CHAPTER 310: LOVE HELL - DORIAN’S PART (15)

Hermes lit the small torch in his hand and took the lead into the narrow room. The moment the three of them saw the scene inside, they all couldn’t help but hold their breath at once.

The room was made up entirely of countless human skulls. Countless dark, hollow eyes stared in their direction, filling the entire space— even the ceiling was no exception.

The chamber itself was extremely cramped. In fact, calling it a "room" was generous— it was more like a narrow passageway. From where they stood, a long stairway stretched downward into the depths below, and the faint light of Hermes’ torch was far from enough to illuminate the path ahead.

"Let’s go."

Hermes spoke softly and stepped first onto the stairs leading down.

The passageway was narrow, the steps steep— it felt like a single misstep could send them straight into hell.

Just as that thought crossed Fiona’s mind, she suddenly felt a firm shove against her back!

She twisted around but saw no one behind her. Before she could react, her body was already tilting backward— if she fell, she’d drag Nyx and Hermes down.

Fiona’s lips curved coldly. Whatever that thing was, it clearly underestimated her!

She raised her hand, grabbing for the railing to steady herself.

But what came next was even more horrifying— the railing vanished!

"Not done yet, huh?!"

Fiona roared, and a sword appeared in her hand. She drove it straight into the stairs to anchor herself and regain her balance.

By then, both Nyx and Hermes had turned around. Nyx crossed her arms, smiling as she said, "Fiona, even walking down stairs, you manage to fall. How very ungraceful."

Fiona: "..."

"Is this really the time to talk about grace? You don’t even notice anyone else— you’re clearly just nitpicking me!"

Fiona had just stood upright again when, as if to prove her words, the steps beneath them suddenly folded in unison, transforming into a long, smooth slide that shot straight down!

In the next instant, all three of them vanished from sight, their descent so fast that only faint afterimages remained— and the small torch in Hermes’ hand was snuffed out in the process.

Darkness engulfed them. The space ahead seemed endless, and they had nothing left to hold on to.

"Clang!" Fiona’s sword pierced the steps beneath, the friction slowing their fall. Instinctively, she grabbed Nyx, who caught hold of Hermes.

Boom!

The sword was dragged downward despite her efforts, the harsh sound of metal scraping against stone echoing nonstop.

Fiona nearly shouted in frustration, "Can you people take this a little more seriously?!"

By now, the torch had reignited, and Hermes glanced downward. It was still pitch-black below, as though no end was in sight.

But they had no choice but to keep going...

"Fiona, is your sword anchored firmly?" Hermes asked.

They were no longer sliding but suspended midair.

Fiona snorted. "Of course. Otherwise, the two of you would’ve been dead already."

"Then let go," Hermes said calmly.

"Huh?" Fiona asked instinctively, frowning a moment later. "You’d better actually have a plan."

With that, she didn’t hesitate—she released her grip. At the same time, faint threads of energy materialized into tangible strands, wrapping around the sword hilt still embedded in the wall.

Now it was Hermes who bore their combined weight as gravity pulled them down again—falling, falling endlessly, to the point of absurdity.

"How deep can this damned place even be..." Fiona muttered before her body jerked violently, inertia yanking her upward slightly, followed by the crack of bones straining under tension.

Despite it all, she managed a crooked grin and looked at Nyx. "What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re about to be torn in half?"

Nyx’s expression turned cold—she promptly threw Fiona to the ground. Even though they were close to landing, there was still a bit of distance left, and Fiona’s sudden drop made her crash painfully.

"What’s with the temper?! I was just being considerate!" Fiona shouted.

Nyx ignored her, landing lightly before turning toward Hermes.

By now, the small torch had flared to life once more. The place they had arrived at resembled a vast pit dug deep beneath the castle.

Before them stretched countless passageways branching in every direction—yet they had no idea which one Mr. Andersen had taken.

Fiona ruffled her hair, and with a sharp whistling sound, her sword flew back into her hand. "I knew it wouldn’t be that simple!"

"What should we do next, President?" Nyx asked Hermes.

Hermes adjusted his glasses slightly and replied in a calm voice, "No need to rush."

Then he glanced at Fiona, who pressed her lips together in silence.

What was wrong with these two? Was showing a little emotion really that forbidden?

At that moment, Hermes began to act. Thin threads extended from his fingertips—so delicate they were nearly invisible—as they spread out into the seven passageways surrounding them.

Hermes then closed his eyes, seemingly linking his senses with those threads.

Fiona whistled softly and gave a thumbs-up. "Didn’t know you could use that ability like this. Pretty impressive."

Nyx gave her a sidelong glance but said nothing.

Meanwhile, back in the mansion, Alice and the others keeping watch in the grand hall below finally sensed movement.

The time had come. Mrs. Andersen began crawling down from the third floor, moving from door to door, knocking on one after another.

This time, the knocking lasted longer than before—each thud heavier, filled with anguish and resentment. Even the sound alone made one’s eardrums throb in discomfort.

Liam instinctively trembled.

The air around him grew colder by the second, and the ground beneath his feet seemed to ripple faintly, echoing his unease.

A gentle female voice suddenly spoke up: "Dear guest, are you all right? Do you need my assistance?"

Liam lifted his head in confusion—and there, less than two meters away, stood a maid. She smiled kindly, her expression seemingly full of care. But it couldn’t hide the horrifying truth—her eyes were hollow sockets, and her smile looked pasted onto her face. Though her lips curled upward, not a single facial muscle moved.

Liam shuddered violently. In his ears, he seemed to hear Mr. Andersen’s warning echoing once more:

There are no servants in the mansion. There are no servants in the mansion!

Liam’s eyes turned bloodshot. In one decisive motion, he raised both hands, and sharp spikes erupted from the floor, shooting straight toward the maid!

Crash! Crack! Crack!

The sounds of shattering furniture and the ground splitting echoed through the mansion, drawing the attention of Mrs. Andersen, who was raging on the second floor.

Her body twisted grotesquely, arms and legs moving in a disturbing, insect-like rhythm. Like a giant centipede, she slithered along the railing, her lower body coiling around it as she hung down, glaring at the humans below.

But Liam seemed oblivious. He was utterly consumed by fury, relentlessly attacking the servants that shouldn’t exist here.

Liam! Liam!

The maid suddenly spoke, calling his name again and again. A sharp pain stabbed through his head, and with a furious growl, he shouted, "Shut up—die!"

As his words fell, the ground beneath the maid quaked violently, then caved in completely—collapsing into a deep, bottomless pit!