress, below us is a blocked passage; we are trapped."

He left his words there, letting silence do the rest of the work for him; no one objected, and no one asked questions.

Everyone knows he's telling the truth; it's a dead end.

A hopeless dead end.

The Devil's Lips Outpost, the underground interrogation room.

Andrei sat on the iron chair, his hands not handcuffed. He placed them flat on his knees, fingers spread, and remained motionless.

Before he was brought into the room, the mechanic at the outpost turned off the power valve on his prosthetic leg, a standard procedure for interrogating criminals.

Sitting opposite him was the old priest, who was not wearing his faded white robe today, but instead a dark gray monk's casual robe, with the collar buttoned up meticulously.

"You once used the pretext of capturing the Imperial wanted criminal Elphis to transfer five impure healers and four Holy Hammer nuns. In your report, you wrote: 'We happened to encounter a battle between the Cave Thieves and the Hungry Angels, and you led your armored warriors to fight alongside them.'"

Did you collaborate with tunnel raiders and criminals during this process?

"Yes," Andrei answered crisply.

"Do you consider that sinner named Simon your friend?" The old priest's face was grim.

"Yes," Andrei replied.

The old priest sighed and placed a metal can on the table. The can was of standard Imperial military quality and had been removed from Andrei's prosthetic leg.

"This is the fuel tank from your prosthetic leg." The old priest's voice was hoarse, dry, and flat. "The mechanic removed it after he was injured and unconscious. Not a single drop of fuel was missing."

Andrei did not speak.

"Your report said: 'Encountered fierce resistance, prosthetic fuel exhausted, capture failed.' The old priest shoved the fuel canister forward half an inch, the metal scraping against the iron table with a harsh screech. 'But your fuel canister was full! You didn't use your full strength in the fight; you were holding back!'"

"You were fighting that sinner in the burning fire. You only needed to spray the flames from your prosthetic arm, and if even a tiny bit of fuel stuck to him, he would have instantly turned to charcoal. But you didn't do that, did you?"

The interrogation room was quiet for a long time. The gas lamp on the ceiling hissed and cast a dim yellow circle on the iron table.

"Yes," Andrei said.

When he uttered the word, his shoulders slumped slightly, as if a heavy burden he had been carrying for a long time had been lifted.

"Simon von Alter shouldn't have been sent to this abyss." Andrei looked up, meeting the old priest's eyes. "He's not a sinner; he's a scholar, wrongly accused for his duty. Throwing such a person into the abyss doesn't suit my opinion."

The ideal of justice.

The old priest remained silent for a long time. His cloudy eyes, under the gas lamp, were almost devoid of any luster, like two old glass beads whose enamel had been worn away.

He stared at Andrei, every muscle in his face trembling with rage.

"You shouldn't have justice in your heart!" he roared, slamming his fist on the table. "You should only have the empire in your heart!"

Andrei did not avoid his gaze. He sat there with his hands still flat on his knees, and the heat dissipation vents on his metal right arm were still cold.

His expression showed no anger or resentment, only an awkward, stubborn determination.

The old priest suddenly coughed violently. He bent over, supporting himself on the table with one hand and covering his mouth with the other.

The coughing echoed back and forth in the cramped space of the interrogation room, each sound seeming to be torn out from the depths of the lungs.

Andrei instinctively stood up and reached out to help him.

The old priest raised his withered hand to stop him. He didn't look up, but just bent over, waiting for his cough to subside.

It took a long time before his breathing became steady again.

He pulled a gray handkerchief from his sleeve, wiped his mouth, then slowly straightened up and tucked the handkerchief back into his sleeve.

in.

He didn't let Andrei see what was on the handkerchief, but Andrei did see the trace of dark red left at the corner of his mouth.

The old priest sat up straight again, placing his hands folded on the table, resuming his rigid, statue-like posture.

"Andrei—" he said, his voice even hoarser than before, but his tone was very firm, "I have dedicated my life to my loyalty. From the day I was ordained a priest, everything I own no longer belongs to myself."

"My hands are stained with the blood of the innocent, my lips have uttered prayers that I myself do not believe, my son lies in an underground chamber, breathing through tubes, I transformed him into a weapon, and in the end he perished together with a monster."

"I never asked whether it was worth it," nor did I ever ask whether it was right or wrong, because I am the priest of the empire, and my heart belongs only to the empire!"

He stopped, took a breath, and the gas lamp cast two dark shadows in his sunken eye sockets.

"I am willing to give my life for my loyalty—are you willing to give your life for the justice you cherish?"

"I do!" Andrei answered without hesitation.

The old priest looked at him for a long time, his face no longer showing anger, only helplessness.

"good!"

He removed his hands from the table and placed them on his knees.

"Andrei, you are banished! From this day forward, I strip you of all your rights. You are no longer the priest of the Empire, and your pleas for help will receive no response. You will be escorted outside the outpost and thrown into the abyss, where you will be no different from those sinners whose lives are as worthless as grass!"

His frail body coughed incessantly once more, and the old priest staggered as he turned and left.

"Go into the abyss and uphold your justice."