He waited in the air for a few more moments, hoping the women would use their throwing weapons but nothing came.

He opened and closed the hand that was stabbed, (Once again, annoyingly enough. It healed in the initial transformation and she just had to go and stab the same hand again.) before letting himself fall to the ground. He warily kept an eye on his surroundings as he slowly followed both women. He turned his chain weapon into a more manageable-sized scythe and walked towards the darkness, ready for more.

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He had finally reached the last floor of the dungeon and the moment he stepped inside, he was convinced he was going to die. It had demons on the walls everywhere. He couldn't ignore them either or say something like “Maybe their just how people represented themselves back then.” They had tails, horns and wings, the whole package.

(“There are more of them aren't there?”)

Kevin thought as he leaned against a nearby wall. He had nothing left. None of those strange rocks, and no boxes were on this floor, so he was pretty sure he couldn't even snack on something to try and regain his strength plus he had the makeshift gauze ripped off his back.

If he had to fight one more enemy, hell even run away from them, he was sure he'd be finished.

His eyes continued to point him forward and his legs started moving, as much as his brain resisted.

“I'm gonna die. Sigh, can't I get to tell my grandpa goodbye?”

As he walked down the path his eyes led, he noticed multiple footsteps formed in some white dust that was scattered around the place. Most bare footed but some were made by shoes.

He kept walking. There was no other option. He could examine them if he liked but that wouldn't change the path he had to take. And for ease of mind, the fewer enemies he believed he had the better.

He noticed some skeletons on the floor and wondered how many had made the trek down here and suffered for it eternally.

He started to form tears in his eyes. They weren't from sadness or regret but rather pain. Without the blue stone's powder covering his back, in addition to being exposed to the open air, it stung. It was like he had lemon juice constantly being poured on his back. The tears were the only way to relieve his pain, as depressing as that sounded.

His eyes would make sure to lead him on a safe path, (Though after the previous floors, he doubted this greatly.) which is why he paid no attention to anything other than his path while walking. Not to the throne room he walked by and not to the direction the demons pointed.

He tensed up. He saw light down in the darkness of the dungeon. What did it mean? Were their other cultists gathered here? Demons? And why did his eyes point him here!?

The answer to all his questions would be answered if he continued. And with nothing more than blind faith, he continued forward and…

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Was he dreaming? No, that couldn't be right. He knew the pain he was feeling was very real.

Then was this hell? Had he already died and become the devil's plaything? He refused to acknowledge he walked all the way down here and this was the sight that greeted him.

The sight his eyes showed him was four people.

Two of them were similar looking to the brutal demons he encountered earlier. Well, one was brutal, the other just seemed indifferent. Still, that was no reason to exercise caution.

They laid to the side of a shirtless... Was he a greater demon? The third woman covered his face. She looked surprisingly human but considering what he met down here, he treated her as something on the same level as the pale women. Her hair barely went past her ears and she wore a… he didn't know why but he felt she looked quite perverted. Like catching someone looking through a spy hole to a woman's shower hole as they think no one is watching them.

(“Ugh, don't tell me she's some succubus?”)

He wanted to walk away but his eyes told him this was his destination. Perhaps they were good demons?

Who was he kidding, he knew death would come for him sooner than later. At least he could say he tried before he died.

As he approached, the pale women opened their eyes. Their eyes met and Kevin could feel his heart stop.

They looked at each other and in unison, poked the blue-haired woman's butt.

(“W-what kinda stuff were they doing down here anyway?”)

The man was shirtless and the pale women were covered in rags. The blue-haired woman was covered in drab and unremarkable clothing but if she could change her form then clothing wouldn't matter.

He gulped as he awaited her reaction.

“Ow, w-why’d you two do that!?” She asked, with blushed cheeks as she rubbed her rear.

She noticed them looking at something and turned around.

Now, Kevin was looking quite ragged and the mixture of blood in his hair didn't really do him any favours. In short, he looked like he just returned from a massacre.

Agnes turned back to Tibaut and desperately pounded on his chest after noticing.

“TIBAUT WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!!”

She shouted while trying her best to make use of her weak fists.

(“huh?”) Kevin thought as he looked on.

The two pale women continued lying down next to the man, unperturbed by the screaming.

Tibaut jolted up and looked around confused. Agnes quickly got off him and went behind him.

“T-t-tibaut, that guy seem-m-ms like bad news.” She hurriedly said, biting her tongue for a few words.

He kipped up and got a better look at this foe. As he prepared his fireballs…

“Tibaut? Wait a second, that Tibaut!?” Kevin asked, in disbelief.

Tibaut did his best to hide his surprise (poorly) and tried to put on a stern face.

“Yeah it is…How do you know my nam-” Tibaut paused himself and got a better look at this guy. White hair, now who did he know with white hair?

“...No way.”

“It really is you…” Kevin replied with a childlike smile stretching across his face. His eyes quickly faded and he leaned forward.

He fell to the floor and immediately went unconscious.