CHAPTER 511: SHACKLES IV

The statue’s hammer crashed down with no warning. The street cracked apart like thin glass, sending shockwaves through the air.

Leon pulled his friends back, shielding them with a flare of Shell Reverb. The blow landed where he had stood only a moment earlier, leaving a crater that burned faintly with white fire.

Naval bristled, raising his trident. "Together—"

"No." Leon’s voice cut sharp. He stepped forward, holding the gauntlet before him. His tone left no room for argument. "This is aimed at me. If you fight, the scale won’t count it."

Roselia’s lips parted as if to protest, but then she stopped. She felt it too—that strange pull from the statue’s faceless gaze. The judgment wasn’t spread across them. It weighed Leon alone.

The statue lifted its hammer again, slow but unstoppable, like a mountain shifting. The chains around its arms clinked and dragged, each movement echoing with a hollow clang that rattled through Leon’s chest.

Leon exhaled once. The fragments inside him pulsed—Tripart Echo, Absolute Return, Karmic Loop—all in resonance, like voices aligning in a choir. He set his stance.

When the hammer fell, he didn’t dodge.

Instead, he stepped forward into the rhythm, his Shell Pulse ringing. The strike bent, the force deflected and folded back on itself. The hammer slammed into the ground, but the recoil surged up its own arm, shattering several chains and sending cracks racing across the statue’s chest.

The others stared in silence.

The faceless giant reeled but did not stop. It swung the broken scale this time, the weight behind it enough to shear through stone towers.

Leon met it again, the pulse of his Shell catching the movement and returning it. The scale twisted mid-swing, smashing into the giant’s own ribs. Stone fragments rained down, the sound like shattering bells.

But even as it broke, the statue’s hollow voice filled the streets:

"First weight... accepted."

The hammer dissolved into dust. The shattered scale crumbled away. The giant itself bowed slowly before collapsing into rubble, chains melting back into the street.

The mist stirred. The labyrinth shifted. A new road opened toward the inner spires.

Leon straightened, his gauntlet dimming. His breath was steady, but his expression was grim.

"That was only the first."

The others fell into silence, following him as the city rearranged again.

The path wound upward, twisting through arches of broken stone that seemed to knit themselves together only as Leon’s group approached. The mist thinned, revealing a vast courtyard ahead.

At its center stood not one, but two statues. Both were faceless like the first, their bodies wrapped in chains. One carried a colossal sword that gleamed as if freshly forged, the other a set of scales that flickered with shifting weights.

The air pressed heavier than before. Naval clenched his trident until his knuckles whitened. "Two this time... figures."

Milim tilted her head, wings twitching. "They’re waiting. Like judges who already know the verdict."

Roselia’s hand brushed Leon’s arm gently. "It’s you again. The pull hasn’t changed."

Leon nodded. He felt it in his bones—both statues were locked onto his resonance. The trial had narrowed to him alone, no matter how much his team wanted to fight beside him.

The sword-bearing giant moved first. It raised its blade high, and the ground dimmed beneath its shadow. At the same time, the other giant tilted its scales. The weights shifted, and suddenly Leon felt his body drag, as though his very existence was being measured and deemed too heavy.

His knees bent under the crushing pressure.

The sword fell.

Leon flared his Shell Reverb—Tripart Echo rippled, catching the edge of the weight pressing him down. The strain split and echoed, lessening the pull enough for him to move. His gauntlet burned as he thrust upward, colliding with the falling blade.

The impact split the air. The sword’s force ricocheted, carving a canyon through the far wall of the courtyard.

But the scale tilted again. The weight doubled. Leon’s chest constricted, his vision blurring at the edges. His Shell wanted to break apart under the dual strain.

"Leon!" Roman bellowed, stepping forward.

Leon raised a hand without looking back. "Stay. This is mine."

The two statues moved together now—the sword swinging low, the scale tilting higher. The pull dragged him toward the strike, trying to pin him into the path of death.

Leon gritted his teeth. His Shell layers screamed inside him, tearing at his veins. He drew on them anyway.

