Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

“Based on the timeline, it should have been…” He paused, “about two days? If the passage really opened as scheduled, Sarah and the others should have already returned to the guild.”

"And then?" a young witcher named Jack asked, looking up. His left arm was wrapped in bandages. "Will the guild send someone to rescue us?"

“Yes,” Castio affirmed. “But we need to be prepared. The Purgatory Space is unstable, and even if the rescue team gets in, it will be difficult to find us. We need to… send a signal.”

"What do we use to send this?" Benny smiled wryly. "There are no electromagnetic waves here, no magical beacons, and even the most basic spatial anchor points are constantly drifting. I've tried everything."

“We have this.” Castio pulled something out of his pocket.

That was his angel nameplate, the identity mark that every official angel has. It was palm-sized, dark gold, and engraved with complex heavenly runes.

The nameplate itself has no communication function, but it has a property that it will resonate faintly when there are other angel nameplates or heavenly creations nearby.

“I’ve sensed it,” Castio said. “There are no other angelic plaques in Purgatory, but our rescue team will definitely be carrying beacons with Heavenly technical support, if there are any. As soon as they enter a certain range, my plaque will vibrate, and then we can actively send out energy pulses to guide them.”

Jack's eyes lit up: "How big is the area?"

“I don’t know,” Castio said honestly. “It depends on the power of the beacon and the level of interference in the Purgatory environment. It could be five kilometers, or it could only be five hundred meters. And…” He looked at the swirling dark red fog at the camp entrance, “The terrain of Purgatory changes all the time. Even if there is a signal, they may not be able to walk straight over.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the ground suddenly shook, trembling like a giant beast turning over.

A piercing metallic hiss echoed from within the metal wreckage, and dust and debris rained down from the ceiling. Everyone immediately stood up, gripped their weapons, and prepared for battle.

The vibration lasted for about ten seconds, then stopped.

Immediately afterwards, the camp's 'walls,' which were the inner walls of the wreckage, began to move.

It moves and reorganizes slowly, like a living thing.

The once smooth wall surface now shows new uneven structures, some previously unobstructed passages are squeezed and closed, and other new gaps open, changing the direction of airflow and causing the temperature to drop by several degrees.

“Here we go again.” Benny spat. “This is the third time. This godforsaken place won’t even give us a place to sleep in peace.”

This is one of the most deadly aspects of Purgatory: its unstable spatial structure.

Terrain, gravity, and even basic physical laws are constantly being fine-tuned.

One second you're standing on flat ground, the next you might find yourself in an abyss. What's more, these changes are completely unpredictable and have no discernible pattern.

After the tremors, the layout of the camp changed.

The original central fire pit had shifted three meters, and several sleeping bags were pinned down by the newly raised metal plate, but fortunately no one was injured.

Castio checked his nameplate, but there was no response.

Hope was slim, but it was their only hope.

At the same time, at the entrance to the Purgatory Rift.

The first team of witchers to enter consisted of twenty-four people, led by Renault himself.

They are not combat elites; most of the guild's elite are trapped in Purgatory. Instead, they are technical support and communications experts.

Each person carried a heavy metal box covered with an anti-corrosion coating and reinforced with rivets. Inside the metal box was a portable communication base station.

It's not a traditional radio base station; those things are useless in purgatory.

These base stations were modified overnight by Wu Heng and the technical department. The core principle is to utilize the underlying architecture of the 'Internet addiction' system: a strong signal communication technology based on the resonance of soul fluctuations.

"The principle is very simple." Before entering the rift, the technical director, Eileen, explained to everyone, "The Purgatory environment interferes with all conventional signals, but it cannot completely block connections at the soul level. The base station will emit soul resonance waves at a specific frequency, covering a radius of about ten kilometers. As long as you are within this range, your 'internet addiction' communicators can go online again and briefly connect to the guild's main server."

She held up a palm-sized black device that looked like an old-fashioned walkie-talkie, but with a touchscreen.

"Your real-time location will be displayed on the screen, based on a temporary coordinate system established by the base station, and the location of other online teammates will also be displayed."

“Most importantly, it will mark the coordinates of the rift entrance, and…” She pulled up a blurry image, “This is camp footage provided by Sarah. We have entered the features into the database, and the communicator will sound an alarm if you approach the camp.”

Renault slung the box over his shoulder, the weight making him feel a strain: "How long can the base station operate?"

“Theoretically, it’s seventy-two hours.” Eileen scratched her chin. “But the infernal environment will accelerate energy consumption, so it may only be forty-eight hours in reality. Moreover, once the base stations are activated, they cannot be moved. They will become fixed signal towers. Your task is to distribute them across the largest possible area and spread out the signal network like playing chess.”

"Will the monster attack the base station?" a young technician asked.

“Yes.” Eileen nodded. “The energy fluctuations emitted by the base stations are obvious targets for the creatures of Purgatory, so each base station needs at least two people to guard it until the battery runs out. It’s a dangerous mission, and you might die.”

No one backed down.

“Let’s begin then.” Renault nodded. “Remember, this operation has a time limit of forty-eight hours. After forty-eight hours, regardless of whether the mission is completed or not, everyone must retreat to the entrance of the rift. No exceptions will be made for those who are late.”

They stepped into the crevice.

My senses were instantly distorted.

First, there's a gravitational imbalance, like falling into a washing machine, being upside down and flipped around.

Then came the sound—the eternal wailing of purgatory poured directly into their brains. The mental shock caused several technicians to vomit on the spot. Renault, enduring the dizziness, shouted, "Stay calm, activate personal protective equipment!"

Everyone pressed the button on their belt, and a layer of light blue energy surged into their bodies, temporarily isolating them from some mental interference.

This is a protective talisman made from a sample of Michael's blood. It is limited in quantity and can only last for eight hours.

Renault looked around.

They were standing on a dark red plain, the ground made of a writhing substance that felt soft and spongy underfoot, like standing on the tongue of a giant beast.

The sky was filled with swirling, thick fog, with occasional flashes of yellow lightning. Visibility was extremely poor, less than fifty meters.

"Activate base station number one," Reynolds commanded.

Two technicians put down the box, opened the lid, and quickly assembled it.

The core of the base station is a crystal ball the size of a fist, with a complex array of runes floating inside. They mounted it on a tripod and connected it to power.

The crystal ball emitted a faint blue light. (End of Chapter)