The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 493 - 517 The Changing Dwarf

Chapter 493: Chapter 517: The Changing Dwarf Chapter 493: Chapter 517: The Changing Dwarf After a night of rest, everyone was reinvigorated. Having enjoyed a hearty breakfast, the group left Skeleton Tower and entered the interior of the Great Abyss.

Except for old Reap, the others had only come to this place a few months ago and were not unfamiliar with how to travel in such steep environments, while the Werewolf also seemed to adapt very well.

Their location was not too deep, though the Plains of the Abyss’s sky could not be seen, the surrounding environment was not dim. The air was filled with a red mist, the result of the Blood River waterfalls continuously striking the rocks. If this were the Prime Material Plane, any rock in the path of the waterfall would have been eroded away over countless centuries, but in the Great Abyss, the terrain is constantly changing.

Actually, the only relatively stable area in this plane is the region around the spine-like Skeleton Tower, which is one of the reasons Mogrondale City exists. Lancelot used to be curious about what kind of creature that spine had belonged to, but lately, he had gradually come to realize another possibility: that spine might very well be the backbone of the Great Abyss itself, providing some stability to this chaotic and ever-changing plane.

Thanks to Sareth’s Shield Eye’s ‘map’ feature, Lancelot planned a route that avoided other Portals. As gateways to other layers of the Abyss, many Portals were heavily guarded by the masters of their respective planes, some even had fortresses and bastions built as permanent fortifications.

Of course, the natural Portals entering certain layers weren’t only found in the Great Abyss, on the Plains of the Abyss, any crack in the ground could lead to another plane, but usually, only the most desperate individuals—unlucky souls who’ve wandered into the Abyss or Low Rank Demons chased by conscription squads—would choose to jump in, for one never knows what lies on the other side of the door.

Though they circumvented those fortresses with heavy guards, the group still occasionally encountered attacks from beast Demons. The most common were the Flomos, demons with vulture wings that could release clouds of deadly poison. They were very troublesome for most Adventurers, but Lancelot and his companions had gained ample experience in dealing with them. The attacking Flomos, aside from bringing some joy to the combative Bruto, caused no substantial harm.

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The Dwarf’s fighting style had also undergone a noticeable transformation recently. When he first began adventuring with Lancelot, though always passionate, Bruto was more like a warrior—meaning he always maintained control of his stance, carefully selected his targets, and was ever mindful of the surrounding situation and the condition of his teammates, and this was the concept Lancelot had long tried to instill in him through training.

However, more and more signs suggested that Bruto was taking the road of the Barbarians, surrendering to that uncontrollable, unceasing, and thoughtless rage in combat. Although Lancelot did not approve of this fighting style, he had to admit it was Bruto’s nature; the Dwarf, when in a Berserk State, was stronger, faster, and his body seemed to harden like rock, greatly reducing the damage that weapons could inflict.

In Lancelot’s view, it all started with that Dwarf bartender named Dag they met at Melanthan. As a former member of the ‘Guts and Glory’ legion, he had added some sharp accessories to their armor, but Bruto was the only one who truly used those ‘decorations’ in battle and enjoyed it too.

During the month they stayed in Androlina, Bruto would run to the Warhammer Tavern every day, pestering Dag to teach him more about the ‘Guts and Glory’ legion’s combat tricks. According to what Bruto later boasted to the group, Dag taught him a fighting style known as ‘Berserker,’ unique to the Dwarf race.

But according to Alamir, in Faerûn, which was the world Dag and his people came from, ‘Berserkers’ were indeed famous, but not in an endearing way. No one denied their usefulness in battle, but their stupidity and stubbornness were indistinguishable from rocks—likely because their daily training included repeatedly headbutting stones.

Furthermore, what made the berserkers unbearable to most was the fact that these fellows actually took pride in not bathing! Combined with their heavy daily training, one could only imagine how foul the berserkers must have smelled, even to the point where other dwarves couldn’t stand these stinky guys. Thankfully, Dag must have gotten over this nasty habit through his interactions with the Airas of Androlina, otherwise, without needing Alamir to speak up, Lancelot would have been the first to dunk Bruto’s head into the Stygian River, until he completely forgot anything related to being a berserker.

After trekking for the better part of the day, the group finally reached the portal to the Iron Ice Plains. There had once been a fortress guarding the entrance to the portal, but it now looked abandoned. Through the collapsed, unattended walls, the icy blue portal hovered in mid-air, with the cold wind and snowflakes continuously fluttering out from within, covering a small area around it with a layer of pristine snow.

“Wait here for me a while, and put on some cold-weather clothes,” Lancelot told the others. “I’ll go check out the situation over there. If there’s nothing unusual, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, no one bothered to ask whether Lancelot was going to change his clothes—the human knight was already considered extraordinary in their eyes. Lancelot took a deep breath, hoisted the Giant Sword Glacier in his hand, and stepped into the portal.

After a very slight sensation of vertigo, he found himself standing atop a mountain peak. The strong wind, carrying a flurry of snowflakes, struck his face like a beast roaring at him. Wherever he looked, there were mountains, and at the base of these mountains was a massive crevasse stretching for miles, out of which black fog continually spewed.

With his knowledge of this plane, Lancelot could not determine his location, but the crevasse might provide some clues. He found a rock that offered a bit of shelter from the wind and snow, sat cross-legged on the spot, and entered a state of meditation.

After carefully scanning the surrounding area with Spiritual Sight, Lancelot confirmed there were no lurking creatures nearby, so he got up again, passed through the icy blue portal, and called the rest of his companions through.

“Achoo!”

As soon as they passed through the portal, the dwarf let out a big sneeze. At this moment, he was wrapped in a thick layer of bear skin over his armor, but it was still hard to withstand the strong winds on the mountain top.

“It’s colder here than I thought,” said the dwarf, tightening his leather coat and brushing the snowflakes off his collar. “Can we hurry down the mountain? This place is just not fit for people…”

“Don’t rush,” Lancelot pointed to the rock where he had been sitting. “Let’s find some shelter there. We need to complete the ritual for Olul first.”

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