82.After the horror, go straight to the meal: Is there a reason for torment when there is a way out?

"Call forth the shadows," I commanded, my voice resonating with a mixture of urgency and determination.

As I beckoned the shadows to my side, the cavern seemed to shrink, its confines no match for the relentless encroachment of the void.

"What's our next move?" Moss, always eager, had already settled on the summoned shadows, cocooned in their dark embrace, his eyes ablaze with an intense curiosity.

I pressed my back against the cave wall, directing the Dark Threads to weave a protective barrier both above and below. The threads gingerly interacted with the pools of darkness, barely grazing the edges of the abyss.

By utilizing my Spectral Familiar, I discovered that it could pass through the void created by the magic circle. This was a crucial revelation.

Yes, this place was originally designed for the most cruel forms of torture, with execution being the ultimate fate that awaited its unfortunate prisoners. A single escape route existed.

"Time's no longer on our side!" Bohr's voice echoed as he grasped his gleaming spear, his resolve unwavering. "The legacy of my people will guide me towards serenity."

"WAIT!" I bellowed, noting the impending cyclops attack.

The pointed tip of the spear punctured the skin of the shadow's neck, a minor wound compared to the looming threat.

"What then?" Bohr's frustration blazed through his words, "Wait for the abyss to consume us? I'd sooner turn against my own brethren than submit to that fate…" Bor's weapon clattered as the Raid's strike caught his hand, sending the spear hurtling into the void.

"Envelop yourselves with three shadows and focus on the most agonizing memory you possess. The rest is left to the hands of fate. Nami, it would be wise to prepare those healing elixirs."

"General of the Third Battalion Kai Theron has successfully unveiled the intent behind this abode. He is granted 200 points. Congratulations to those who wagered on the creatures and beasts' survival..."

"What manner of place is this?" Shaggy inquired, scratching his head with his tentacles.

The maw of darkness devoured us as I replied, "A chamber of souls' execution."

Suddenly, I found myself in a place of profound darkness. Specifically, I stood amidst the remains of the ancient giant civilization of Khassa, in their colossal burial grounds.

The skeletal remains of giants littered the ground, strewn across the ruins of what was once a village. Walking amidst the cold remains, I contemplated the true motives for the convergence of such a varied assembly at the Plaza Redemption. The forces of the 36th floor had long sought to assess our capabilities, and this was an ideal opportunity. By showcasing my potential, I could secure a direct path out of the Arena, and thereby plunge headfirst into the cutthroat competition for villainous rankings in the outer world.

A smirk tugged at my lips as I donned my helmet, settling on the edge of a fallen tree trunk.

[Enable Passive Revitalization.]

[Confirm?]

[Yes.]

My consciousness relinquished its hold on my body, opening the floodgates to the anguished cries of countless giant spirits, bent on avenging their unjust demise.

Less than an hour later, I reopened my bloodshot eyes and conjured a pair of Spectral Familiars. If my memory served me right, a valuable artifact lay hidden within these desolate grounds.

While many had fixated on deciphering the ancient inscriptions for their own salvation, few had thought of the potential gains amid the ordeal. Decrypting the ancient etchings revealed a deeper truth: anyone ensnared by this prison was condemned to die, yet the intricate scribbles hinted at a more intricate scheme.

Is my accursed trait of Cursed Welfare to blame for this bizarre ordeal?

I'm unsure. Yes, and it matters little to me. We are, in essence, all confined within the same realm, partitioned only by a thin veil of alternate realities. Within this so-called prison, the governing forces, which are often called soul memories. Otherwise, how else could I rationalize such a harrowing tableau?

A procession of giants' long-lost souls trailed behind me, spectral entities detached from their skeletal remains. The colossal bones themselves crumbled into dust, swept away by a gentle breeze that carried them toward the overcast sky.

