CHAPTER 190: EX 190: GOD’S TEMPLE III

The last of the trial beasts fell with a hiss, its body collapsing into the dust of the altar grounds. Silence returned, heavy and oppressive, broken only by the rough, uneven breaths of the elves who had fought tooth and blade at Racheal’s side.

She raised a hand, her emerald eyes sweeping across the weary faces of her cohort. "We’ll rest for twenty minutes," she ordered, her voice calm but edged with command. "Gather your energy. We still have much ahead of us."

The elves nodded wordlessly, too drained to speak, and scattered to their chosen spots, some slumping against jagged stones, others sinking cross-legged onto the cold ground, eyes already closing in focus.

Racheal herself walked toward the far corner where Jessica sat, the old elf matron whose silver hair spilled across her shoulders like a fading banner. Jessica’s eyes were shut, her face serene, as if the battle had been nothing more than a passing breeze. Racheal lingered by her side, lowering her voice.

"Do you think they’ll be ready when we reach the trial point?" she asked. Her gaze flicked to the others, seven loyal, but visibly exhausted elves.

For a while, Jessica didn’t stir. Then her lips moved, words spilling out soft and cryptic. "It’s not a matter of if, princess... but a matter of when."

Racheal blinked, caught off guard. ’Is she serious?’ Her brows drew together as a faint, steady rumble rose from the old elf’s throat. The unmistakable sound of snoring followed.

"Unbelievable," Racheal thought, a weary chuckle dying in her chest. "The old hag’s sleep talking again."

With a sigh, she let her back press against the cold wall, her body surrendering to the weight of her exhaustion. For the first time in hours, she allowed her mind to wander. ’Elaine...’ The name drifted through her thoughts like a whisper. ’I hope you’re watching me from wherever you are. Because right now, I don’t know if the path I’ve chosen is the right one.’

The moments bled together. The silence grew thick. Just as the pull of rest began to take her, a presence stirred at the edge of her senses. Her eyes snapped open, green irises flashing with alertness.

Standing before her was one of her followers, a lean elf draped in light armor, the faint trace of wind essence curling around his frame. He bowed slightly, his voice steady despite the exhaustion etched into his features.

"Princess, it’s time. We’re ready to move."

Racheal’s gaze swept across the group. The others had risen, blades cleaned, mana gathered. Even fatigue couldn’t strip them of their determination. Her eyes fell on Jessica, still slumped in her corner, lips parted slightly as though she were halfway between dreams and wakefulness.

Suppressing a sigh, Racheal crouched and laid a hand on the old elf’s shoulder. "We’re heading out," she said gently.

Jessica stirred, groaning as her eyes cracked open, bleary but sharp enough to find Racheal’s face. With a tired grunt, she pushed herself upright.

The princess straightened, squaring her shoulders. Ahead waited the altar’s trial point, its guardian, and the fate that lay beyond.

****

The elven cohort marched forward in tight formation, their boots crunching against the broken stone as they advanced toward the trial point. Trial beasts swarmed them in waves, claws and wings thrashing against polished armor, yet the elves pressed on with discipline born from centuries of training.

At the heart of their line stood Jessica. Though her hair was silvered and her body weathered with age, her presence commanded respect. She bore the title of warrior, a seasoned D-rank whose ordinary-ranked talent, Sleepwalker, gave her an uncanny edge. Once triggered, her conscious mind slipped into slumber, leaving her body to move on pure instinct. The drawback was obvious, when the state ended, she would collapse into unconsciousness, but while it lasted, her combat awareness sharpened to a razor’s edge.

A gargoyle-like beast dove at her with a screech, claws swinging down in a blur. Jessica’s eyes were closed, yet her spear moved with eerie precision. The strike was deflected, the beast stumbling past her. Before it could hit the ground, Jessica spun lightly on the ball of her foot, the spear flashing out. The steel tip plunged into the exposed nape of the creature, piercing through its weak point.

"Impressive..." Racheal thought, drawing back her bow. Her gaze lingered on Jessica with a trace of respect. Even with an ordinary-ranked talent, she fights like this?

For elves, talent rarity carried little prestige. Their race’s natural attunement to the trail resonance gave them higher chances of awakening rare talents, making "ordinary" talents unremarkable. Yet Jessica’s strength proved that power was not dictated by rarity alone. Why, then, was a contender for the throne of elves accompanied by only this level of guard? That was a question for elven politics, a web too tedious to unravel here. For now, it was better to watch the fight unfold.

"BOOM!"

The battlefield shook as Racheal loosed her final arrow. It streaked across the air like a shard of lightning, piercing the skull of a towering gargoyle. A violent explosion followed, shattering stone and sending the creature’s body crumpling lifelessly to the floor.

Silence descended at last. All around the cohort lay broken gargoyle corpses, their black blood soaking into the cracked altar ground. Ahead of them loomed a massive metal door, ancient and unyielding, marking the entrance to the trial point.

Racheal lowered her bow, her breathing steady. She looked upon the gate, her voice carrying with quiet resolve.

"We are finally here."

With that, she stepped forward. Her hands pressed against the cold steel, and with a grinding rumble, the gate creaked open. Beyond lay darkness, a threshold into the unknown. Without hesitation, Racheal strode inside, Jessica and the elven cohort following close behind.

****

While the elf cohort pressed through the great metal gates, the trial’s air trembling behind them, Leon and his squad arrived at the altar from another path. The stone dais loomed ahead, ancient carvings glowing faintly with runic light. But before anyone could step closer, Nikko’s eyes narrowed.

Her boots stilled against the stone, black hair catching the glow as her expression sharpened.

"...People have already entered,"

Her gaze drifted over the faint footprints pressed into the dust, but then she did more than look, she tilted her chin slightly and drew in the air through her nose, primal hunter flaring for the briefest instant. "And they aren’t human."

A silence followed, only the distant hum of the altar filling the void.

Leon stood beside her, as his blue eyes swept the altar’s runes. He had felt it too. But Nikko’s confirmation simply cemented it. He exhaled once, before speaking.

"Since the entrance is still open, it means they haven’t claimed ownership yet."

His tone wasn’t loud, but it carried enough weight to draw the attention of every member of his squad. A flicker of understanding passed through their expressions. They all knew what Leon meant. In the trial world, there were no rules of fairness. No "first come, first serve." The only law carved into stone here was strength.

And strength... was second nature to Leon