Pillar of Yita

The Phantom Realm gradually dissipated, and Nikopolas’s massive figure disintegrated along with the swirling sand, finally turning into rustling stones that rolled to the ground. Fang Hong wasn’t sure whether this Dragon’s Witch had truly left or if she had left her consciousness behind to secretly monitor his every move. But he didn’t care much, nor did he look back, just walked forward together with Miss Atira.

Their arrival here wasn’t merely for one Eve. There was also Atira’s brother, Lady Kuisu’s son, tens of thousands of Dolifen’s dead, and the souls of countless innocents.

After enduring innumerable hardships to reach this place, with countless perilous experiences in between, as the answer loomed ahead, how could they possibly stop? At worst, they would pay with their lives.

He turned back to exchange a glance with Atira, and the Elf Miss quietly nodded at him.

After passing through the exit of the dark prison, there was a staircase leading downward. This should be the passage Miss Tata mentioned, leading to the next level. Fang Hong confirmed with Miss Fairy, who nodded silently.

The long staircase resembled an endless downward path, and the narrow environment gave a relentless sense of oppression as if at any moment, the walls around would close in, ready to bury one beneath the depths below.

The paving bricks of the staircase were made of the heaviest blocks, each one a full two and a half feet long, with a dense material seeping a brown-red hue between them.

Fang Hong knew it was a special kind of paint from Istania, but here it always gave an unsettling feeling, as if it was formed by the layers of dried blood.

Descending the stairs, below was still another layer of the dark prison.

But here, the cells were even gloomier than above. Through Dark Vision, Fang Hong eyed silently along the narrow path, sweeping his gaze over the stone chambers on either side. Some of these chambers couldn’t even accommodate a person lying sideways; those locked inside had to endure standing, subjected to that torment.

Usually, within a few days, they would die in agony due to mental collapse.

There was also a type of cell called the water prison, though its water had long since dried up.

Yet Fang Hong could imagine its former state — a foul layer of scum floating on the water surface, worms crawling in the darkness, and occasionally a dead, half-rotten rat drifting by.

What they called Hell wasn’t more than this.

This place was meant to imprison those guilty of the gravest crimes. If captured by the Dragon Worship Sect in places like Golande or Elpaxin, this was likely their fate.

On Earth, some thought this was too ’inhumane.’

Yet Fang Hong believed some people truly deserved it.

However, in Idus, in the deepest underground, this prison had once been used by some for alternate purposes. He walked all the way to the end before reaching a different kind of room altogether. What Praetor Garcia prepared for Eve was a space that could even be called ’spacious.’

But ’spacious’ was only relative to the extreme conditions outside. Inside this ’spacious’ ’residence,’ there was little more than a bed where one could only curl up to sleep, along with a small space barely enough for a spike to stand.

Of course, this wasn’t from some sudden pang of conscience, but because they didn’t want Eve to truly die —

”Lord Ameya, look at this unimaginable evil,” Atira whispered, ”To imprison an innocent girl in such a place, Garcia and Alte may be the masterminds, but can everyone else just watch it happen?”

”To those with Dragon’s Golden Eyes, perhaps ordinary people think she deserves to be here.” Fang Hong quietly replied, ”Besides, how many people would care what it’s like down here?”

Atira shook her head; she was an Elf, and Forest Elves viewed all life as equal, not even looking down on Dwarf Goblins like ordinary people would. She couldn’t understand human emotions like these — hatred and enmity that seemed inexplicable to the Elves.

Moreover, even the Dwarfs on the Holy Mountain, although they remembered every offense against them etched on the slates of the Sanctified Forge Hall, as the Dwarven proverb states: every score has its owner. Resentment has a head, debt has a master, and they would never trouble the innocent.

Yet mortals could easily push others into the abyss over suspicion, arrogance, or misunderstanding. Although possibly not inherently subjective, such emotions could be easily exploited by those with ulterior motives.

Such stories didn’t only play out in Eteliria, but also repeated on Earth time and again.

Fang Hong wiped the surrounding paving bricks with his hand.

The tactile response was unusual, like a sensation between Crystal and stone.

In Eteliria, there were only a few materials with such a feel, but there was truly only one type used to construct prisons, known as ’Eternal Stone.’

Fang Hong withdrew his hand. This implied that even in death, one would simply resurrect here itself. Starlight couldn’t anchor a Resurrection Point outside of Eternal Stone. This was the domain of Guardian Terra Wotu or the Divine Kingdom of the Lady of Catastrophe, Moyadimas.

However, these two Deities would have to be blind to let such events unfold in their domain. Perhaps another Deity was worshiped here, a Dark Saint similarly overseeing the domain of incarceration.