I have an Apocalypse City

Chapter 781: Chapter 781: The Fallen Angel

Song Jian noticed that the Abyss Temptations and the Fallen Angels here seemed to be more spirited than the ones outside. Some of them even engaged in quiet conversations. They all spoke in the language of the Abyss which wasn’t a problem for Song Jian.

A Fallen Angel brushed past Song Jian, causing him to tense up. This Fallen Angel appeared to have sensed something and turned to look in Song Jian’s direction, its eyes filled with confusion.

Song Jian stood perfectly still. A bead of cold sweat rolled down from his forehead, down his cheek. After a moment, the Fallen Angel shook its head and continued to walk forward. Song Jian managed to catch the drop of sweat, his heart pounding.

It seemed that the Abyss Concealment Skill inherent to the Concealment Necklace was of a high level, able to conceal him even from the perception of a level 40 Elite Boss.

Song Jian headed towards the relatively intact buildings. The farther he ventured in, the more creatures he encountered. They roamed around the buildings, their activities unknown to Song Jian.

He then spotted a rather grand building ahead, a three-story stone tower. This stone tower, which bore numerous scratches and moss, was probably the best-preserved structure here, carrying the traces of time.

Despite the tower’s ancient appearance, it was the most intact and eye-catching building he had come across.

After some hesitation, Song Jian headed towards the stone tower. Two Fallen Angels stood guard at the entrance. As he carefully walked past them, the one on the left seemed to sense something. It pulled out its longsword and made a hostile swipe at the entrance.

Song Jian rolled into the first floor of the stone tower the moment he sensed the Fallen Angel draw its sword.

The sword only cut through empty air. The Fallen Angel pulled back its sword expressionlessly. Its companion on the other side looked at it strangely but didn’t say anything. The two Fallen Angels returned to their statue-like stance.

Song Jian was covered in a cold sweat. The level of the Abyss Concealment Skill might have been just enough to jolt the edge of detection of a level 40 Elite Boss. While it couldn’t see through Song Jian’s stealth state, it could sense slight traces. If he hadn’t been so alert just now, his stealth would’ve been compromised by the Fallen Angel.

The first floor of the stone tower was empty of possessions. A stone staircase by the wall led to the second floor. Song Jian thought about it, then decided to ascend the stairs.

On the second floor, there were several racks apparently for placing items. All of them were made of blackwood, emitting a metallic sound when knocked. It felt like ironwood.

Unfortunately, the racks were all empty, devoid of any item.

Song Jian felt a pang of disappointment. Could it be that there were no clues about the seven Great Demon Lords in this stone tower and all his previous guesses were wrong?

Unwilling to give up, Song Jian continued to climb to the third floor and entered the highest level of the stone tower.

Here, Song Jian finally made a discovery. He saw two Fallen Angels in silver armor. But unlike others, the wings of the two were not black but grey. Black mists, the Abyssal Chains, were wrapped around them.

The black mists, looking like tentacles, sprouted from the chains and reached towards the wings of the Angels. Whenever the grey aura touched the wings, sparks flew, causing the black mists to retract like a frightened animal.@@novelbin@@

However, after a short while, the black tentacle-like mists would extend from the Abyssal Chains again. Each encounter elicited energy from the wings, repelling the mists. But with each encounter, a strand as thin as a hair remained on the wings.

Despair was evident on the faces of the two angels, bound by the Abyssal Chains. Even suicide was not an option for them. They could only endure, quietly, the erosion of the languid aura of the abyss.

They kept resisting, refusing to fall. But if they succumbed, the aura would drag them into the Abyss, turning them into Fallen Angels.

Between the angels, there was a large half person-tall chest, radiating a dark golden light. It was constructed of an unknown material, inscribed with complex and eerie magical patterns that intermittently glowed.

The two bound angels ignored the treasure chest between them, silently enduring the corrosion of the Abyssal Chains.

“Kekaul, can you… can you keep going?” The Fallen Angel on the left asked in a pained whisper.

“Tula, are you giving up?” Kekaul gritted his teeth. “Have you truly forgotten the glory of God and want to become a monster like those outside?”

“God?” Tula gave a bitter smile. “We’ve been tormented here for hundreds of years. But our God… he never once showed up!”

“Tula, this is God’s test for us. I believe as long as we persist, we will be saved!” Kekaul responded with steadfast conviction.

Just then, the black chains binding Kekaul coalesced into a 7 or 8 meter-long whip, and started to lash his body viciously.

Crack, crack, crack.

Black lash marks appeared on Kekaul’s silver armor. The whipping seemed to inflict more than just physical pain; his soul also bore a sensation of being ripped apart.

Large beads of sweat rolled off Kekaul’s forehead. A pained expression twisted his face as he struggled to suppress his moans. After more than a dozen lashes, the whip dissipated back into the black mists of the Abyssal Chains.

Seeing Kekaul being whipped, Tula’s face clouded with remorse, soon replaced by a look of agony.

“Kekaul, I… I feel like I can’t hold on much longer!” Tula took a deep breath, his body trembling slightly. His once light-grey wings instantly darkened.

With his head lowered, Kekaul didn’t engage Tula in further conversation. Instead, he started softly reciting hymns. As he chanted, the Abyssal Chains constricted him even more, causing his silver breastplate to creak, as thin cracks started spreading across its surface.

“God, why won’t you save us!” Tula roared in anguish, and his wings turned jet-black, as if doused in a bucket of ink.

…