CHAPTER 191: EX 191. GOD’S TEMPLE IV

Racheal and her cohort slipped through the metal doors, and the instant their boots crossed the threshold, the chamber awoke. Torches along the walls flared to life, but instead of firelight, they burned with black flames, smothering the room in an eerie glow.

The chamber stretched wide, vast enough for echoes to get lost in the shadows. Yet all eyes were inevitably drawn to the centerpiece, a colossal statue, thirteen feet tall.

It was a woman, sculpted with impossible precision. Every curve, every line of her body radiated artistry, a sculptor’s obsession carved into stone. She stood nude, one arm raised high toward the heavens, the other bent across her chest in a modest veil. But no one was admiring the craftsmanship.

Her hair was wrong. Not strands, not locks, but snakes. Serpents frozen in mid-hiss, their stone eyes empty and dead. The sight alone was enough to raise a chill across the skin.

Racheal’s hand slipped to her bowstring. "Stay alert," she said, voice firm but low. "We don’t know what abilities this creature might have."

The elf cohort remained silent, and unreadable. She didn’t press them. They’d heard her, whether they listened or not was their own affair.

Then, the statue moved.

The hand covering its chest slid away, fingers unfurling like a flower in bloom. The other, once raised to the sky, began to lower slowly, deliberately. The serpents of her hair quivered, stone cracking as their eyes flickered to life, an unnatural green glow pulsing in their depths. That same light ignited within the statue’s own gaze.

The head turned. Slowly and patiently, but when it fixed on them, it tilted, cocking to the side as though studying prey.

And then it vanished.

"Take cover!" Racheal snapped, already leaping aside. She twisted in midair, flipping clean over, and landed in a crouch, bow in hand, an arrow drawn in one fluid motion. Jessica, eyes closed in her strange focus, followed with flawless grace, her spear already gleaming in her grip as she hit the ground beside her captain.

A thunderous impact shook the chamber. Where they had stood, claws gouged the stone, sending shards and dust flying in every direction.

The guardian stood there now, no longer a statue but something else entirely, its delicate hands replaced by monstrous talons, its beauty sharpened into something cruel.

"Get ready to attack—" Racheal began, but the words froze on her lips.

A shimmer of power snapped around them, a dome of force materializing out of nothing. The barrier cut them off, sealing her, Jessica, and the guardian together.

Racheal’s eyes widened, her breath catching.

"What...?"

****

Racheal’s eyes widened as she studied the golden barrier shimmering around them. Her chest tightened. ’This... this is impossible.’

The thought barely had time to settle before a sudden clang echoed across the chamber. Jessica, still in her sleep state, had driven her spear into the barrier with all her strength, yet the golden wall didn’t even ripple. The sound rang like steel on steel, mocking her effort. The barrier stood unmoved, steady as a mountain.

Racheal’s gaze snapped outward, to the elves standing beyond. Her expression hardened as she spoke their names with cold precision.

"Luna. Hazel. Iris." Her eyes shifted, sharp as a blade, toward the others. "Caleb. Rowan. Miles. Julian. What is this?"

Rowan stepped forward, a faint, mocking smile tugging at his lips. "Isn’t it obvious, Princess? We are betraying you."

The words hit harder than any blow. Racheal stood frozen for a breath, anger and disbelief colliding inside her.

Rowan’s voice cut through the silence like poison. "Getrude sends her regards. Once you’re gone, the elven throne will belong to her."

Racheal’s eyes narrowed, fury flashing. "Are you dumb or something?" Her voice trembled with suppressed rage. "There are other contenders for the throne. How the hell would this improve her chances?"

Before Rowan could answer, Jessica suddenly moved. Still asleep, yet instinct sharper than thought, she lunged and shoved Racheal back. A second later her spear rang against a claw of stone, the female statue’s jagged hand descending like a guillotine.

8"Shit!" Racheal cursed under her breath as she drew her bow. Energy crackled at her fingertips. "Crimson shot."

The arrow she released burned with a deep red aura, exploding against the statue’s head with a violent force. The impact staggered the construct just enough for Jessica to slip free, rolling back as dust rained from the ceiling.

Rowan’s voice rose again, calm and cruel. "To answer your question... the other contenders will soon meet their fate. As for you, Princess, you’re the weakest of them. Eliminating you first is only logical."

Racheal’s blood boiled. Betrayal cut deeper than any wound, and she cursed herself for trusting them, for letting herself be surrounded by snakes. But regret wouldn’t save her now. Jessica was still locked in combat, her spear flashing in arcs of desperate defense as the statue’s clawed hands slammed against her again and again. Their movements blurred around the barrier, the sound of steel against stone rattling through the air.

Gritting her teeth, Racheal raised her bow once more. She loosed another crimson arrow, the explosion striking the statue’s shoulder. The damage was minimal, but it forced the construct to hesitate, its gaze twitching toward her. That opening was all Jessica needed, her spear carving a clean strike across its chest.

Racheal fired again, and again, each shot distracting, forcing the statue to divide its focus. She wasn’t breaking it, but she could buy Jessica the moments she needed.

Outside the barrier, her so-called cohort simply stood and watched, smirks playing on their faces as though the deadly battle unfolding inside was nothing more than entertainment.

****

As the elves stood before the shimmering barrier, their eyes fixed on Racheal and Jessica’s relentless struggle against the stone guardian, tension rippled through their ranks. Sparks danced with every clash of weapon and statue, the air thick with the resonance of high-tier battle.

Luna broke the silence first, her voice low, almost uncertain. "Do you think they can take it down?"

Rowan, arms folded, studied the pair inside the barrier with a calculating gaze. The coordination between the two women was sharp, refined, and almost flawless but he saw the truth beneath the surface. He exhaled slowly. "Even if they manage it, they’ll be exhausted. Even Lady Jessica will be out of commission." His eyes flicked toward Luna, hard and deliberate. "That’s when we strike. We cannot fail Princess Gertrude."

Luna hesitated, then gave a faint nod of understanding, her lips pressed into a thin line.

But before another word could pass between them, a voice slipped into her ear, it was smooth, and casual, but carried a weight that froze her where she stood.

"What’s going on here?"

The entire elf cohort whipped around as one.

A boy stood at the mouth of the chamber. His features were so sharp, so effortlessly handsome, that for a heartbeat they could have mistaken him for an elf prince himself. White hair tied back in a neat tail, eyes glinting like cold fire. He wore a black combat uniform that seemed to swallow the dim light around him.

Behind him stood others, but none of the elves could look away from the boy. His presence alone drawing their focus.

"You must be the ones who cleared the monsters." His voice carried an almost disarming calm, yet there was something beneath it, a confidence that brushed against arrogance. He glanced toward the barrier where Racheal and Jessica fought, sweat glistening on their brows as the stone guardian pressed them hard. "It made the journey easier for us."

His gaze lingered on the two within. Then, he spoke again, this time colder.

"Do you mind giving us the altar? I’d rather not use force."

With a flick of his wrist, a sword shimmered into existence from his inventory. The steel caught the dim glow of the chamber’s torches, its edge gleaming like a predator’s eye. The light rippled across his calm expression, a silent warning.

The elves stiffened, weapons instinctively inching toward readiness.

But the boy only stood there, blade loose at his side, his posture relaxed, as if he already knew how this would end.