The weird voice sometimes sounded like a woman who had lost her husband and children, wailing in sorrow, and at other times like a crazed beast, filled with the desire to destroy everything in rage and madness.
The voice was not loud.
Yet it kept echoing through the only passageway.
It was a chill and weirdness that even the soft glow of the Magic Lamp could not dispel.
Even though these people were all Holy Men, fairly strong in their own right, with Goddess Rose Vesper sitting in support right behind them, they still felt a tingling sensation on their scalps at this moment.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter...
The Holy Knights' metal boots struck the stairs' stone plate with a dull thud.
Even though the spiral staircase leading downwards seemed lengthy yet clear under the light of the Magic Lamp, without any dangerously twisted monsters in sight, every step felt burdened as if a heavy stone weighed upon their hearts.
An indescribable oppression clung tight to everyone's chest.
