He didn't panic. Instead, Morse remained calm and analyzed the situation.
Although unfamiliar with the area, his years of experience told him that the most important thing was to quickly find a path to escape the pursuit.
The presence of the evil spirits was getting closer.
He knew time was running short as the unsettling whispers of the evil spirits grew nearer.
Morse scanned his surroundings and finally noticed a narrow crack in the wall to his left, faintly audible with the sound of flowing water.
He quickly assessed that this might be a passage to another exit.
Evil spirits were not adept at navigating tight spaces, which could buy him some precious time.
Without hesitation, he dashed toward the crack and swiftly maneuvered his body through it.
The space inside the crack was tight; Morse had to crouch low, his hands pressed against the slippery stone walls, carefully controlling each movement.
Although the demons had picked up his scent, their large numbers made their movement through the narrow crack extremely slow.
Using his knowledge of the terrain and quick reflexes, Morse maneuvered through the crack while the demons were left behind.
After passing through, Morse emerged into a slightly more spacious area, where the foul-smelling sewage flowed slowly beneath him.
It was clear that this was an area abandoned for years, with walls covered in thick moss and the air filled with the stench of decay.
Morse did not stop.
He knew the demons would soon find another way to reach him.
He quickly surveyed the area, searching for the next exit.
At that moment, he spotted a dilapidated stone column ahead.
The wall next to the column was cracked, clearly weakened from years of erosion.
Morse assessed the situation and realized that this was a terrain he could use to his advantage. He dashed to the stone column and pushed forcefully against the crack.
The stone column emitted a deep, groaning creak before violently swaying.
The whispers of the evil spirits grew louder behind him, their presence closing in.
Morse redoubled his effort, and with a thunderous crash, the stone column toppled over, completely blocking the passage.
The scent of the evil spirits was abruptly cut off by the collapse, halting their pursuit momentarily.
Morse took a deep breath and quickly turned to continue down the passage.
He knew the stone column was only a temporary obstacle; the evil spirits would find a way around it eventually. But for now, he had gained some crucial time.
As he proceeded, the passage became even narrower, and the surroundings grew more desolate.
The area appeared long abandoned, with debris blocking the flow of water, and the air was filled with the stench of decay and dampness.
The ground was increasingly covered with broken bones and sludge.
Morse carefully stepped over the bones to avoid making excessive noise.
Each step was accompanied by a slight creaking sound, as if the decayed bones were emitting their final cries of anguish.
He kept his gaze fixed ahead, searching for any possible exit.
Finally, he caught a faintly unusual sound of rushing water.
The water ahead was noticeably more turbulent than the previous sludge, and Morse deduced that it might be an underground current leading to the outside.
He approached the edge of the current, testing the water depth with his foot.
The flow was fast, but the depth was manageable.
Morse quickly analyzed the situation and decided that this current might lead him out of this foul place.
Without further hesitation, he jumped into the water.
The icy water instantly swept him away, and Morse fought to control his body, trying not to lose balance against the powerful current.
The current propelled him swiftly forward, and the passage around him gradually widened. A faint light began to appear ahead in the darkness.
A glimmer of hope ignited in Morse's heart; it could be the way out.
He swam with all his might, moving towards the light.
However, as he finally approached the light source, the sight before him sent a chill down his spine.
The light came from a broken lantern, casting a feeble glow over a scene that was truly horrifying.
The floor was littered with bodies in disarray, each wearing a white robe.
These were Moonlight Cultists. How did they end up here?
Morse stared in astonishment at the heap of corpses before him.
They had once been devoted followers of the Moonlight Cult, and now they lay as cold, lifeless bodies in this dark place.
The blood had long since dried, but a rancid, pungent stench still permeated the air, filled with the odor of death and decay.
Morse crouched down, examining the bodies closely.
Each corpse bore signs of a brutal demise. Many were torn in half, their intestines scattered across the floor.
Blood had pooled and formed a small river on the ground.
The wounds on the corpses varied in form—some appeared to have been slashed by sharp weapons, while others seemed to have been torn apart by beasts.
The edges of the wounds still showed the marks of sharp teeth, indicating the victims had suffered greatly before death.
Morse suppressed his discomfort and forced himself to stay calm.
He began to meticulously analyze every detail of the scene.
The sheer number of bodies far exceeded what would be expected from a typical battle, suggesting a large-scale massacre had occurred here.
What troubled Moss further was that the bodies' equipment had largely been left behind, indicating that the killings were not driven by material gain.
This led him to suspect that there might be a deeper conspiracy behind the massacre.
Morse's gaze shifted from the bodies to the surroundings, which still exuded a strong sense of unease.
As he pondered, a heavy, rhythmic thudding sound approached from afar, interrupting his thoughts.
The sound was deep and powerful, as if some colossal being was drawing near.
Morse quickly lifted his head, scanning the pile of bodies. At the end of the passage ahead, a massive figure was slowly approaching.
It was a monster constructed from rotting corpses, its immense form resembling a moving mountain of death.
Its limbs were thick and sturdy, and its steps were slow yet imposing. Its eyes burned with a fiery red glow.
With each step, the ground trembled, as if the presence of this demon was pressing upon the entire space.
Morse immediately realized that this demon was likely the culprit behind the deaths of the Moonlight Cultists.
Though its pace was slow, it radiated a sense of menace and power.
Morse did not act recklessly; instead, he meticulously examined every detail of the evil spirit, searching for its weaknesses.
Though the demon's body was enormous, its movements were sluggish, especially in the narrow environment where its size became a disadvantage.
Morse quickly removed the glove from his left hand.
The blood-red palm was marked with sharp, claw-like nails, resembling beastly talons capable of shredding anything.
The huge evil spirit, sensing a living being, charged directly at Morse.
Morse leaped to the right, narrowly avoiding the huge evil spirit's charge.
But in the next moment, a dark, cocoon-like structure formed at the center of the area, accompanied by a fierce gust of wind.
As the wind subsided, Morse found himself inside a cocoon made from human flesh.
Before him was the same huge evil spirit.
At that moment, its body was continuing to grow larger, and the blood underfoot bubbled ominously.
Looking closer, Morse saw that the huge evil spirit now wielded a weapon fashioned from human corpses, covered in corpse stains and wriggling worms.
Realizing he could no longer conceal his intentions, Moss tore away the fabric covering his left arm.
It revealed a scarlet arm shackled by chains, appearing as though it was part of the huge evil spirit itself.
The veins and muscles on the arm throbbed and pulsated, as if they might explode at any moment.
Morse immediately assumed a combat stance, ready to engage in battle.
It was time to fight!