The threads of mana disappeared in thin air just as soon as they had arrived. The guards were once again in possession of their bodies but scared to death. And rightfully so.

Evrin also collapsed in Einar's arms. The guards were breathing heavily as well.

It was.. taxing.

Damian had only seen the mana threads attached to their heads. He could neither sense its presence nor sense the mana of the controlled bodies being manipulated by a foreign force. The amount of mana had not changed, nor was there any change in one's mana signature. Then.. what was so taxing?

'This shit is way out of my league.'

Fourth rankers were once in centuries. What of the fifth rankers? How many exceptional, unique, talented candidates, righteous or villainous, had these people killed to become one? And even after becoming one, how many nameless fifth rankers had these people erased from history?

Perhaps the control over dungeons wasn't entirely without reason. Monitoring individuals rapidly gaining strength would be easier for a higher power that way. But it stripped the freedom of individual minds. But then again, in a world where there were ways to cultivate godly strength.. a necessity of control was the most pressing one. For both the ambitious ones and the ones who simply wish to be left alone in peace. And he was both.

"Eve, do you see me?" Einar asked.

That too in the most desperate of voices. Vidalia was more composed, but her face also showed a range of emotions behind the strictness of a warrior. That wasn't good. A weakness, one those tyrants can use. Damian looked all around the room. They all had such weaknesses. Even Highswords cared for their brotherhood.

'Cough' 'Cough'

"Ahm.. Yes, I can."

Evrin replied; her shock of losing control of herself, unlike the guards, was more masked.

"Did you see? And hear?" Vidalia asked.

Evrin looked at her aunt. The trembling, unsure eyes said it all very clearly. And yet she whispered, "Yes,"

They can observe without the notice of the pathfinder, but to take action, they need to reveal themselves. But how would one know what force takes control? What about when the mind is asleep? They also communicate. Whispers of such an undetectable force guiding one's actions and decisions—the most unimaginable of individual horrors.

Made even worse by the fact that not everyone could see or sense the divine mana threads, however big they may be.

"I will come with you," Landbreaker said in a low voice. Still, everyone present in the room heard it.

Damian nodded. He spared a glance at the kneeling guards, showing an act of utmost submission before him. They had broken several laws, some punishable by death even. But it wasn't their fault. Still, this was the kind of thing he could not let spread among the common public.

What damn fates would theirs be if he left it to those uncaring gods? Their secrets were the most precious thing to them.

"Lucian,"

Damian called out, his tone official and calculated, one that meant it was an order.

"See to it that these guards have enough food to survive for years. Give them the best armor and weapons we have. They can write a letter to their loved ones, but no meetings. Ask them to select one or two of the ocean dungeons best suited for them. And.. make sure they enter. Then remove those dungeons from all records."

Damian finished. Then, looking towards the kneeling guards, he raised his voice a little.

"Guards!"

"Yes, sir." All twenty answered with utmost devotion.

"You have new direct orders from your Keeper. Ascend. Enter the dungeons and ascend. Become a transcendent.. or never return."

The guards were indeed shaken, yet the reply came, even more firm than before.

"Yes, Lord Keeper."

It was a chance at least. If they did nothing, they would be silenced one way or another. Their lives will be full of unknown fears and doubts.

Damian nodded and then turned towards Mindseer.

"What did you see?"

Mindseer stared at the most elite of sanctuary soldiers and lowered her head.

"Nothing at all. Darkness as usual."

The future was their own. Or maybe with him present, they were destined to be doomed, no matter the path.

"Torvin, Souldealer—handle the sanctum staff or anyone who might have noticed something odd. Make up some story. This matter will not leave this room." Damian added.

He spared a glance at Vidalia. He would have to convince her not to report back this thing.

"Let's go,"

Looking straight, Damian opened the waygate to Sam. Landbreaker and he entered inside. Before they stepped in, he sensed Vidalia following behind as well.

