CHAPTER 430: SANCTUARY

He was at ease, but for others it was a completely different matter, as every single angel guard had such terrifying strength, and there were many who didn’t even reach the true god realm. For them, every single one of these angels was a terrifying enemy.

Cries and explosions filled the ruins. The sacred light burnt against the distorted sky, overwhelming weaker cultivators one after another.

And then—seven of the guardian angels moved in unison. Their wings spread wide, divine runes shimmering across their armour as their halos pulsed in rhythm. The air trembled as their combined aura linked together—forming a celestial formation.

That formation locked onto the Eternal God Realm warriors.

Even they, beings who once stood above countless lives, now felt their scalps tingle and hearts sink under the crushing divine pressure.

Lucifer and Michael were also under attack, but just as they were under attack, a golden energy seemed to come out from them and protected them from any attacks.

"Why is this happening? Stop listening. I am the prince, from a proud bloodline of the supreme lord. Immediately stop your attacks." Instantly saying this, he activated his blood that seemed to radiate a sacred aura.

But these guardian angels didn’t seem to hear it and continued their assault. The guardian angels raised their glowing swords once more, striking down with a judgemental light.

"Mastema!" Lucifer roared, blocking a beam of light that cracked his golden barrier. "Why aren’t they stopping? Do something!"

The late-stage Eternal God elder, Mastema, was already struggling under the pressure of three celestial formations. His face was grim, his divine armour shattered in places as he deflected blow after blow.

"I’m trying, Your Highness!" he bellowed, his aura exploding like a storm. "But these are not ordinary guardians—they appear to be remnants of the Heavenly Order! For some reason their consciousnesses are long gone—they only obey the ancient law!"

The battle around was intense, and Genius, due to their low cultivation realm, started to bring out their trump cards.

The gathered people here weren’t ordinary; they all had some kind of trump card, whether it was special treasure or a powerful runic amulet. They were geniuses from ancient clans, so even when they faced powerful angels, they were able to hold themselves; otherwise, they wouldn’t dare to come.

Apollo and the few at the peak of the true god realm were in a much easier situation; still, this let him see the depth of these geniuses.

Then it happened.

Mastema’s eyes burnt with fury and divine light. "Enough!" he thundered, his voice resonating like a celestial command. In that instant, the ground quaked, and his suppressed aura erupted. The two angelic formations surrounding him were forced backward, their luminous wings flickering under the pressure of his unleashed might.

Then, spreading his arms, he began to chant in an ancient tongue—the sound deep, resonant, and almost unbearable to mortal ears. Each syllable seemed to twist the surrounding light, warping space itself.

A blinding light suddenly seemed to envelop every angel guardian. For a brief moment, it was as if the heavens themselves had descended. Every guardian angel froze mid-strike—their glowing swords halted in the air, wings spread wide like sculptures of divine light.

Then, the radiance dimmed. One by one, their movements ceased entirely. The angels stood still, lifeless yet majestic, transformed into statues of gold and light, their holy aura lingering like echoes of a fading hymn.

Seeing this, everyone takes a sigh of relief, as it seems they somehow survived.

"finally stopped."

"Damn, I already used most of the treasures."

Many geniuses started to chatter as they were all on the edge, as even with special treasures it wasn’t easy for them.

Lucifer turned toward the elder, his expression dark. "Mastema, can you tell why this happened? Why didn’t they stop?"

"It’s difficult to tell, but I just used the secret incantation of the clan which forcefully shut them down. However, it seems our journey wouldn’t be easy, as everything here might have gotten out of control."

He can guess it wasn’t going to be as simple as it seems; the land is beyond their control.

"Prince," Mastema said, his voice heavy with resolve, "no matter what happens, we must open it."

Lucifer’s expression hardened. "Agreed."

He once again took out the golden feather and began to chant a sacred prayer. A radiant light of divine purity spread from the feather, blanketing the ruined land.

In response, the ground beneath them began to tremble violently — and slowly, an enormous ancient sanctuary emerged, tearing its way up through the earth.

The sanctuary slowly rose from the parted earth, its grand silhouette towering like a monument from a forgotten era. The structure was majestic—its walls gleamed faintly with golden light, and countless ancient runes shimmered across its surface. A sacred aura washed over the land, making the hearts of many tremble in awe.

But the awe didn’t last.

Almost instantly, the pure holy sacred energy in the air twisted—warped—turning heavy and suffocating. But suddenly waves of corruption surged out from the sanctuary’s depths, thick and cold, like a deadly beast through the air. The holy light dimmed, tainted by a sinister and eerie presence.

Everyone body stiffened. That sacred holy aura which at first appear to sooth their souls now immediately felt mixed with death and despair. The clash of divinity and decay created an unbearable pressure that made even the strongest true gods shiver.

"Wh–what is this...?" Someone muttered, their voice trembling.

Apollo’s eyes narrowed. He could sense it clearly—two opposing powers sealed within the sanctuary, divine and demonic, endlessly devouring each other. But besides that, he also felt a mysterious calling that he might need something within it.

Lucifer and Mastema also had grave expressions, as it appeared something terrible had happened in their sacred sanctuary.

"This isn’t supposed to happen," Lucifer muttered through clenched teeth.

Mastema’s face darkened, his golden eyes burning with tension. "No," he said lowly, "something went wrong here long ago. The purity of the sanctuary has been disturbed. But—" his gaze hardened—"we cannot turn back now."

"What lies within is the sacred relic. Without it, the Sacred Light Empire cannot rise when the Age of Destruction begins."