The elves had vanished. The shadows had likely been consumed by this chamber's malevolent appetite. In essence, the captives had met their ends through self-inflicted demise, driven to desperate acts by this cruel predicament.

Creatures had even turned on their own kin, slaying them in a desperate bid to shield them from the consuming void. Others, trapped in a semi-lunatic state, had attempted to escape the maddening grip of the prison by tormenting their fellow captives, ultimately obliterating their own chances of salvation.

Of course, there were also those savage entities who regarded everyone as adversaries, eagerly eliminating their fellow captives to maximize their own odds of advancing to the next stage. A game of emotions layered with psychological manipulation—devels truly epitomized the comprehensive nature of bloodthirsty predation.

In instances where captives had slain their own shadows, they unwittingly forfeited the chance to depart the chamber. This gate to the subsequent stage absorbed the prisoners' memories and shadows, casting them into a realm of unending nightmares. But even among those who survived this trial, they arrived at the most enigmatic segment of the prison.

Surviving here necessitated an overwhelming expenditure of mental fortitude, rendering the captives akin to walking husks, devoid of vitality.

Everywhere, magical runes adorned the environment, serving not only to drive those who entered to the brink of madness but also preventing any form of observation from external parties. It appears even the devils themselves harbored apprehensions regarding the Illusion of Memories technique.

Could it be that even the spectators and the Caretakers remain oblivious to these proceedings?

Intriguing~

There's a wealth of hidden mysteries waiting to be uncovered in these depths, and they would have been looted long ago. Well, I shall embrace the role of an intrepid trailblazer.

Wandering upon this realm that mirrored reality, I eventually reached the precipice overlooking the reef-studded shoreline. A pebble soared from my foot and splashed into the placid sea, producing a muted sound. With a decisive step, I initiated my descent.

A potent surge of energy emanated from this location, sapping a fifth of my strength whenever the shadows wrested control—this was where elemental forces surged with unbridled power. Plunging my mental tendrils into the water's depths, I was met with formidable resistance in the form of magical barriers and wardens—semi-living entities that thrived in environments brimming with spiritual energy.

The first artifact lay nestled thousands of meters below.

Wading calf-deep into the inviting waters, I discarded my armor, inhaling air bubbles into the weave of Dark Threads.

Perhaps I should employ the Shield of Light?

Though it radiates light-based magic, it could potentially serve as a vessel for containing breathable air. Curse it, once I'm out of here, I'm purchasing an oxygen mask and ample supply tanks.

Drawing in a substantial lungful of air, to the point of discomfort, I plunged. Descending deeper and deeper, I navigated the labyrinthine passageways formed by rocky reefs.

Channeling all my Stamina into speed, I fought against the water's resistance, eager to reach my goal.

At least there are no adversaries.

This thought flitted across my mind like a stray arrow, coinciding with the appearance of a colossal shadow dozens of meters away.

Upon my tongue, I almost uttered an expletive. Descending just a few hundred meters I confronted by the custodians?!

Summoning my armor and weapons, I accelerated. The underwater cacophony threatened to rupture my eardrums. A shadow loomed beneath me, coalescing into the silhouette of a water dragon.

Bracing myself, I drew in the first threads of air and thrust my sword into the shadow's muzzle. The water turned inky, but it was clearly not blood.

Parting his maw, the dragon conjured a spiraling vortex that exerted a force pulling me towards its maw. Bereft of visible anchorage, I hastily summoned Poison Arrows and loosed them into the shadowy torso of the creature. The dragon's form swiftly deteriorated into blackened bubbles, vanishing alongside the dissipating whirlwind.

On every descent of a few hundred meters, I encountered the familiar custodians, their presence at times solitary and at others grouped, though pairs were the most recurrent formation. During these instances, I adroitly donned my invisibility cloak, striving to minimize engagement and continue my descent.

As the depth gauge slipped beyond the two-thousand mark, a subdued obsidian glint caught my attention, perceptible amidst the ocean's abyssal darkness.

