Dungeon King: A Lady Knight Offered by My Goblins

As the ritualist witnessed Ethan’s method of attack, a sudden spark of life ignited in his otherwise dead fish-like eyes.

Atop the Blasphemous Spear, multiple forces were at play, each more complex than the last.

Without hesitation, the ritualist channeled all his energy, his blood surging through his body like a raging river.

Beneath his neck, the octopus tentacles hardened, resembling steel needles.

As they collided, a massive wave of energy radiated outward in all directions.

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat, and a mouthful of fresh blood sprayed out.

But in the next moment, propelled by the rebounding force, Ethan dashed towards the entrance of Santos Tower like an arrow released from its bow.

The ritualist, momentarily stunned, bellowed:

“Cowardly Invader, where is your spirit of battle?”

Ethan’s cold voice drifted through the wind:

“You Serpent Eye Cult minions, just wait. Once I emerge from Santos Tower, I’ll show you what real torment is.”

At full strength, Ethan could undoubtedly match the ritualist blow for blow.

But it was unnecessary. Alvin’s quest was of greater importance.

A promise noticed by a deity from the Deityforsaken Land had to be prioritized.

With a speed akin to lightning, Ethan, grasping Lana Mokos and Daphne’s hands, plunged into Santos Tower.

The ritualist watched Ethan’s figure disappear, his octopus tentacles slowly “flowing” back into his body.

“Jili gurgle — (What should we do, master?)” a follower of the Serpent Eye Cult inquired.

“Gua gugu jiji — (Ignore him. We’ll just wait here for them.)” The ritualist’s eyes gleamed with a sinister blue light as he gestured dismissively.

Seeing the ritualist had spoken, the others fell silent.

Only the ritualist knew the eerie and unpredictable nature of Santos Tower, where dangers lurked at every turn.

Inside, it harbored horrors comparable to 11th-rank warriors, numerous as hairs on an ox.

Even more daunting, it housed Demi-god level evil entities. For Ethan, entering was akin to flirting with death.

However, the ritualist’s gaze slowly shifted to King.

King, unfazed by the prospect of death, proclaimed loudly:

“I am a Deity Keeper. What do you plan to do with me?”

A cold sneer spread across the ritualist’s face as his suckers contracted wildly:

“A Deity Keeper, playing lapdog to Invaders. If I threw you into City 32, you’d be beaten to death on the streets.”

Unintimidated, King’s energy surged around him:

“Dying for my master is an honor. What are you in comparison?”

The ritualist’s eyes flickered, his octopus tentacles swaying uncertainly.

He was genuinely curious why a Deity Keeper would follow an Invader with such zeal.

Without further ado, the ritualist extended his tentacles, binding King.

King resisted briefly, but the chasm in their powers was like a vast gulf.

It wasn’t long before King was overpowered, posing no threat to the ritualist.

“If you dare, kill me. My master will avenge me!” King, his neck entwined by tentacles, struggled to breathe. His face was flushed, but his words remained defiant.

The ritualist spoke indifferently, “I won’t kill you. I will make your master die before my eyes, and then you shall serve as the nurturing vessel for the newborns of our Serpent Eye Cult.”

At this, King’s complexion dramatically changed. He struggled violently, but against the ritualist’s overwhelming power, he had no chance of resistance.

Becoming a vessel for the Serpent Eye Cult’s monstrous offspring was a fate of unspeakable agony.

These monstrosity fetuses, with their complex makeup, would drain the host of all nutrients.

The horrific outcome was beyond King’s worst nightmares.

…

Inside the Santos Tower.

As Ethan stepped into this land, after a brief sensation of tearing, his eyes instantly filled with vigilant light.

If not mentioned, Ethan might have thought he had entered hell itself.

Here, darkness and flames intertwined, creating a terrifying and eerie tableau.

The first thing that caught his eye was a river of molten lava. The searing magma churned, emitting a bone-chilling roar.

Within the magma, countless tormented souls wailed. Their skin was charred black, limbs twisted and deformed, as if enduring endless agony.

They reached out, clinging to the shore, attempting to climb out of the magma, but not a single soul could achieve it.

It was as though giant hands in the magma were pulling them back in.

Their faces were etched with regret and despair, sending shivers down one’s spine.

Seeing such a scene, Daphne, like a frightened kitten, hid behind Ethan.

