Chapter 1177 - 87: Launching a Raid Against Rose!

Chapter 1177: Chapter 87: Launching a Raid Against Rose!

The 66th layer of the Bottomless Abyss, the Deep Pit of the Weave.

One of Rose’s pleasure palaces crouched in the twisted fissures deep within the Weave Pit; "crouched" was the only fitting word, for it resembled a gigantic black widow woven from Obsidian and living spider-silk.

The palace’s spiked colonnades were like a spider’s articulated limbs, waterfalls of venom pouring from eaves shaped like fangs, while the central Divine Hall’s dome was a constantly squirming abyssal web; every strand was coiled with corroded arcane Runes and screaming souls.

As one of the major "silk" tycoons of this entire realm, and one of the few suppliers of top-tier ice-silk, Duncan had nothing but praise for the ice-silk stockings crafted by the Spider Queen’s followers.

Originally they were meant to enhance spider-walking techniques, providing extra protection while remaining light and flexible, but since the stockings felt so exquisite to the touch, they naturally found other uses.

This place was actually terrifying.

But after Duncan arrived, he could only comment blandly that Spider Queen Rose’s aesthetic taste was fairly mediocre, not even half as good as the luxurious Silver Palace of the Dark Monarch Glazest; at least those sixty-six Ivory Towers truly had a sense of style.

Besides, the pleasures of the Silver Palace were not something ordinary people could comprehend.

One Obsidian spire after another thrust toward the void in slender elven curves, their surfaces etched with intricate spiderweb crests; every pattern seeped a ghostly green gleam, like liquefied emerald dripping down the walls as venom.

A gigantic onyx archway bore a curtain of living flesh—woven from sacrificed High Elves; their skin was stretched into a translucent veil, Magic Runes flickering upon it like desperate heartbeats.

The elven Pantheon was indeed formidable.

But those surface Elves who were captured by the Dark Elf and sacrificed to Rose had their souls sent straight into the Bottomless Abyss; most of the elven Pantheon could scarcely drag them back out.

——Rose’s Priest (Purgatory Zor Elf) (five-star silver-gray).

——Wax-Melt Fiend (three-star to five-star).

——Spider-Form Elf Ranger (Purgatory variant) (five-star Whiteboard).

The entire way was lined with all manner of monsters.

There were also several flamboyantly alluring Zor Elf Priestess, most of them members of powerful clans on the primary Material Plane, at least of eldest-daughter rank, or perhaps matriarchs of smaller houses, who offered themselves to Rose in exchange for the Spider Queen’s favor upon their families.

Of course, these people were far inferior to the Ikrifda kneeling before Duncan; in fact, when Ikrifda served him on her knees, those beautiful, cruel, devious Zor Priest could only lie prone off to the side.

"Ahead is the Divine Queen’s bedchamber." Ikrifda said cautiously.

She could still relax a little in Zerata’s Silver Palace, but once she returned to the Weave Pit, even a High Priest like her had to be tense and careful.

In Zor society, a moment’s carelessness could cost you your life, perhaps even at the hands of your own daughter.

The palace’s central courtyard was a reversed crystal spider garden; beneath elven-style perforated galleries, hundreds of Zor slaves hung from spider-silk in midair, slowly rotating to an inaudible melody, like a brutal ballet.

Spider Queen Rose held absolute dominion over the Zor Elf—life and death at a whim, slaughter and torture however she pleased.

——Attendant of Eilistraee (four-star gold).

Duncan’s gaze fell upon a beautiful young Zor Elf with long, silver-white hair; she was entirely naked, displaying graceful curves, her skin as fine and lustrous as black jade. Her long legs were suspended upside-down by spider-silk in the courtyard, a ferocious spider silhouette traced around her hips, the whole figure radiating a strange aesthetic—fallen, wicked, and cruel.

When Duncan passed by, he saw this Moonlight Priestess’s spine; it had been transformed into silver harp strings, and whenever someone walked by, it played a twisted requiem concerto.

What kind of depraved, lust-warped aesthetic was this?

Everyone said Spider Queen Rose had heavy tastes; it now seemed that "heavy" was putting it mildly.

"Does Lord Julian fancy her?" Ikrifda seemed to notice the shift in Duncan’s expression.

She showed a faintly cruel smile, speaking softly with an affected elegance: "This is one of the Divine Queen’s favorite pieces."

"A gift from Spider Nest City to the Divine Queen."

An Eilistraee Moonlight Priestess.

She had been cruelly made into a set of living strings, hung upside-down in the Spider Queen’s crystal spider garden, and in a certain sense she was still "alive," though no longer capable of movement; spider venom had saturated her blood.

She would be tormented for a long time, until one day she finally dried out completely, after which the Spider Queen’s Priest would turn her into something else.

"Mm."

"Quite tasteful." Duncan’s demonic incarnation nodded lightly, as if completely devoid of emotion.

The inverted Moonlight Priestess, meanwhile, stared with hollow eyes at the colossus before her—a tremendously powerful Demon Lord, who could likely obliterate a city on the primary Material Plane with ease. In her gaze there was only the despairing wish for death.

The kind of annihilation where even soul and spirit are scattered.

At the side, Ikrifda quietly took note: Duncan’s demonic incarnation rarely displayed desire; there were exceedingly few things that interested him.

This Moonlight Priestess—or rather, this Moonlight Maiden’s Weeping Strings—had managed to catch Lord Julian’s interest, which meant He too appreciated certain cruel, even sadistic works of art.

If possible.

Ikrifda meant that, should this Demon Lord and Spider Queen Rose converse pleasantly in the immediate future, perhaps this girl could be given to him; after all, falling into a demon’s hands—especially those of the degenerate Silver Palace—would hardly be any better than death.