Charles halted the purification process, but didn't pull his blade from her body. He stared her down, cold and wary, his mind racing through a thousand possibilities.
Let her go? Impossible. She was a powerful fallen angel, and opportunities like the Night of the Witches came just once. If he let her escape, the consequences would haunt the world forever.
Kill her? Also out of the question. Just severely injuring her and beginning to purify her power had plunged Malena and the Dark Angels into unbearable agony. If he killed Sulpharlo outright, the consequences would be disastrous—unfathomable.
That left only one option: imprisonment.
But how could you safely imprison a powerful fallen angel?
Construct a monastery right here and build a dungeon? Not reliable. Monastery branch locations could only sustain a Tier 1 dungeon; even if he upgraded it to Tier 3, it would require over ten thousand Purification Points—far too costly…
Besides, they were still in the Underdark, and the Dark Elves already knew about this place. Even if he spent a fortune, they'd face endless harassment from now on…
That only left the one option he'd kept in reserve.
Ruling out all other possibilities, a plan formed in Charles's mind.
He took a deep breath and commanded Xanathar, "Xanathar, open the gateway to our world."
"We're locking Sulpharlo away inside!"
The mini-beholder on his shoulder understood, and began a deep, resonant incantation. In midair, a swirling black hole expanded, opening a portal to a pocket dimension.
Charles bent down, grabbed Sulpharlo by the shoulder—still pinning her body on Montport's sword—and lifted off, the two of them flying together into the portal as it closed behind them, sealing the way forever.
Sulpharlo's brow furrowed. After passing through a long, dark tunnel, she found herself in a world of unbroken white.
Yes, utterly pure white—no shadows, no color, no material, and not a trace of energy.
She reached out with her senses, but only anxiety answered. There was nothing here: not the faintest magic power, not even a breath of air!
Any mortal creature would suffocate here within minutes; even for her, a powerful Dark Angel, mere survival would require all her might, leaving her unable to act at all.
She probably couldn't even cast spells, let alone mend her wounds, heal herself, or prepare a comeback.
"What is this place?" Her voice was raw and weak. "Your own world? Hah, what a shabby creation."
Charles glared at her, indifferent. "It's your prison, Sulpharlo."
"Until the girls you cloned find redemption, you'll stay right here, reflecting on your sins."
With that, he drew his blades out of Sulpharlo's abdomen, blood pouring gold onto the empty white. Sulpharlo grunted in pain, but kept up her sneer: "We'll see about that."
Charles shot her one last icy look, unwilling to waste time arguing. He turned to the mini-beholder, who began another incantation, opening a portal back to the material world. Charles vanished, leaving Sulpharlo in an almost empty dimension.
Sulpharlo's mocking mask fell only after he left. With a twisted face, she gripped her chest with one hand and her abdomen with the other, pain wracking her features.
The dagger's venom and the sword wound were both unbearable.
No, at this rate, I'll die anyway!
She had to find a way—any way—to slowly repair herself…
With the last scraps of her divine power, she quietly murmured an incantation, guiding it to clear the poison from her body and close her wounds.
But that also meant her last strength was spent. If she wanted to escape, she'd have to scheme anew…
While Sulpharlo licked her wounds alone in the magic-dead pocket world, Charles returned to the material plane.
The moment he arrived, he found that the chorus of moans had stopped. The Malena clones stood scattered across the floor, weak, looking at him with a mix of fear and suspicion.
He ignored their feelings. All that mattered was Malena. With a beat of his wings, he rushed over. "Malena!"
Malena had recovered, and tears of joy streamed down her face as Charles approached. "Charles!"
She opened her arms, and he landed before her and pulled her gently into his embrace. "Thank god you're safe!"
Leaning against his shoulder, Malena wept quietly, her mind empty of everything but gratitude and peace. She knew, truly, Charles would always be her home; all her former boundaries and shame fell away, leaving only a heart that beat for him.
"Charles…" she whispered, longing and sincerity spilling from her lips, "From now on… let me take your last name, okay?"
"Let Lisa take your last name too. The three of us, always yours, forever…"
Charles eased his grip, surprised by her words. Her eyes were red from crying, but shone with a determined, heartfelt glimmer.
His heart trembled, but seeing her resolve, he nodded gently. "If that's your wish, then that's my answer."
Malena smiled softly. He glanced at her rounded belly, remembering her earlier pain; then he swept his gaze across all the wary, almost naked Malena duplicates, and the lone one who stood calmly in a black bra—curious but unafraid.
He had so many questions, so much to say. But now wasn't the time.
Out there, Hattie and the others were still locked in battle with the Dark Elves—he had to help!
Despite his trembling exhaustion, Charles brushed her lips with a light kiss. "Theresa and Hattie are still fighting—I have to help them now."
He glanced at the Dark Angel nearby. "She listens to you? Stay safe. When it's all clear, I'll come back for you."
Malena instantly turned serious, nodding. Then she remembered something else, "Wait, there's danger here too! A Dark Elf snuck in while you were gone."
"She's gone after Sulpharlo's research notes—there's valuable stuff in those! Charles, anything from here must never fall into Dark Elf hands!"
