CHAPTER 395: MYSTERIOUS STATUE

"Come follow me to the ancestral land." An elder from the Titanbone clan led the forty geniuses to the ancestral land.

His long robes trailed behind him like flowing shadows as he turned and started to move deeper into the hallowed grounds. Knowing that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the forty selected geniuses followed in silence, their faces solemn.

The path they took was hidden from public view, winding past colossal stone gates, ancient murals carved into the mountain walls, and towering statues of long-forgotten Titans. This was a place very few ever set foot in—a sacred domain reserved for the lineage of the Titanbone Clan and those deemed worthy by the Titan Will.

As the group disappeared into the mist-veiled depths of the ancestral land, the crowd outside could only watch in silence, left to wonder who among those forty would be acknowledged by the great Titan God... and what kind of transformation they might undergo.

Just as the group vanished into the ancestral land, Apollo turned slightly toward Thomas and his guardian, his voice low and calm.

Apollo said something to Thomas and his guardian and seemed to disappear in the void without anyone noticing.

Like the coiled spine of an ancient beast, the path led into the ancestral land. On either side, towering walls of black stone loomed, carved with primordial images of Titans engaged in never-ending combat, gods bowing their heads, and galaxies collapsing under powerful fists. As though the land itself were observing, a thick, stifling pressure hung in the air.

The elder led the forty selected geniuses farther into the hallowed ground, and their footsteps reverberated against the stone in an odd rhythm—thud, thud, thud—as if they were being led by an invisible heartbeat.

Finally, the narrow canyon opened up.

Before them lay an awe-inspiring basin surrounded by cliffs so high they scraped the heavens. However, at the centre of the basin stood a small, about six-foot statue that appeared to be completely different from the thirty-six statues from outside.

It didn’t have any powerful aura of Titan’s; in fact, it just looked like an old ordinary statue with fine cracks that can be seen in every old noble castle, making them feel confused.

Whispers rippled among the gathered geniuses.

"...Is this... really part of the sacred land?"

"Looks like something out of a ruined chapel..."

"Why would they place something so ordinary in the most sacred place of the Titanbone Clan?"

Even the geniuses who had awakened multiple Titans’ Wills earlier hesitated to speak too loudly. The silence of the place seemed to reject arrogance.

Only Apollo, still hidden in the void, narrowed his eyes.

His vision pierced deeper than the surface. Though the statue gave no sign of life, he saw something strange—the space around it was distorted, gently warping like ripples in a pond.

A layer of illusion, faint as spider silk, covered its base. And deeper still, a breath—so faint that even eternal god’s divine sense might miss it—throbbed within the statue’s chest, like the sleeping heartbeat of something impossibly ancient.

’That... thing is not ordinary,’ he thought. ’It might not even be a statue.’

Just then, the elder’s expression subtly changed. For a brief second, there was something in his eyes—a flash of fear... or reverence.

"Come, sit in front of the statue of the great lord." The elder quickly said with mixed reverence and excitement in his voice.

The geniuses were confused about who this great lord was. Didn’t they come here for the blessing of the great ancestral Titan? But although they were a bit confused, they still followed the elder of the Titanbone clan.

They didn’t think even the great Titanbone Clan would dare to mess with the genius from half of the northern continent.

All of them followed the elder’s command and sat around the small old statue.

One by one, they followed the elder’s command and sat in a circle around the small, cracked statue. The basin fell silent once more, as if the very air was holding its breath. A subtle pressure—barely perceptible, like the stillness before a thunderstorm—began to build.

None of them knew what was about to begin.

"Begin," the elder intoned solemnly.

The moment the word left his mouth, the ground around each genius lit up with intricate runes—ancient symbols etched in a language none of them recognised. Glowing circles of light spiralled outward, drawn with energies older than memory itself. The runes shimmered in shades of gold, crimson, and deep violet, casting eerie shadows across their faces.

Before the geniuses could react or even question what was happening, the runic circles flared violently—then surged upward like a dome of light, encasing each of them in an isolated world.

Their eyes widened, but no scream escaped. One after another, their bodies stiffened. Minds dulled. Senses faded. The basin was silent once more.

From the outside, they looked like statues themselves—frozen in a trance, unmoving and silent.

Only the elder remained unaffected, watching them with a complex expression—part hope, part filled with fanatic expression.

Far above, hidden deep in the folds of space, Apollo’s eyes flickered with light. He narrowed his gaze as he studied the runes more carefully. But the more he looked, the gloomier his expression became.

Because he slowly started to see the truth, and just as he prepared to make his move, tearing through space to intervene—

A calm, ancient voice echoed beside him, so sudden and close that it froze him in place.

"Don’t be so hasty," the voice said.

Apollo turned sharply, his pupils contracting.

The old broken statue that appeared to be nothing instantly turned mysterious. The stone statue seemed to open his eyes and slowly started to move.

No blinding aura. No explosion of might. Just a slow, eerie motion—stone grinding against stone—as if time itself had been rewound for a single moment.

The great statue that everyone had ignored now emanated an oppressive presence, not through sheer force, but through stillness. Its gaze swept across the basin, passing through all barriers, locking directly onto Apollo.

"You see more than you should, kid," the voice said again—deeper now, resonant and ancient, as if echoing from the very bones of the world.