Chapter 894  Labyrinth of Shadows              

Meanwhile, Pamela managed to slip past the hallway where Ren and the others had gone before Iraelyn could seal it shut with her rampage.

“Those shadows might be dangerous and creepy, but those guys are a whole other level of danger. I’ll be dead if I stick with them!” she murmured to herself as she stealthily pursued Ren and the others.

Pamela’s heart raced as she clutched the strange potion that Whispera had handed to her tightly in her hand.

This potion was the main reason she had went after Ren and the others, determined to deliver it to Azazel as soon as possible.

Navigating through the maze-like corridors, Pamela’s frustration grew with each wrong turn she made.

“Gah. Where on earth is the right path? Where are they?!” she muttered to herself, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

She sprinted down one corridor after another, her footsteps echoing loudly in the empty halls.

But no matter how fast she ran, she seemed to only end up going in circles, her sense of direction failing her in the labyrinthine maze.

Exhausted and out of breath, Pamela finally came to a halt, her chest heaving as she leaned against the cool stone wall, panting heavily.

Sweat glistened on her forehead as she tried to catch her breath, frustration gnawing at her insides.

Taking a moment to compose herself, Pamela glanced down at the potion in her hand, her determination reignited. “I can’t give up now,” she muttered, her voice tinged with determination. “I have to find them, no matter what.”

With renewed resolve, she pushed herself away from the wall and continued her search, determined to locate Azazel and deliver the potion before it was too late.

As Pamela ventured deeper into the labyrinthine corridors, her senses heightened. The air felt thick with tension, each step echoing off the stone walls like a heartbeat in the darkness.

She strained her ears, listening intently for any sign of movement or direction.

And then, like a whisper carried on the wind, she heard it –– faint voices echoing in the distance.

At first, they were barely audible, mere murmurs in the vast emptiness of the halls.

But as Pamela focused her attention, the voices grew clearer, guiding her through the maze with their ethereal whispers.

Whispera. It had to be her.

Pamela’s heart leaped with excitement and relief as she followed the ghostly echoes, each step bringing her closer to her elusive destination.

With each turn she made, the voices grew stronger, leading her ever onward with their gentle embrace.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of wandering, Pamela emerged into a vast hall bathed in dim torchlight.

The flickering flames cast eerie shadows on the stone walls, creating an atmosphere of foreboding that sent shivers down her spine.

But despite the ominous surroundings, Pamela pressed on.

And then, at the far end of the hall, she saw them – Evie, Ren, and the others, lying on the ground, their forms illuminated by the dim torchlight.

Panic surged through Pamela’s veins as she raced towards them, her heart pounding in her chest.

But her relief was short-lived, for standing over them, a menacing figure loomed –– Azazel, battered and bloodied, locked in a fierce battle with Lorelai.

Pamela’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the two clash, their movements fluid and deadly in the dim light.

Azazel fought with a ferocity born of desperation, his muscles straining with every blow as he defended himself against Lorelai’s relentless assault.

But despite his valiant efforts, it was clear that he was outmatched, his strength waning with each passing moment.

“How could she be so powerful?” Elena asked, struggling to rise to her feet.

Ren staggered upright, hastily gulping down a potent HP potion to replenish his dwindling health. “It must be because of her newfound powers.”

Who would have guessed that the fusion of demon and angelic soul could transform her into such a formidable being?

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Nyxos smiled, his fingers tracing the edges of a glass container at his side.

Pamela’s eyes widened as she noticed Lorelai’s shadow trapped within the container.

“As soon as I learn how she gained control over the demons within her, I will ascend to a paragon and reign supreme over the entire Heavenly Realm.

“Now Lorelai, go and kill them,” he ordered.

Pamela’s heart ached with fear and worry as she watched the battle unfold before her eyes. She knew the others needed her help, but she was frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

Should she intervene . . . between that?

She would definitely die for sure if she was caught in the crossfire.

As the battle raged on, Pamela’s mind raced with indecision. But then, as if sensing her hesitation, Whispera’s voice echoed in her ears once more, urging her to act.

Pamela didn’t know what happened next, she stepped forward, her eyes locked on Azazel as she summoned every ounce of courage within her.

With a silent prayer on her lips, Pamela charged into the fray, her movements fueled by a fierce determination to protect her friends.

As she drew closer, she could see the exhaustion etched on Azazel’s face, the strain of battle evident in every line and furrow.

And then, without hesitation, Pamela launched the potion towards Azazel.

“Azazel catch!” Pamela shouted.

However, Azazel was so caught up in the moment that he failed to notice anything else around him, including Pamela’s presence.

Distracted, Azazel briefly glanced in Pamela’s direction, but it was too late. The potion slipped from his grasp, crashing straight onto his face. The bottle shattered upon impact, its contents splattering across his features in a chaotic cascade.

“No! The potion!” Pamela’s voice echoed with panic, her heart sinking at the sight of the precious liquid wasted.

Was it supposed to be taken orally?

The gravity of her mistake hit her like a ton of bricks, and Pamela felt a wave of guilt and responsibility wash over her.

She had just ruined everything –– the potential game-changer that could have turned the tide of the battle in their favor.

Pamela’s chest tightened with regret as she watched Azazel’s expression shift from confusion to frustration.

She knew she had let everyone down, including Whispera, whose guidance she had failed to heed.

“T-this is my fault,” Pamela whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos of the battlefield. “I’m sorry, Whispera.”