Yarra’s Adventure Notes
Chapter 1171 - 283: The Path in the Darkness

Chapter 1171: Chapter 283: The Path in the Darkness

Pannis slowly closed the door with a backward motion, plunging the surroundings into utter darkness, everything around him disappeared from sight in an instant, just like the smile on Pannis’s face. Enveloped by darkness with his back against the closed door, his expressionless face unseen, his icy gaze hidden, only his breathing could be heard in the absolute darkness, inhaling and exhaling, becoming more relaxed, more drawn out.

"Step, step, step," finally, footsteps echoed in the darkness. Pannis walked step by step, neither hurried nor slow, not light not heavy, with no urgency and no halt. From the sound of his footsteps, there was no sign of panic—like his teammates weren’t being besieged by several times the number of Legendary Rank Skeletons and more than ten times the number of Gold and Silver Rank Undead Mages—nor hesitation, as if two powerful foes, who previously required several people to gang up on, weren’t waiting ahead for him. His steps were like a leisurely walk by a pond on a summer night, or a wander in the garden on a spring afternoon, relaxed yet filled with tranquility, step by step.

Darkness pervaded all around, accompanied by stillness. After the door had closed, it felt like entering an isolated space, with only the monotone footsteps and the prolonged breaths echoing through the darkness, sound after sound, as if they would never cease.

Pannis walked forward leisurely with his hands behind his back, in a realm shrouded by darkness. Vision was not needed, nor even hearing required, for every corner on this path, every obstacle, every tiny detail, had been deeply imprinted in his memory a hundred years ago. A hundred years had passed, he might have forgotten insignificant experiences, perhaps even the names of old friends, but he would never forget this path, leading to the destination but also to the ultimate nightmare. Walking on this path, although he could not see his surroundings, every step taken, texts and murals on the walls beside reverberated from his memory, appearing right before his eyes. Along with the texts and murals, faces emerged as well—not only the fierce faces of enemies but also the faces of old friends, whether still present or only chased in memories, all so clear as if everything had just happened yesterday, clear as if their familiar voices might ring in his ears at any moment.

"It’s this path to the Between the Rituals again," in the darkness, Pannis sighed softly, "Am I destined to be entwined with this path all my life? I hope this is the final time I walk this path. You all will be watching over me, supporting me, right?"

The faces in his memory, of course, did not answer his question, but Pannis seemed to have received a satisfactory response. After a few light chuckles, he ceased to speak, continuing his journey silently.

He walked through the long corridor, bypassed the Hall of the Undead Whispers, crossed the profound Believers’ Hall, and entered the immense temple library, casually brushing past the shelves beside him. The shelves, empty in his memory, were now restocked with numerous books, yet, filling up those giant shelves would be a long and arduous process—a process that probably could never be completed again. Yet, could there really be no unforeseen occurrences? Pannis smiled helplessly, who knows about these things?

Reaching the very center of the temple library, he went down along the wooden spiral staircase. The scent of paper, parchment, and ink mixed with the slightly acrid smell of decaying wood was not unpleasant; many believed it to be the scent of knowledge. Is that really the case? If Lina and Vivian were here, they’d be overjoyed, unable to contain themselves with so many books. Just looking at them would likely intoxicate them for a long time. Unfortunately, it’s probably not possible for them to see these books with their own eyes, at least not now.

"Yes, just for now," Pannis nodded, as if talking to himself, "Soon, everything will be different."

One step, one step, one hundred and fifty-four steps, no more, no less. One hundred and fifty-four steps, representing one hundred and fifty-four hours. In the era of Danacus, when Triclops perished by accident, their souls would return to the World of the Dead and enter eternal rest after one hundred and fifty-four hours. Those who could not rest within one hundred and fifty-four hours would turn into Wraiths, bearing eternal cold and pain until purified or finally relieved. Therefore, in the church of Danacus, one hundred and fifty-four represented the most crucial number, marking the ultimate boundary between life and death, stepping over it signified returning to the ultimate eternity.

