To check it again and confirm his thoughts, Amon decided to go outside the temple.

He carefully walked back the way he came, passing between the massive pillars and stepping down the moss-covered stairs.

As soon as he crossed the entrance, the gloomy forest welcomed him once more. The black trees stood silently, their dark leaves barely moving, as if watching his every step.

Amon looked around for a moment and then fixed his gaze on one of the tallest trees nearby. Its trunk was thick, rising far above the others, its branches spreading wide.

"That one should do," he muttered.

He approached the tree and tested the bark with his hand. It was rough but sturdy. Without wasting time, Amon began to climb.

His movements were careful yet steady, his fingers gripping cracks and knots in the bark as he pulled himself higher. The higher he went, the smaller the temple below appeared, slowly being swallowed by the forest once again.

After some effort, he reached a strong branch and stopped.

Amon steadied his breathing and lifted his head.

Then he saw them.

Far in the distance, beyond the endless sea of black trees, jagged shapes pierced the grey horizon.

Mountains.

They rose tall and dark, their silhouettes unmistakable even through the haze. Just as the map had shown.

Amon's eyes widened slightly as he took it all in. There was no doubt anymore.

"…So it's true," he murmured.

It would take a few days to reach that place, judging by the distance. The journey wouldn't be easy, but at least now he had a direction. A real destination.

A slow smile spread across Amon's face.

A smile filled with relief, certainty, and quiet satisfaction.

Of course, Amon knew that he couldn't be completely sure this was right. There was a possibility that those triangles indicated something else.

But again, Amon didn't have much of a choice. If he wanted to survive… to escape this place, then he needed to try anything that had even the slightest possibility.

---

Amon went back inside the temple.

This time, he walked deeper into it.

His footsteps echoed softly against the ancient stone floor, each sound swallowed by the long, hollow hall.

Broken pillars lined both sides, their surfaces carved with symbols he couldn't understand. At the far end of the hall, barely visible through the gloom, stood another entrance.

A doorway.

Amon raised his wooden torch higher and moved toward it cautiously. As he drew closer, he realized something was wrong.

There was no door.

There were no shattered remains. No hinges. Just an open passage, as if it had never been meant to be sealed.

Swallowing hard, Amon stepped inside.

The chamber beyond was vast and suffocatingly dark. The air felt thick, heavy with an ancient presence. Amon lifted the torch and slowly scanned the room, the firelight trembling as if afraid.

And then.

He was surprised. He thought there was someone there.

But then he observed it.

A massive idol stood at the center of the chamber.

Amon froze.

It was a statue—no, an idol of a woman, carved entirely from dark stone. She towered over him, her presence dominating the chamber. Her long hair flowed down her back like a frozen cascade, reaching all the way to her knees.

Multiple arms. Not two or four, but a total of sixteen hands extended from her body.

Eight on each side. Each hand clutched a different weapon.

One held a curved sword stained black by time. Another gripped a massive axe with a chipped blade. A third carried a long spear, its tip sharpened to a cruel point.

One hand wielded a trident, its prongs twisted like fangs. Another grasped a heavy mace, engraved with cracked runes.

One held a sickle, thin and crescent-shaped.

Another clutched a dagger, short but vicious.

And one arm held a bow, the string carved so finely it looked ready to snap.

The remaining hands bore weapons just as terrifying, chains wrapped around stone fingers, a spiked flail, a war hammer, a halberd, a whip hardened like steel, a chakram with jagged edges, a scythe taller than Amon himself, and a broken shield etched with countless battle scars.

She was literally holding a weapons arsenal.

Amon's breath caught in his throat.

Around her neck hung countless necklaces made up of strings of skulls, both human and monstrous alike.

Some were small and cracked, others large with twisted horns still attached. They clinked softly in his imagination, as if whispering of slaughter long past.

She was dressed in a black stone outfit, carved to cling to her form like living shadow.

If that was not enough, the whole statue was pitch black except for the skull necklaces. Those skulls were white, the same color as real bones.

But it was her face that filled Amon with pure dread.

Her eyes were two pitch-black orbs, smooth and bottomless, reflecting no light from the torch. They felt as though they were staring straight into his soul.

And her mouth…

It was open.

From it extended a long tongue, grotesque and unnaturally detailed, hanging down all the way to her knees.

Amon felt a violent chill crawl up his spine.

This wasn't just a statue.

This was a goddess. Or something far worse.

"This…" Amon moved closer. The fire brightened the statue even more.

Thump—thump—thump.

His heart raced fast in fear.

This statue looked terrifying, dangerous, dark, and divine at the same time.

Amon continued to stare at the statue without muttering anything.

Never in his life had he seen something like this.

She looked completely opposite to the Goddess of Light.

She looked like someone made for battle. Made for chaos. Made to bring fear to everyone.

Amon somehow took out his pager with trembling hands.

He finally broke the silence. "Damn… why am I getting afraid of a statue… Tch!"

He clicked a few photos of it as well.

After taking them, Amon slowly moved out.

"Hah… I am really stuck in a weird place."

A thought came to his mind.

'Was she the Abyssal Goddess?'

Though there was a possibility of that, Amon couldn't be sure.

It wasn't like her images had ever been stored or printed in any books or history.

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