As they moved deeper into the endless corridors of the library, the scene before them grew steadily more unsettling. The number of corpses they passed had already surpassed the number of monsters that had ambushed their group earlier, and the realization that a single being was responsible for all of them was beginning to take hold.

The evidence was consistent, the wounds were too precise, too deliberate. Whoever or whatever had done this wielded both a sword and a piercing weapon, the latter strong enough to bore clean holes straight through flesh and bone.

Joey was convinced it had to be another rank nine, and the longer they walked, the more bodies they encountered, the more anxious he became, his fingers twitching whenever silence grew too deep.

Mathew, however, was the opposite. What had started as tense anticipation had turned into a restless irritation. By his estimation, two full days had passed since they began their search, and still not a single living enemy had shown itself. His patience, thin to begin with, had worn out completely. If he found whatever was doing this, he swore he would tear it apart, just to relieve the frustration.

When they reached a fork in the corridor, Mathew stopped abruptly, his hand instinctively brushing against the hilt of his katana. Joey halted behind him, waiting for a signal or a word, but none came immediately.

Then Mathew frowned, tilting his head slightly as if listening to something faint. Joey noticed it too a moment later, a subtle, almost imperceptible stream of mana drifting from the right-hand path.

He peered down that direction, squinting, but there was nothing visible beyond the shadows. The sensation was faint, barely a trace, something only a mage would even recognize. That alone was strange. The library had been devoid of concentrated mana; only the ambient flow of the world itself lingered here, and from what they had observed, the monsters themselves never used mana in combat.

That meant whatever was ahead on the right was different, possibly the one responsible for all the killings. Joey felt the realization sink into him like a weight, his heartbeat slowing in quiet dread. He prayed silently that Mathew wouldn't choose that path.

But Mathew's eyes had already brightened, his expression shifting into one of fierce curiosity and something close to excitement. "Joey," he said with a faint grin, "I felt something from this path."

And without another word, without waiting for a response, he sprinted down the right corridor, his boots echoing against the stone floor.

Joey stared after him for a long moment, the silence of the left-hand path calling to him, heavy and safe. Then he sighed, muttering under his breath, "I'm never taking another Site request again. This is insane." He looked toward the shadowed hall and shivered, whispering a small prayer, "Lady Ariel, give me strength."

Feeling only slightly steadier after that, he followed Mathew into the darkness ahead.

He stepped cautiously into the right-hand corridor, though almost immediately he lost sight of Mathew. The path ahead was darker than the rest of the library, the torches along the walls dim and flickering, and the pale lights that had illuminated the ceilings elsewhere were now little more than dying embers.

The only sign that Mathew was still somewhere ahead was the sound of his boots echoing rhythmically against the stone floor, steady, unbothered, and far too loud for Joey's liking.

He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to shout or throw something at him. At this rate, whatever was lurking in the dark would hear them from half a mile away, not that it probably needed to. If it had killed that many monsters singlehandedly, it wouldn't need to prepare for the likes of them anyway.

The further Joey went, the heavier the air became. The faint trickle of mana he had sensed earlier was growing stronger, condensing until it felt thick enough to touch. Each step he took made it clearer, denser, sharper against his senses. Before long, his face had turned pale, his breaths uneven. His body trembled not from exhaustion, but from something deeper. It was as if his own will had stopped mattering, as if he were being drawn forward by something irresistible, compelled to move even though every instinct screamed at him to stop.

And still, the power grew.

It surged past the boundaries of what Joey could measure, surpassing the faint impressions he associated with rank nine, then rank eight, rank seven, and higher still, each threshold crossed with ease, until it reached a point that no mortal scale could define. The pressure of it pressed down on his chest, and his heart thudded painfully in response. His thoughts turned sluggish, his body heavy, his mind whispering only one word, divine.

'Divine?' he thought, his brow creasing as confusion muddled with awe. The word echoed in his head without meaning until, out of habit more than awareness, he whispered the same prayer he always did when faced with fear, "Lady Ariel, give me strength."

The moment the words passed through his mind, warmth spread through him like sunlight after a storm. A soft, golden radiance wrapped around him, weightless yet grounding, steadying his breath and clearing the fog from his thoughts. The trembling in his limbs faded, replaced by an almost fragile calm.

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The mana around him no longer felt suffocating but distant, its overwhelming intensity dulled by the barrier of light that surrounded him. It was a familiar comfort, the gentle embrace of his goddess, and for a brief moment he almost sighed in relief.

Then he looked ahead again, his expression hardening. Whatever lay beyond was no ordinary being. That flow of mana, pure, sacred, and infinite could only belong to something at the divine rank, the level reserved for gods or those who had stepped into their domain.

And though he knew with absolute certainty that he should have been running in the opposite direction, Joey found himself standing still, staring into the darkness, because some part of him already understood that even if he tried, it wouldn't let him leave.