"Sadly, it’s not that effective though," Pannis tapped the handrails of the stairs lightly, scoffing, "I have crossed this barrier many times, yet I am still standing here. Danacus, this time, can you truly take my soul away?"

This was, of course, a question that no one could answer. Nothing had yet happened, and there would never be anyone who could be certain of the outcome. Perhaps only a deity who could see everything or a mysterious being that could see all the mysteries of the past and future might be exceptions, but clearly, Pannis was not one of them, nor was Danacus. Therefore, Pannis just chuckled and, enveloped by darkness, stepped out of the temple’s library and into the levels below the temple.

The pathways and rooms in the lower level were not symmetrically aligned with those above. The corridors here were narrower, the rooms smaller. As he continued along the corridor, passing by the entrances to several meditation rooms, Pannis didn’t bother to open these unoccupied rooms. In his past memories, a green-skinned fool had done so, resulting in several high-rank Danacan priests’ ghouls bursting out of a room, unleashing a pointless battle. As for Pannis, he was not worried about encountering another battle now; it was simply unnecessary.

Continuously weaving through the corridors, Pannis drew closer to the temple’s core. Along the way, he encountered no enemies, which was within his expectations. Presumably, all the believers and ghouls had already gathered in the Great Ceremony Hall above, besieging the girls. The only four ghouls not involved in the battle were probably just guarding their own rooms. It was unclear which side they were hoping would win. Since they refrained from fighting, they clearly were not eager to see their side, representing living beings, defeated. However, if his side were victorious, it would mean the death of two moribund, and these ghouls, transformed by the moribund and reliant on their power to maintain their current state, would also die once the moribund perished. Those four neutrals must be caught in the greatest dilemma and conflict now.

Pannis gave a wicked smile and suddenly stopped walking. Here at a crossroads, four directions extended into straight corridors, seemingly unremarkable. If Pannis continued forward, there would be no more diversions, just a few turns before reaching the entrance to "Between the Rituals." Yet here, Pannis paused, silently bowing his head as if he saw something in the darkness. Moments later, he sighed deeply, kneeled on one knee, pulled a small bag of barley wine from his backpack, and started to carefully sprinkle it around his feet. Once half the bag was emptied, he tilted his head back and gulped the remaining wine, muttering softly, "Oh, Finche the Shaman, as an elder, lying to the young isn’t a good habit, is it? Aren’t Beastmen supposed to be straightforward and honest? Why were you so adept at lying, tricking all of us?

"If I had known the state of your health at that time, I never would have agreed to your joining us. Carl, that fool, also deceived us along with you, or did you deceive that brain-all-muscle fool as well?"

"That battle back then was our first and unfortunately final meeting. Before we set off, we had made plans to celebrate our victory with copious amounts of strong drink in your tribe, vowing not to stop until we were completely intoxicated. Sadly, neither you nor I kept that promise."

"Now, here I am back at this place. Although it is not the exact location, being a projection of it, it should suffice as a substitute. Here, I offer you a bag of strong drink, hoping you can still watch over us from behind, no, watch over me as I march toward victory."

"Old friend, don’t rush. Once everything is over, as long as I am still alive, I will visit your tribe, and then I will drink with you, depleting all the stores of your tribe’s wine."

He tossed away the empty wine bag casually, stretched his body, and inhaled deeply in the dark void. The cracking of his joints echoed clearly in the silent surroundings, as if announcing his arrival. He exhaled heavily, finally straightened his Swordsman’s attire at the collar and hem, and with a gentle, serene smile that recalled the Kyle of years past, he walked the final stretch and unhesitatingly pushed open the doors to "Between the Rituals."

"We meet again here, Mr. Kyle. Please come in; we have been waiting for you for a long time." The room inside "Between the Rituals" was brilliantly lit, and even though Pannis had squinted as much as possible, his vision was still blurry at first. Because of this, he did not immediately enter the room but stood at the doorway until his eyes adjusted to the light, then calmly stepped in. The doors of "Between the Rituals" slowly closed behind him, to be opened again only once everything had