A deep, frigid voice echoed through the bowels of the castle, vibrating across the walls as if the stone itself were speaking. Even with the torches lit, their light seemed to die before reaching the shadows. The flames flickered weakly, swallowed by the black stone that devoured every glimmer of warmth. This place didn't want to be seen, only felt.

"I am the one who sees all. I am the King. Come to me in the throne room, and I will deliver the Final Judgment."

The words didn't just echo; they sank. The sound hit their minds like a weight, leaving a ringing stillness in its wake. No one spoke. The group exchanged quick glances, tension etched into every face. The mere thought that the Midnight King might be listening, watching, was enough to crack whatever sense of safety they had left.

Should they talk strategy? Choose positions?

"Is that really him?" Allison asked, her tone wary.

They all turned toward the corridor ahead, a long, lightless passage that stretched into shadow, touched only by the faint glow of distant torches.

"Then where's the Witch?" Mason whispered.

Luke drew in a slow breath. His Demon Perception was pushed to its limit. None of them could rule out the possibility of invisible enemies stalking the edges of their senses. They stood in a tight circle, backs pressed together, reacting to every flicker, every faint scrape of metal or fabric.

"She'll be with the King," Erza said quietly, her voice steady but cold. Her grip tightened on the scythe. "Two bosses, side by side."

Luke glanced at the timer hovering faintly before him.

[Estimated Time Until End: 01 hour : 31 minutes : 37 seconds]

They had only a short window to defeat both bosses, find the portal somewhere inside the castle, and escort eighteen hundred people safely through it back to Earth. He was nervous, tense, sweating. Luke rarely got this wound up during battles, but the stakes had never been higher. Everything would depend on him landing that arrow on the King, who they feared might be a powerful Rank D monster.

The thought lingered in Luke's mind: he could miss, or the monster might summon some kind of magical barrier to block the shot.

The timing had to be perfect. They already knew that, depending on how things unfolded, someone might have to distract the King in combat long enough for Luke to take the shot. But now, things were taking an even more uncertain turn. Should they accept the invitation?

"We don't have a choice," Allison murmured.

He nodded once, jaw tight. The tension around them thickened, electric and alive. They moved. Slow, deliberate steps echoed across the ancient floor. The corridor ahead stretched like an endless tunnel, consumed by shadow. The torches lining the walls burned softly, their glow trembling across the slick, dark stone. The silence wasn't empty; it was listening.

Their boots struck the floor in a rhythm too quiet, too careful. Each step seemed to come back a heartbeat late, the castle mocking them with its own distorted echo.

Sealed doors lined the passage. Others hung half-open, revealing thin slivers of black beyond, spaces that breathed, damp and cold, as if something inside waited for the right moment to move.

"We're walking straight into his trap," Luke murmured.

"Like flies into a web," Erza replied, her scythe glinting softly as she held it close. "Let's see what kind of spider waits at the center."

Luke stood silent for a long moment, thoughts racing. What if they ran? They could try circling the castle, look for a window, a side passage, anything. But the fortress stretched into the abyss itself, endless, without edges, as if it had been carved out of the void. And even if he found an opening, it wouldn't matter. The King's voice had already proven he knew exactly where they were.

Still, the thought lingered. He could try a long-range shot, an arrow straight to the throne before stepping inside. A clean, silent kill. But some instinct warned him it would be useless. Nothing in this place was ever that simple. Beneath his layers of clothing, he felt Franky stir. The serpent slid up his shoulder, cool scales brushing against his skin. Part of its body slipped out through the collar, narrow eyes gleaming as it peered down the corridor, mirroring his own unease.

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The tension was suffocating. They pressed forward. The corridor stretched endlessly until finally it opened into a colossal double door, already ajar. Beyond it waited a faint blue glow. Inside, torches burned with ghostly flames that gave no warmth, casting a sickly light that barely fought the shadows. The air smelled of damp stone and something metallic, something ancient, like blood that had never dried.