Drawing in a measured breath, I propelled myself toward the multifaceted stone. The boulder required displacement to unveil the path leading to the treasures.

Putting my physical prowess to the test, I ensnared the entire stone in a web of thin threads. With gritted fangs, I exerted my strength, attempting to maneuver it laterally.

Alas, the endeavor proved fruitless.

Inhaling a larger lungful of air, I sequentially harnessed each skill at my disposal.

Nonetheless, the stone remained stubbornly immobile.

Rising to the surface, I scrutinized the boulder from a fresh perspective.

A weak point must exist.

Amidst the obsidian's base, I espied a verdant plant pressed against it, its leaves swaying gently. Following the extended stem, I spotted fine cracks in the stone's surface and a crevice adorned with arcane runes.

Fortune favors me!

I inhaled sharply as I tumbled upon a bounty of gold coins and sparkling jewels.

The cavern itself teemed with untold riches.

Ah.

[System.]

[Yes, Participant 137.]

[What is it?]

[Are you now wealthy?]

[Ha, that's an understatement. I'm wealthier than Croesus. Kindly calculate the aggregate value of the Spiritual Stones I could acquire through future exchanges.]

Nudging a gleaming golden crown with my foot, I retrieved an ornate dagger embedded within the glistening mountain and proceeded onward.

Naturally, en route, I funneled every mound of coins into my inventory, while the Spectral Familiars diligently scrutinized for traps. Fortunately, in this domain, their prevalence was virtually nonexistent. Ha-ha.

[The cumulative tally approaches 10,300,210 based on the average exchange rate. I recommend not converting all at once; you stand to gain more through staggered transactions.

Participant 137, two entry-level artifacts have also been unearthed, possessing aura-nourishing abilities. Do you wish to retain them?]

Two parchments adorned the stale air within the aquatic cavern, one embellished with a square enclosed within a circle, the other inscribed with enigmatic glyphs.

Since 605th broached the offer, these artifacts evidently hold more value than mere Spiritual Stones.

Affirming my decision with a click, I absorbed both cards using my metaphysical essence.

[Participant 137 augments his potency through entry-level artifacts for the first time.

+200 points across all attributes.

+1 to ranking.

+45,000 added to the cumulative balance of the System Store.]

A satisfied smile graced my features as I cast a parting glance at the now-empty cavern. With a sense of anticipation, I treaded onward, embarking upon a tunnel brimming with perilous traps.

This is just the beginning~

---

The Traveler's Book 163:

...The Execution Chamber of the Execution of Souls—the very name ignites the imagination, offering a glimpse into the gruesome and bloodthirsty practices that were once revered in antiquity. The tormented physical form, left lifeless after enduring protracted agonies, underwent a profound transformation, transitioning into a soul. And from there, their path led straight to this forsaken cell. A dwelling of dread, where pain reigned supreme, and the air itself seemed soaked in the essence of suffering; every footfall left behind an unhealed wound. The soul, upon entering this malevolent abode, embarked upon a fresh cycle of torment—this time in the guise of spiritual agony—exquisite, sophisticated, and seemingly ceaseless.

Whenever the soul teetered on the precipice of collapse, the cell would dole out a fraction of its energy, enough to sustain the prisoner's existence, yet never enough to offer respite. It kept them perpetually suspended in a state of agonizing vitality. For these souls, sensations were heightened to an alarming degree; even the faintest breeze could carry the weight of their anguish. Stripped of corporeal form, bereft of the thin veneer of protection, their ethereal selves bore the scars of bitter memories, the lashings, and a searing heat that could liquefy stone. In this realm, souls were left with naught but supplications for release—an end that might never come, for did the cell possess the faculty of feeling? Only destiny, unswerving in its purpose, persisted amidst the cries of the countless souls that had passed through.

For this construct, masterminded by devils themselves, harbored no imperfections when it came to the art of torture.