In the middle of the blue ocean, a giant steel cube, covered in runes, stood still, facing the slow crashing waves. Damian, Landbreaker, and Vidalia stepped out of the waygate—Sam and Steelweaver were standing atop the steel cube that sealed the dungeon within.

"What happened?" Sam asked. Damian tried his best to ignore the red mana thread attached to his head.

"We talked. I made a deal." Damian replied to Sam, his eyes conveying the contents of the deal. Still, Damian gave words to it,

"I kill Steelweaver, and sanctuary is spared. And I am to pledge my allegiance to another god."

Sam took a step back, his face a picture of disbelief. Steelweaver, on the other hand, simply exhaled and smiled. From the side of his eyes, Damian noticed a golden mana thread landing on Vidalia.

"You can't—" Sam said, but was quickly interrupted by Steelweaver.

"That is the best outcome, boy. I just hope those bastards keep their word. Without me, there shouldn't be any reason for them to harm you."

Damian exhaled, "Would you like to see my golem, Steelweaver?"

The God of Metal Golem's smile widened.

"If your creation is worthy, this god shall praise you."

Damian smiled. "Nothing compared to a god. But it is a most unique one. I received this strange relic in the dungeon after killing one of the golem-type monsters. The study of the dungeon revealed it belonged to a civilization made entirely of living golems."

"Completely automated?" Steelweaver's eyes widened.

"Yes, can even communicate. Though he is like a newborn with memories starting from the moment I recreated him."

"I would most certainly love to see this unique being," Steelweaver said, trying hard to contain his excitement.

For a man about to die, he made it surprisingly difficult to do the deed. Damian opened a waygate back to his lab, stepped in, and gestured for Jacob to follow him.

The man of metal holding Damian's hand was a few inches taller than him. The pieces of armor were Blazur and Sacrium. Giving the guy a lean and perfectly humanoid build. Jacob was wearing pants. Shirts were uncomfortable for him, but pants were fine.

The shy man of metal had a gentleman-level standard for decency. Damian believed it to be a side effect of spending too much time with Vidalia. She adored the guy and always made excuses to take him along to her research department. It was so odd, but Damian had noticed changes in the behaviour of Jacob whenever Vidalia was nearby.

Steelweaver leapt towards the lump of metal, circling him slowly, his old fingers tracing each bolt and line of metal with utmost focus. Even murmuring in an odd language in between. Damian assumed it to be the dwarves' own language. The elves also had a unique language once. But only spells of that language had remained—nothing else.

"Each part has layers of small, exquisite pieces. This goes beyond meticulous for a golem. Sacrium and an impressive alloy! Amazing! Beautiful! With this much flexibility, the hands can hold weapons. It would require monstrous control though. How is it alive? There is no unique mana inside. And what is this?" Said Steelweaver.

His fingers had stopped near palm-sized runic circles etched on Jacob's hands, chest, and back.

"His name is Jacob." Damian gestured, and Jacob used the receiver to greet Steelweaver. The dwarf had seen the receiver being used before in his office.

"He requires my own mana to stay functional. The physical movements and spells won't work without it, but consciousness is not lost if there is no mana. The only thing that truly separates him and us is—"

"The ability to gather mana and use it as we would." Steelweaver finished.

Damian nodded. Before the presence of gods, he didn't feel a need to correct the man. Jacob can control mana threads using his own mana. The complex veins of mana were the same in him as any pathfinder.

The back of Jacob was not in direct line of sight for Vidalia or Sam. Damian attached a few mana threads to Jacob and etched a new runic spell on one of the detachable blazur plates.

Damian continued, "The small circles are my runic spells. I have a skill that assists me in learning runic spells at a much faster rate. A unique aspect of my job."

Steelweaver stared at the new runic circle and nodded slightly.

He was about to continue when Damian felt several powerful mana signatures entering his mana-sense range, some 140 kilometers away, together. 17 to be exact. Damian looked towards the north. That speed of movement was insane. In minutes, they crossed the 80-kilometer range, and Landbreaker's eyes widened as well.

"Unfathomable rank.. And several Legendary ones." He whispered.

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