Luke hesitated. One hand gripped his kukri, the other brushed the storage pendant. The bow pulsed faintly within its pocket dimension, as if it could sense what awaited them. Drawing it now would mean giving away his intent.

He cursed under his breath and closed his eyes for a second, forcing calm. His mind had to be still, like a lake without ripples. With no other choice, they stepped across the threshold. The moment their feet touched the floor, dozens of torches flared to life in a chain reaction, flooding the hall with sudden light.

Everyone flinched. What stood before them was overwhelming.

A vast circular chamber, built entirely of black stone, stretched upward into darkness so deep the ceiling couldn't be seen. A faded red carpet cut straight through the center, leading to the heart of the room. From above, a golden chandelier hung impossibly high, holding candles of blue flame that burned almost soundlessly.

Massive columns lined the walls, casting long, heavy shadows. But what drew their eyes were the statues. Six of them encircled the chamber, each unique, hooded figures like reapers, others winged and horned, resembling twisted cherubs. Their features were worn with time, yet their stone eyes seemed to follow every movement. And then, in the center, the throne.

Made entirely of blue crystal, it shimmered like living ice, radiating a cold that filled the air. At its base knelt two statues, one shattered into fragments, the other still intact, eternally bowed in reverence. Upon the throne sat a massive figure of stone, motionless. Its face bore six eyes.

Luke recognized it instantly. The Architect.

It was the same figure that had been depicted on the wall of the first mechanism, back in Bartholomew's fortress. No one moved. Nine statues in total. Nine potential enemies. Charlie edged closer to him, posture rigid.

"Do not be afraid…" The King's voice slithered through the air, gentle, yet everywhere at once, coming from walls, floor, and ceiling alike.

In an instant, everyone scattered for cover behind the columns. Allison met Luke's gaze, and that was all it took. He drew his bow from the pocket dimension.

"Do not trouble yourselves with the statues," the voice continued, soft and certain. "They mean you no harm. There are no souls left in them to awaken."

The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. None of them wanted to believe it.

"Is he telling the truth, Anne?" Erza whispered.

"Anne… cannot… tell," the doll maid answered, hesitant and unsure.

Luke drew the epic arrow. The metal tip caught the blue flame, gleaming coldly.

"I have no intention of harming you," the King continued, his tone calm but layered with something ancient. "As long as you do not harm me first. My gratitude, truly, for breaking the three seals. I had been asleep, trapped between fragments of existence. Those mechanisms were my prison, but you have freed me. You have my deepest thanks."

Evangeline said nothing. Her form began to unravel, shadows consuming her shape until she dissolved completely.

"Are you ignoring me?!"

The voice hit like thunder. The floor vibrated beneath their feet.

"I invited you here for a conversation! I opened the doors of my castle and allowed you to reach me, unharmed, unchallenged, and this is how you repay me?"

The entire chamber shuddered. Dust rained down from the ceiling.

"Well… if you refuse to speak, I suppose that leaves me no choice."

"Wait!" Allison stepped out from behind cover, sliding her katana back into its sheath.

Luke immediately understood what she was doing. Desperate, yes, but necessary.

"After everything we've faced to get here," she said, steadying her voice, "it's only natural we'd be cautious, especially surrounded by so many powerful enemies."

"Surrounded?" The King's laughter rolled through the chamber, low and heavy. "Do you really think I need protection within my own castle?"

The next sound was an explosion. Every statue in the hall shattered at once, the deafening cracks echoing through the stone. Shards of marble and dust filled the air. Luke's gaze shot toward the throne. The figure sitting there fractured, lines spreading across its body until it crumbled to dust.

"As I told you," the voice came again, closer now, cold and deliberate. "They were only statues. Empty shells."

He turned back the way they had come and froze. Something was there, right behind them.

It was tall, far taller than any human, nearly three meters of living stone. Its skin was ashen gray, its body veined with deep fractures. Four wings arched from its back like broken monuments. The aura that rolled off it was suffocating, primal. Every hair on Luke's body stood on end as the System window appeared before his eyes.

[Fallen Stone Archangel (Midnight King) - Lvl 137]

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