Who Designed This Underworld Dungeon?

The warriors who witnessed all this had their visions dyed a fiery red, and for a moment, each of them forgot to breathe.

The air was so scorching that inhaling a breath could cause burns; the engulfing range of the fiery storm was still expanding—one hundred meters, two hundred meters, three hundred meters...

The warriors had no choice but to continue retreating outward, not knowing how far this move’s coverage could expand.

Just as they retreated beyond eight hundred meters, the grand fiery storm abruptly halted and vanished.

It vanished completely, with only the residual high temperature in the air indicating it had appeared.

"Such formidable power..."

"The range and power might not match the typical concept of a Forbidden Spell, but how can a Forbidden Spell be cast this quickly?"

"This is not the limit yet; the power of this move can be further enhanced—it must be magic of a Forbidden Spell level!"

The power of this fiery storm indeed could be raised further, but Temude had already collapsed on the ground, unable to rise due to magic power exhaustion.

If the magic power were sufficient, the power and range of the fiery storm could continuously increase, theoretically burning the world as described!

This move is truly suitable for someone with an enormous reservoir of magic power to execute; Temude’s magic power reserve was somewhat lacking.

But even so, the power just now already brushed against the edge of a Forbidden Spell, and calling it a Pseudo-Banned Spell wouldn’t be excessive.

"Ha, hahaha..."

Temude, lying on the ground exhausted, laughed for a moment with a bright and sunny demeanor.

Now, he too had a trump card up his sleeve; when encountering a powerful monster, he could explode with this move and no longer needed to owe the Magician Association a favor for a Forbidden Curse Scroll!

Feels great!

"Pull me up, I can still walk..."

Temude decided to make today’s surprises a bit more, even though his body was now as weak as a ragdoll, he still wanted to continue circling around the dungeon.

Next up was to visit the giant blacksmith of Yanor Londo to see what kind of surprise the remnants of the Chaos Breeding Ground could bring them!

During the time Temude and his group were adventuring in the Sain Dungeon,

outside Sain Dungeon in Hepa Town, a different story was unfolding.

Hepa Town, the tavern for adventurers, was always crowded with patrons, and every casually told story could become prime material for the bards— enveloping the entire tavern in a lively atmosphere.

The most popular topic in the tavern was naturally related to the nearby Sain Dungeon, and the most talked-about figure recently was, of course—

"What will Solar do after he’s come back to life?" a drunk adventurer asked.

"I don’t know; it’s just good that he’s alive," his companion replied.

"But isn’t he just like being parasitized by a Sun Worm, without any fighting spirit?"

"Don’t say that."

"Poor Luluwo, seems like only their Solar died."

"Please stop, I can’t hold my laughter, puff, hehe..."

Such discussions were everywhere.

If Luluwo came to take a look, they might turn red hot and invade everyone present with indignation.

In the current understanding among adventurers, it was a good thing that Solar managed to survive through sheer ingenuity.

But what of him after surviving? He looked almost like a man in despair after losing his faith and battle will—practically on the verge of becoming an animated corpse. Even if he survives, he probably won’t accomplish anything great again.

At this thought, the adventurers felt a mix of emotions.

The Starfire Church was also troubled by this issue. Though they managed to pacify some restless believers with Solar’s survival, a deeper examination of his future might reveal it’s unlikely to be promising, posing another problem for the Church.

Starfire Church was more hopeful than anyone that Solar could live well after surviving.

Thankfully, not many people had thought deeply about it yet, or it would be quite troublesome.

"Hmm?"

At that moment, a young man in the tavern, whose skin appeared more tender compared to the adventurers, and whose clothing was cleaner, raised his head, pretending to be deeply engrossed in his drink while keenly listening to everyone’s conversations, with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

As he listened, he suddenly sighed, visibly sank into a state of melancholy.

"The organization hasn’t contacted me for a whole month..."

The man was plunged into a grey despair, appearing out of place amidst the surrounding joviality.

He was a spy from the Holy Light Church.

Uncommonly, he had not been exposed and continued to lurk in Hepa Town.

Regarding why he hadn’t been caught, the man, though reluctant to admit it, thought it was probably because he was too lackluster to stand out.

Among the spies trained at the same time, he was basically the worst, probably dispatched to Hepa Town to act as cannon fodder and cover for other spies. Two months in, he had done absolutely nothing noteworthy, an utterly worthless presence.

As a result, this unaccomplished spy inadvertently became the Holy Light Church’s sole informant in Hepa Town.

Probably because of doing nothing significant, the rebel army hadn’t discovered him yet?

Being relegated to cannon fodder was disheartening enough; even more recently depressing was the Holy Light Church’s lack of contact for almost a month.

Over the past month, he tried to shine by gathering somewhat useful, somewhat trivial intelligence to send to the Holy Light Church, hoping to remind them of his existence.

Initially, there were occasional replies from the Holy Light Church, but since last month, even those had disappeared.

Even precious intelligence obtained at the risk of life received no response whatsoever!

It was like the Holy Light Church across the way had turned into a dead body of water with no response.

Such a situation left the man completely baffled, plunging him into despair, making him feel abandoned by the Church, or becoming what’s known as a "discarded pawn."

Thus, he sank into a long period of apathy, letting dejection entangle him tightly.

Until recently, he finally had a realization.

"Anyway, I have no goal for living, so why not use my last strength for the great Holy Light God?"

With that thought, he finally escaped the mire of despondency.

But, how could he serve the Holy Light God?

Continue sending intelligence to the Holy Light Church? No, he was no longer sure of his superiors’ situation, and the Church’s silence was highly abnormal. Excluding the possibility that he was cast aside, there might be problems at the Church?

Sending intelligence would no longer make a difference; perhaps he could shift his focus to sabotage activities against the rebel army?

The man had been pondering for several days, thinking about what sabotage activities he was capable of, yet felt unable to achieve anything significant.

But now, he suddenly had an idea.

"Then why not try to stir things up with the Solar issue?"

Though his overall performance in organizational training was mediocre, he did have somewhat exceptional talent in publicity efforts.

"If I can induce some internal chaos in the rebel army over this matter, my life would have some worth."

He gazed toward the sky outside the tavern, and sighed:

"Long live the Holy Light God."

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