Agatha cradled the small flame in her hands and took another step, heading deeper into the second waterway.
In fact, she had lost all sense of time and even her perception of her surroundings became hazy. She could no longer clearly remember how long she had trudged through this damp and cold place, how many monsters she had dispatched, or how many wounds she had acquired in the process—there was a time when she even forgot her own name and why she was in this sewer.
But when the green flame leapt in her palm, she always found her reason again and held onto that one ultimate mission firmly—
Bring the flame, deliver it into the lairs of the heretics.
A chill wind blew from the dark corridor ahead, seemingly carrying layers of muttering and snarling. Agatha's body swayed slightly, and sensing the presence of evil in the wind, she carefully hid the flame in the tattered inner layers of her black garments.