Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

Castio then looked at Renault: "How large an area can your base stations cover?"

Renault retrieved the radar image.

On the screen, the yellow dots representing base stations resemble a sparse net, covering an area with a radius of about one hundred kilometers centered on the crack entrance.

However, many yellow dots are flashing, indicating that the signal is unstable or under attack.

“In theory, as long as we’re in this network, the communicator should work.” Renault stared at the communicator. “But the problem is that many base stations are about to collapse. Monsters are attacking them, and the batteries are running out. We need to get everyone to the crack before the signal network collapses.”

“As long as we return to the rift area, we will be safe. The guild master and the terrifying puppet he controls are guarding there, while also preventing the infernal creatures from quietly entering reality.”

Renault has absolute confidence in Chairman Lor.

Moreover, once he said it, no witcher objected; everyone shared the same thought, a fact proven by the guild master through countless terrifying battles against angels, demons, and monsters.

“Then let’s not waste time,” Dean said decisively. “Gather everyone and let’s go now.”

The command was transmitted swiftly.

One hundred and thirty-four Witchers, plus the twenty-four brought by Renault, made a total of one hundred and fifty-eight. They organized their equipment, distributed the remaining ammunition and medicine, helped the seriously wounded, and those who could still fight formed a defensive circle.

Before setting off, Castio did one last thing.

He affixed the angel plaque to the inner wall of the metal wreckage, infusing it with all his remaining power. The plaque melted, seeped into the metal, and formed a permanent heavenly rune on the surface.

“That way, if other witchers come here later…” he said softly, “at least there will be a signpost.”

The team broke through the wreckage and plunged into the thick fog.

On the communicator screen, green dots converged into a torrent, moving towards the entrance of the crack along the direction indicated by the base station signal.

Behind them, on the dark red infernal land, the isolated base stations went out one after another.

Like a candle flickering in the wind.

But they will soon be relit, like a candlelit path extending out of purgatory.

As people gathered at the entrance to the crack, the scene appeared both chaotic and orderly.

Like fish swimming against the current, the demon hunters struggled out of the dark red infernal fog and stumbled onto the relatively solid human land.

The medical team had already set up temporary tents at the edge of the giant pit, and the smells of stretchers, hemostatic agents, and disinfectant diluted the stench of the hellish environment.

Every face that emerged was stained with blood and exhausted, but deep in their eyes shone a light of rebirth.

Castio emerged with Dean, Sam, and the first Witchers.

The moment he stepped out of the crevice, the cool evening breeze brushed against his cheeks, accompanied by the natural scent of earth, and he felt a strange dizziness.

After a month of purgatory, my senses have long been recalibrated by sulfur, slime, and eternal wailing.

Returning to the human world now, even the crispness of the air feels like a luxurious sting.

“Cassie!” A voice, trembling with excitement, broke through the noise.

Elijah practically burst through the crowd, his newly healed wounds still tinged with pink, his golden eyes a mixture of ecstasy, anxiety, and deep guilt.

He grabbed Castio's arm with such force that Castio frowned.

“Kas…you’re really alive…” Elijah’s voice choked with emotion. “We thought…”

“Elijah,” Castio interrupted him, his voice calm, but a hint of tension could be detected if one listened closely, “Calm down, what happened?” Elijah then realized that the situation was inappropriate.

He glanced at the busy witchers around him, suppressed his turbulent emotions, leaned close to Castio's ear, and whispered rapidly in the angelic language that only the two of them could hear: "Heaven... Uriel has rebelled. After Raphael's death, he consolidated the remnants and launched a purge. The Seventh Temple has fallen, more than three hundred brothers have been imprisoned, and many more have been scattered among mortals or purified."

"We need you back. Only you can rally the people and stop Uriel from restarting the Apocalypse!"

Each word was like a cold nail, hammering into Castio's consciousness.

The temple fell, his brothers were imprisoned, and the Apocalypse was restarted... He could almost see those familiar golden halls stained with blood and fire, and he could hear the despairing silence in the confessional.

That was his responsibility, a heavy burden he had to bear after choosing to lead.

But his gaze involuntarily turned to what was behind him.

Dean was roughly shoving away a doctor who was trying to examine his wounds, yelling that he was fine and that people should go and take care of the seriously wounded.

Sam knelt beside a young witcher with a broken leg, skillfully securing the splint and whispering words of encouragement.

Further away, Renault was reporting the situation to Wu Heng. The flashing dots on the screen showed that a large number of Witchers were still trapped deep in Purgatory, and the signal network was expanding with difficulty.

On one side are his fellow angels who followed him and were driven to despair by him.

On one side are his human comrades who fought alongside him and are still struggling in purgatory.

Castio's fingertips felt slightly cool.

The angelic power had not yet been restored, and the faint light in his chest was like a candle flame in the wind.

He knew that even if he went back, there was only so much he could do.

But as Elijah said, he needed to 'show himself,' and his very existence was a banner that could awaken his scattered, fearful, and disoriented followers.

“Kas?” Elijah urged anxiously, “Every moment of delay could mean the loss of more brothers…”

Castio closed his eyes.

During his three months in purgatory, he saw many things clearly: the true meaning of power, sacrifice, and protection.

He remembered the curses Dean swore when he shielded him from the claws of the Bone Tower, the silence with which Sam stuffed the last half of his energy rations into his hands, and the look in the eyes of those human witchers who still supported each other in dire straits.

He owed them more than just the debt of saving their lives; he also owed them a heavier debt of gratitude to his companions.

But he also owes a debt to the angels in heaven who believed in him.

A few seconds later, he opened his eyes, and the gold in his eyes looked as if it were covered with a thin layer of ice.

“I will go back.” He said to Elijah, his voice low but carrying an undeniable determination.

Then he turned and walked toward Dean and Sam.

The two had just finished dealing with their tasks when they saw Castio's serious expression and immediately realized what was going on.

"Are you leaving?" Dean spoke first, his tone certain.

He knew all too well the mixture of guilt and resolve on Castio's face.

“Heaven is in turmoil, and my followers are being purged,” Castio said succinctly. “I must go back, at least… to let them know that I am still alive, that there is still hope.”

Sam looked at him silently for two seconds, then nodded: "Go do what you need to do. We're here, don't worry." (End of Chapter)