The Paladin in the Abyss

Stay updated with My Virtual Library Empire

"Long time no see, you've grown quite impressive," Lancelot appraised the muscular Nightmare, noting several fresh scars. "What happened to you? Got too big and decided to play king?"

The Nightmare whimpered plaintively and drooped its eyelids as if to say 'they started it first.' Lancelot couldn't help but laugh heartily at the creature's expressive antics, gently stroking its forehead. This was a gesture designed to deepen the bond between a knight and his steed, and the Nightmare seemed to enjoy the attention.

After a heartfelt exchange with his mount, Lancelot mounted up, but after just a few steps, he pulled on the reins again.

The Nightmare looked back in confusion, and Lancelot gestured for it to look down at its hooves.

Flames blazed around the hooves of the demonic horse, charring the ground wherever it trod. The Nightmare turned its innocent gaze back to Lancelot, who smacked it with a slap.

"You need to be environmentally conscious, understand?" Lancelot glared at his steed, "Put out the flames on your hooves, now."

The demonic horse let out an even more pitiful whine, as if Lancelot had made an unreasonable request. But his unwavering gaze intimidated the Nightmare, making it feel that if it didn't comply immediately, this human might just jump off and chop off all four of its hooves.

Under Lancelot's watchful eye, the flames beneath the Nightmare's hooves extinguished. Its hooves remained hot, and the grass it had trodden on turned noticeably yellow and curled, but at least it wouldn't leave a trail of small flames across the ground. Such a sight was much too reminiscent of a villain's entrance, which, while earning it some respect in most layers of the Abyss, wouldn't fly south of the Hoffenstan River.

Although the Aira are the most carefree and free-spirited of the three major Celestials, their aversion to evil is equally strong—the Aira are the only forces from the upper planes to have ever directly sent an army to attack the Abyss. That ancient war thwarted the Obyrith's plans to conquer the entire Multiverse after the chaos and led to the decline of the Obyrith Demon Race and the rise of the Tanari Demon Race.

Naturally, Lancelot did not want his mount to cause any misunderstandings.

Having settled the image issue of his steed, Lancelot finally let the horse gallop freely. It had to be said that the Nightmare beneath him was truly an excellent warhorse, running as swiftly as a cheetah, with hills, fields, and forests rapidly left behind. The ground seemed to quiver slightly under its hooves, its powerful body containing an unstoppable force, as if dozens of heavily armored knights were charging alongside him.

It reminded him of some of the glorious battles from the past. Lancelot was Albert's strongest knight—his fearless charges against the enemy were either the beginning filled with honor or the decisive end of a battle. The simplicity of that lifestyle was so satisfying that he neglected many things happening around him.

In a way, it was those very things he failed to notice that now had him deep in the Abyss, a world that once seemed to exist only in religious myths. The natives here had nothing to do with words like hospitable—they were powerful and brutal, eager to tear to shreds anything living in their sight, merely to relieve the boredom in their hearts.

Lancelot felt that he was doing quite well for himself. Don't get him wrong—his opinion of this place was no different from anyone else's—the Abyss was definitely the worst place in the entire Multiverse, bar none. Although he had encountered Han Tianzun, who had accidentally come to this world, and received a legacy of a Spiritual Cultivator that could compare to ascending to godhood, this was not the reason he 'liked' this plane.

Unlike the world Lancelot had once belonged to, the creatures on this plane were much more 'simple.' Demons never hid their emotions, and the scheming merchants were very straightforward when intending to deceive. Here in the Abyss, Lancelot lived a life of a 'pure' warrior—battle, defeating enemies, completing quests, survival, without worrying about upstaging his superiors or engaging in the intrigue for land, titles, or honours.

Thinking back, stepping through that Portal that took him away from the world he knew did carry a hint of self-exile.

Fortunately, he had met many wonderful people. Bruto, Kalalin, Little Eisha, Alamir, Koula, Cromwell, Elothysia—Lancelot was glad to have made friends with them. With the company of his companions, the Abyss no longer seemed so terrible; life had become an adventure to look forward to, and Lancelot was confident the others felt the same.

Of course, there was Tijana, the beautiful and powerful Succubus Lord with an inexplicable trait that deeply attracted Lancelot. Despite that, he remained clear-headed; it was best not to think of progressing their relationship further before forming his Golden Core.

Lancelot let his thoughts wander aimlessly as he reveled in the thrill of galloping on horseback. He hadn't relaxed like this in a long time, and the scenery here was truly fantastic. The demon steed beneath him seemed to share his mood at the moment, running wildly as if it were a passing Whirlwind.

Perhaps Nightmare was running a bit too fast; before Lancelot had his fill of riding, his Spirit Perception sensed Bruto and the others' presence. He turned his horse around and rode towards his companions, soon spotting the others.

"Yo! Lancelot!" Bruto, sitting astride an Elves' chestnut steed, greeted him with a cheerful laugh, "Not bad, eh? Arms and legs all intact—I can rest easy now."

The rest pulled their reins and gathered around Lancelot. Kalalin was riding a Nightmare too, though compared to Lancelot's mount, it was practically a goat, with Cromwell and his skull attire following behind; the Succubus Paladin still rode her majestic Heavy Armor warhorse, with two excited Aira children in front and the Halfling chef behind.

Their mounts were clearly well acquainted with Lancelot's Nightmare, greeting each other enthusiastically with the exchange of spit.

"Where's Little Eisha? She all right?" Elothysia, noticing one figure was missing, asked with concern.

"Of course she's fine. The sun is too strong right now, we'll let her out tonight," Lancelot was equally pleased to see all of his companions unharmed, "Dong Quan, where are we now, and how much farther to your home?"