Ethan, protecting Daphne, whispered:

“Is this Santos Tower? It looks more like hell. Could Santos Tower be a portal to the underworld?”I think you should take a look at

Lana Mokos, her body enveloped in a shimmering water-blue light, stood tense:

“My records have no information about Santos Tower, but this place seems ominous.”

Ethan moved forward, each step slow and deliberate.

He paid careful attention to where he stepped, as the ground was littered with bones, and magma flowed sluggishly on the surface. 

A moment’s inattention could see him stepping into the molten rock.

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A dark shadow swept across the sky, carrying with it the frantic wails of the damned in the wind.

Ethan, his spear ablaze, thrust it forward, scattering the shadow into fragments.

The shadow let out a ferocious cry that echoed painfully in the depths of Ethan’s soul.

Then, the shadow reformed in the air, quickly fleeing, not daring to provoke Ethan and his companions again.

“What was that thing?” Ethan narrowed his eyes, watching the shadow disappear into the distance.

“I’m not sure,” Lana Mokos shook her head slightly, “It might be a mutated spirit. Places like this are breeding grounds for them.”

As the trio continued forward, they encountered many such situations.

Attacks by spirits or swarming ghostly figures…

Ethan, with his substantial strength, managed to fend off these beings without much difficulty.

They followed the river of magma and soon arrived at a massive bridge.

The trio stopped at the head of the bridge, not daring to take another step forward.

The reason was the bridge itself, constructed entirely of countless skulls, forming a sight that sent chills down the spine.

The skulls were tightly arranged, like pieces of a vast puzzle, covering the entire bridge densely.

Each skull was pale and terrifying, exuding an aura of death.

Strangely, Ethan could see expressions on those cold, hollow skulls.

The faces of these skulls varied – some showed expressions of agony, others twisted into gruesome smiles, and still others were vacant and lifeless, as if they had lost all consciousness.

Their eyes, deep-set in the sockets, twinkled with a sinister light, sending shivers down one’s spine.

The teeth of the skulls were sharp and pointed, like the fangs of a beast, seemingly ready to tear into any who dared come close.

Their craniums were covered in cracks and scratches, as if they had endured countless tortures and ravages.

The number of skulls on the entire bridge was incalculable.

They were piled up together, forming what seemed like an endless wall, isolating the bridge from the outside world.

Just standing at the head of the bridge, Ethan already felt the intense presence of death.

It seemed as if taking one more step forward meant entering a world of death, where countless Wraiths would swarm and encircle him relentlessly.

Ethan nervously swallowed, unsure of what to do next.

Daphne was terrified, hiding behind Ethan, only her eyes peering out at the skull-strewn stone bridge.

Lana Mokos, shaking her head repeatedly, her voice trembling, said:

“No, I can’t set foot on this bridge, even if it means death.”

Unexpectedly, the first challenge they faced upon entering Santos Tower was this daunting.

Ethan looked around. Darkness engulfed the area, the air was thick with the smell of sulfur, and flames licked like tongues of fire, scorching everything in this small world.

“We have no choice but to go,” Ethan withdrew his gaze and focused again on the skull bridge, “There’s no other path for us.”

After entering Santos Tower, their only way was a rugged path leading to the skull bridge. Everywhere else was enveloped by boundless lava.

In that magma, souls writhed and tumbled, their agony and distortion rendering them even more uncontrollable.

Before Ethan and his companions, there was only this one path, no other choice.

“No, no, no,” Lana Mokos kept backing away, the horrific scene shattering her mental defenses, “I can’t do it. I’ve already seen it in my mind. The moment I step onto that skull bridge, those skulls will open their jaws to devour me.”

Ethan furrowed his brows, troubled.

“Then let me try it first. You two wait here, okay?”

With no other option, Ethan reluctantly proposed this solution.

Lana Mokos’ eyes lit up slightly, and even the usually clingy Daphne turned pale:

“Ethan, I won’t follow you then.”

Ethan gave a slight shrug, brandishing his spear.

Ever since he arrived in this world, he had never learned the meaning of fear. All terror stemmed from one’s lack of strength, but this was not a weakness of Ethan’s.

Regardless of whatever demons or ghosts lay ahead, Ethan was confident in his ability to vanquish them.

“Alright, just wait here for a bit.”

Ethan took a step forward, half of his body crossing onto the skull bridge.

The instant he stepped on it, Ethan felt a bone-chilling cold envelop him.

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