This site had a restriction level of rank ten, which meant that the strongest possible creature they could encounter should, by all logic, not exceed the lower reaches of rank eight, and even that would have been a stretch of terrible luck.

Anything beyond that range, especially something divine, should have been impossible. Joey knew that if a being of divine rank truly existed here, it would be bound by heavy restrictions that prevented it from harming those who entered. Sites worked that way. They had to. Otherwise, no one would have survived long enough to tell the tales.

Because of that, Joey convinced himself that whatever was ahead wasn't a threat. It couldn't be. And when he heard Mathew's voice echo faintly from somewhere ahead, that conviction solidified.

"Joey, come here. I… I don't really get what I'm looking at," Mathew called out, his tone a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty.

Relief washed over Joey at the sound. Without the pressure of the overwhelming mana clouding his thoughts, he no longer felt that strange mix of reverence and dread that had nearly paralyzed him earlier. His steps quickened into a jog, and though the corridor still felt unnaturally dim, the faint light from above seemed to brighten as he drew closer.

It took only a few minutes for him to catch up, and when he finally reached Mathew, his pace slowed until he came to a stop beside him. Then he saw it.

A statue, immense, ancient, and radiating an unmistakable divine presence.

Joey's breath caught in his throat. The comforting light of faith that had surrounded him vanished at once, stripped away by the statue's aura, leaving him exposed to the full weight of the mana it emitted. But this time he managed to stand his ground. His knees trembled, but he didn't falter. He forced himself to look at it, to study what Mathew had found.

The statue was carved entirely from what appeared to be granite, though the faint sheen of its surface suggested it might have been something far rarer. It towered over them, its head nearly brushing the distant ceiling. The figure it depicted was unlike anything Joey had ever seen.

It wasn't human, nor any race known to him. Its head resembled that of a lion, the mane flowing down in thick, sculpted waves that reached to its knees. The body, however, was humanoid, tall, broad-shouldered, and clad in what could only be described as a stone rendering of a lab coat, the details so precise that Joey could almost imagine the texture of fabric.

From its back sprouted two pairs of arms. In one, it held a lantern, impossibly, though carved from stone, the lantern glowed softly, casting a pale, golden light that shimmered faintly against the walls. Joey found himself unconsciously holding his breath, the sight of that glow unsettling in its quiet beauty.

Another arm clutched a struggling human figure by the collar, the sculpted body twisted mid-motion, as though frozen in the act of fighting to break free. The lion-headed being's gaze seemed fixed on that figure, its carved eyes sharp and deliberate, as if in deep contemplation.

The third arm held a book, unadorned, simple, and yet strangely captivating in its stillness. There was something almost reverent about the way the statue cradled it, as though it held meaning beyond comprehension.

And in the final hand stood another human figure, smaller but defiant, planted firmly on the statue's palm, staring up at it with an expression carved in perfect detail, a glare full of hatred and defiance so vivid that Joey could almost feel it himself.

The creature's legs, at first glance, seemed almost ordinary, but that illusion quickly shattered once one noticed the unnatural way they bent backward at the knees, their form wrapped in coarse, spiked fur that jutted outward like tiny blades.

The sight was disquieting, but Joey's focus soon drifted elsewhere, drawn irresistibly toward the smaller figure standing defiantly upon the beast's open palm.

He wanted to study the entire statue, to take in every detail and meaning it might hold, but his eyes kept returning to that man, the lone, defiant figure carved with such precision that it almost seemed sacrilegious to call it stone. There was something alive about it, something disturbingly real. The hatred etched into its features was palpable; it radiated from the glare in its eyes, a silent fury that felt directed at everything and nothing at once.

The longer Joey stared, the stronger that feeling grew, until he began to sense something else, faint at first, then undeniable. The mana he had been feeling since entering the chamber wasn't coming from the lion-headed being, as he had first assumed. It was emanating from the man. All of it.

He drew in a sharp breath, his chest tightening as realization struck. That man… wasn't just a statue. Or at least, he hadn't always been one. Joey couldn't explain how he knew, but something deep within him whispered that this figure had once been alive, that it had been turned to stone, perhaps trapped here as part of this grotesque monument.

And then there was the book.

When Joey turned his eyes toward it, a quiet shock went through him. The book wasn't stone. It wasn't carved or sculpted at all. It was real, bound in worn grey leather that seemed untouched by time, its surface faintly reflecting the lantern's light.

The moment he realized this, his instincts as a mage flared awake. Throughout their journey, he had collected books, some to sell, others to study, always searching for fragments of understanding hidden within these ancient ruins. And now, his intuition screamed that this book was different, that it held something important. Something worth far more than anything they had found in this place.

Desire clouded his caution, pushing away every sensible thought. He took a slow, hesitant step forward, eyes fixed on the book, his pulse quickening. The oppressive weight of the statue's mana pressed down on him, warning him to stop, but he couldn't. Not now. Not when something so strange, so potentially powerful, was right in front of him.

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