A chill crept into his eyes as he scanned the lab, voice cold as steel. "Understood. I'll find her first—then reinforce Hattie!"
As he spoke, a familiar voice piped up from behind scattered instruments: "No need. That Dark Elf she mentioned—actually, that's me."
Charles spun as a familiar, sheepish figure scratched her head, coming out with a crooked grin. "It's me, Mr. Charles. No worries, you can go help Miss Hattie now!"
It was none other than the Dark Elf mage girl, Hanni, he'd picked up on the journey.
Charles frowned. "Hanni? Why are you here? Didn't I tell you to support Hattie and the others?"
His tone sharpened, but Hanni quickly raised both hands in surrender. "I did! Really! I spent every last spell slot giving them Longstrider and False Life!"
"I just… ran out of spells, so I hid and ended up here… and ran into Malena, that's all—"
She whimpered, voice full of self-pity: "Malena sis, back me up here, would you?"
"If I hadn't slipped you that Purple Worm venom dagger, you'd never have managed to backstab Sulpharlo! I'm on your side!"
Malena blinked, then nodded, a little dazed, "That's true. But… didn't you say you were Hanni Baenre…"
Hanni ignored her, grinning slyly at Charles. "See, Priest? I'm your secret weapon!"
Charles didn't dwell on when she'd gotten the dagger—instead, he turned back to Malena and the Dark Angel. "Keep an eye on her. Don't let her mess with anything—this place isn't safe."
"I'm off to help Hattie and the others. I'll be back soon!"
With that, he spread his wings and soared over the scantly clad Malenas, streaking toward the battle beyond.
Meanwhile, outside Sulpharlo's laboratory—
The nuns had fallen into dire straits against the relentless Dark Elves. Their enemies were deadly quick and their weapons lethal, making every slip a possible mortal wound.
Despite their counteroffensives, every one of them was accruing new wounds.
Venom seeped in—Nymeria, Shapiro, Willo, and Adele all felt their bodies growing heavy and numb. Their tongues seemed to twist, minds slowing—their spellcasting and their very movements growing sluggish.
"Aaagh—!"
A Dark Elf darted past Adele, his blade scoring only a shallow cut on her sleeve, yet the poison took hold within seconds, numbing her arm until she could barely feel it.
"No—I don't want to die!"
Terror filled Adele's eyes—she could see exactly what was coming: with her arm paralyzed, she'd never be able to form spell gestures, never cast spells again. Next time that dagger struck, it could carve open her throat and end her life.
Dread gripped her like an iron vice.
Hattie saw it all, her brows drawn tight. She understood: Charles was locked in an even more crucial battle that must not be disturbed.
If she couldn't hold this line, if just one Dark Elf slipped past to the lab, it could doom them all!
None could be allowed through!
Summoning every scrap of power, she vowed: Even if I drain myself, I'll hold this front for Charles!
"This… still isn't my limit!"
She muttered, raising her arms. Dense black mist gushed from beneath her nun's habit, spreading out, expanding, thickening, crawling across the cave floor.
Ten meters… twenty… thirty… the black mist swelled to cover a hundred meters, finally stopping as it nearly filled the cavern.
And as the mist coalesced, thick ink-green tentacles sprouted from the ground. Each was as wide as a barrel, towering five or six meters high, easily reaching the cave ceiling—soon filling every inch of space!
Sure, Dark Elves were agile. But if there's no space left to dodge—
What then?
"Huff—!"
Hattie's eyes reddened as she glared at every shadow. Controlling such an area—with thousands of massive tentacles—was a brutal strain, but she refused to quit.
Even with a bottomless well of magic power, her body itself was nearing its limit. The energy hurt, her brain throbbed, but she clung to consciousness and grit her teeth—she would hold this line for Charles!
"Everyone, hang on! Pinpoint their positions—don't let them through!"
She shouted out, while at her back Adele crouched behind a tentacle, laboring to cast neutralizing spells on her poisoned wound as she watched Hattie.
The black mist, the powerful tentacles—they were evil powers in nearly every tale.
But for Adele, in that moment, they felt like salvation—keeping death at bay, offering an unexpected sense of security.
At the same time, with the help of these thousand tentacles, Nymeria and Shapiro could move freely, while the Dark Elves were forced to devote all their energy just to dodging them.
Despite relentless efforts, the Dark Elves still couldn't break through the barricade. Finally, they pulled back, keeping a wary distance.
They were waiting. As a race born able to cast spells, the Dark Elves understood better than anyone: a battlefield-wide spell like this had to be at least sixth level.
From their observations, this woman couldn't possibly maintain something of that scale for long—she was bound to reach her limit soon!
And the moment she faltered, they'd make their move—slaughtering the survivors in one final onslaught.
Hattie knew this too. But she believed with all her heart: her master, Charles, would prevail and lead them all to victory.
That faith kept her standing, even as her consciousness blurred, her body swelling and aching, her legs beginning to buckle. Still, she forced herself to maintain the massive spell ring—a barrier holding the Dark Elves at bay.
Finally, just as she was about to collapse, a ray of sunlight shone from the distance.
Theresa had arrived.
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