Absolute Return—the tilt of the scales wrenched back, its pull snapping against itself.

Karmic Loop—the sword’s swing staggered, slowed by the echo of its own beginning.

Tripart Echo—his gauntlet thrummed, multiplying his strike threefold.

Leon drove his fist forward.

The sword shattered into fragments. The scales cracked down the middle. Both giants reeled, chains snapping loose, stone splintering.

Their hollow voices rose together, overlapping, echoing through the ruined city:

"Second weight... accepted."

The statues fell. Dust spread across the courtyard.

And from the mist ahead, another stairway revealed itself, climbing toward the spire that glimmered faintly like a blade piercing the sky.

Leon steadied his breath. His body screamed with pain, but his resolve only hardened.

"That’s two."

The stairs wound higher, the air thinning, each step heavier than the last. The mist was nearly gone now, replaced by a stillness so sharp it felt like walking inside a held breath.

At the top, the group entered a wide hall. No broken stones this time. No moss or ruin. The chamber was pristine, untouched by time, its floor polished until it reflected them like a mirror.

And waiting there—

Three statues.

One carried a spear, its tip resting lightly on the ground.

Another bore a shield larger than its body, etched with runes that pulsed faintly.

The last one held nothing at all, its chained hands empty, its faceless head tilted as though listening.

The silence pressed on them. It wasn’t threatening at first—it was expectant, patient.

Leon stepped forward, his pulse hammering. He felt the pull again, stronger than before. The shard’s resonance linked him directly to all three statues at once.

Naval muttered under his breath, "...Three this time. It’s climbing with you."

Roselia squeezed Leon’s arm, her voice tight. "Don’t push too far. You’re already burning from the last one."

Leon’s reply was quiet, but firm. "...If I stop here, we never reach the Throne."

The moment his words faded, the statues moved.

The spear thrust forward, a blur faster than sight, splitting the air in a line of death.

The shield raised, and the entire chamber shifted—gravity pulling sideways, dragging Leon toward its wall of inevitability.

And the empty one simply... whispered. A soundless echo that wormed straight into Leon’s mind, unraveling his thoughts like tangled thread.

Pain lanced through his skull. His body dragged toward the shield. The spear was already coming, aimed straight for his chest.

Leon forced his Shell to flare. Tripart Echo layered into Absolute Return, then Karmic Loop—three rhythms colliding at once. His fist met the spear, breaking its thrust into fragments of slowed time. His gauntlet sparked, burning his arm to the bone, but the spear did not pierce him.

The shield’s pull slammed against him next. He countered with Absolute Return again, forcing the gravity back on itself. The statue staggered as the weight rebounded, its own shield dragging it downward.

But the whisper—

The whisper kept unraveling him.

Leon’s knees buckled. He saw not one world, but dozens. Not one path, but a hundred splintering from his feet. The Requiem pulsed, eager to fracture further, to tear apart the judgment itself.

"No..." he hissed through gritted teeth. "Not yet. Not here."

He seized Karmic Loop again, forcing the whisper to echo backward into its own beginning. The unraveling slowed, threads pulling taut again. His mind burned, blood leaking from his nose, but he held it together.

The three statues pressed harder, their attacks overlapping now.

Leon roared, unleashing the Fifth Pulse just enough—Fracture Requiem. The chamber shattered into splintering outcomes. The spear froze mid-thrust, the shield cracked under its own rebound, and the whisper broke into fragments of silence.

All three statues convulsed, chains snapping. Their voices rose in unison:

"Third weight... carried."

The chamber collapsed into dust. A new stairway opened, spiraling upward into the heart of the spire, where light shone like a second sun.

Leon dropped to one knee, trembling, blood dripping freely down his arms and face. His Shell burned like a fire too close to consuming its vessel.

Roselia knelt beside him instantly. "Leon—"

"I’m fine." His voice was raw but steady. He forced himself upright, staring at the stairs. His resolve cut through the pain. "...The next one is the Throne itself."