CHAPTER 431: PATHS

Apollo listened silently, ’Sacred Relic.’ He wondered what it could be but remained calm. He also felt the danger, but he also saw there are also extraordinary opportunities within it, so stopping here did feel right.

He glanced around. The other geniuses shared the same look in their eyes—caution yet filled with fierce determination. They hadn’t come to the God Ruins just to retreat when faced with risk.

Every one of them understood that Rion was on the brink of entering an unprecedented era—an age where old orders would collapse and only the strong would shape what came next.

And in such a world, hesitation meant extinction.

Lucifer raised his hand, his golden feather trembling as faint threads of light danced from it toward the sanctuary doors. "Let’s go," he said, voice steady but strained. "If we want the Sacred Relic, we must take it—no matter the cost."

With that said, all of them calmly walked within the sanctuary but with caution.

The moment they entered, they felt the difference, as although the place was filled with bright light and a holy aura, beneath it they felt a weird sense of unease that they couldn’t understand.

The group advanced cautiously. Even Lucifer’s confident walk had also slowed, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for any movement.

When they reached the wide circular chamber at the end of the path, they all halted.

At the very centre stood a colossal statue—a six-winged angel carved from flawless white stone. Though cracks marred its surface and one wing was half-shattered, the figure still radiated an overwhelming divinity. Its expression was serene yet distant, as if it were gazing at something far beyond their understanding.

"...A six-winged Seraph," Mastema whispered, his voice trembling with reverence and unease. "That’s a statue of one of the First Angels, the kind said to have served the Supreme Lord Himself..."

Lucifer stepped forward slowly, his gaze fixed on the broken angel. "Yes," he murmured. "But it seemed it wasn’t just a simple statue, yet for some reason it seemed to be in the worst state."

The golden feather that was in Lucifer’s hand at that moment suddenly started to glow.

"It’s reacting."

Then—

Boom!

The six-winged statue trembled violently, its once-frozen expression seeming almost alive. The faint cracks along its form widened, golden light leaking through like molten blood.

Suddenly—

Rumble...

The floor beneath their feet split apart, forming three massive passages that extended deep into the unknown. Each corridor pulsed with a different aura—

One burnt with divine golden light, radiating an intense sacred pressure.

Another seethed with cold darkness, whispering faint echoes of agony.

The last one shimmered faintly, cloaked in distortion, as though it didn’t fully exist within the same plane at all.

"What’s this...?" The Eternal God from the ancient dream clan muttered, gripping his weapon tighter. "Why are there three paths?"

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, the feather still glowing fiercely in his hand. "It’s responding to the relic," he said. "These must be the paths leading to the core of the Sanctuary. The relic might lies beyond them."

But Mastema frowned deeply, his expression grave. "No... it’s not that simple. These paths... I sense opposing laws. If we choose wrongly..."

The trembling of the sanctuary intensified. The angel statue’s eyes, cracked and hollow, suddenly flared open—one blazing with golden radiance, the other with crimson corruption.

Everyone felt their hearts tighten.

Apollo’s gaze sharpened. He felt the third one was the most dangerous one, but he had a strange feeling that within it was something that was important to him. The calling he felt should be from this way.

Lucifer turned to the group. "We’ll split up," he said, his tone commanding. "Each path must be explored. The relic we seek lies within one of them. Move carefully—and if you find it, activate your communication rune immediately."

Hearing this group of warriors have different reactions, but what was important for them was to choose one path among the three.

Although it was clear the sacred aura path was clearly the direct choice, they all know it wouldn’t be this simple, as sometimes what we see might not be the truth.

Each of them stood motionless, eyes locked on the three shimmering paths that had appeared before them. They exchanged glances, uncertainty reflected in every pair of eyes. Some clutched their weapons tighter; others closed their eyes, trying to feel which path resonated with their spirit.

"It can’t be the holy one," someone muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "It’s too... obvious."

"But if we’re wrong," another answered, "we may never come out again."

Their doubts lingered in the air, thick as the divine mist that cloaked the sanctuary. No one dared move first.

Seeing this, Lucifer made the first move as the people of the Sacred Light Empire followed him behind and chose the first path. They didn’t know if it was the right path or not, as they had to move forward.

Some among the group chose the second path, the gloomy and darker path, but no one chose the third path or dared to try this path.

It flickered and warped as though it didn’t exist, a rift in the sanctuary’s reality. The air around it was eerily still, yet every heartbeat felt heavier, every breath thinner. Even looking at it made the mind ache — like peering into something that should never be seen.

Everyone else averted their gaze. Even the strongest among the geniuses felt their hearts tremble whenever their eyes brushed past it. It wasn’t simply fear — it was instinct. The same primal terror from their blood and soul that warned creatures of death long before it arrived.

They seem to have forgotten the path as they turned away. The memory of it faded, slipping from their thoughts as if erased by an unseen power. Within moments, it was as if the third path had never been there at all.

Except for Apollo.

His gaze lingered on that unstable mysterious path, eyes gleaming faintly with starlight. He could feel it was calling to him; it felt like something resonating deep within his soul.