CHAPTER 386: FAYLITH AND ESCAPE

Lily was the first to find her voice.

"Wait a second... does that mean you are technically a mortal now? A human just like us?"

Arachne cocked her head slightly but did not deny it. Annoyance flickered across her pale face, though she kept her voice steady. "Gather as much as you can and then we must leave. The guards will surely notice something is wrong any second..."

Her words carried urgency, but her eyes betrayed hesitation. She scanned the chamber, sharp and restless, searching for any possible escape. There were no cracks in the walls, no hidden alcoves, nothing but the oppressive stone and the echo of their own breathing.

Aria shifted uncomfortably, wings twitching as her gaze darted toward the sealed entrance. "We cannot fight our way out of here if they come. There is no cover and no time to prepare."

Luna’s ears twitched nervously, her tail swishing behind her as she crouched low. "So what do we do? We cannot just stand here waiting for them to storm in."

Adam, still wincing from where Arachne had yanked his ear, swallowed hard. "Maybe... maybe the orb can do something else? It already brought you back, right?"

Arachne cut him a sharp look that silenced him immediately. "You meddle with what you do not understand, child. The orb has already done what it must. There will be no second miracle."

Leo’s hands clenched at his sides, his frustration clear. "Then we are trapped. Unless one of you has a trick you have been hiding, we are cornered."

The silence that followed was heavier than before, broken only by the faint rattle of Arachne’s chains as her discarded shell finally collapsed into dust.

Lily’s voice was soft, but it carried an edge of desperation. "If there really is no way out, then we need to make one. Otherwise, all of this... all of her sacrifice... will mean nothing."

Arachne’s gaze narrowed. She did not speak right away, her lips pressed thin as her pale form trembled slightly, still unsteady in her mortal state. At last she muttered, "Then pray your stubbornness really is inherited, Adam. Because now... we must carve a path with nothing but our will."

A jarring and grating noise suddenly filled the chamber, echoing against the black stone walls. The sound was sharp and accusatory, slicing through the tension like a blade. It carried a single word, repeated over and over, each syllable dripping with malice. "Arachne... why... oh why... would you harm yourself so..."

Arachne’s eyes widened and she bared her teeth, an instinctive hiss escaping her lips. She had not expected him to arrive so soon. "Faylith," she spat, her voice low but fierce, her body tensing instinctively.

Adam’s brows furrowed. "Who... who are you talking about?"

Her glare sharpened, and she answered without hesitation. "Faylith. He is the God of Fate. My jailor. The one who tortured me for countless cycles."

Luna’s tail flicked nervously as she tightened her grip on her axe, scowling. "The hell is a God of Fate? And why does he sound pissed?"

Adam felt a surge of bloodlust rise within him at the mention of the name, his fists twitching as a deep growl threatened to escape his throat. Arachne’s hand shot out and gripped his shoulder, steadying him. "Do not act rashly, child. We are not in a position to challenge him directly. Not now."

The grating laughter of Faylith filled the hall once more. The air seemed to tremble as he moved, grotesque and enormous, rounding the corner with deliberate steps. His eyes locked on the place where Arachne’s divine shell had been chained. Fury warped his features, the absence of control eating at him.

Arachne’s shoulders sagged slightly as despair threatened to wash over her. The moment stretched, tense and suffocating, until a melodic laughter cut through the oppressive atmosphere.

From Leo’s chest, a surge of purplish-black energy erupted, spreading rapidly outward. The aura wrapped around Adam, Arachne, Lily, Luna, and Aria, cocooning them in its light. It pressed gently yet firmly, an irresistible pull that lifted them from the stone floor. In an instant, the group vanished from the Hall of Judgment, leaving only silence and dust behind.

Faylith froze mid-step. His massive eyes darted around the chamber, searching, probing, attempting to detect even a trace of movement or presence. The cages remained suspended in their golden ichor, prisoners trembling and bleeding as before, yet the one he sought was gone.

His massive hands flexed, claws scraping the stone, and a low growl rumbled from deep within his chest. He could feel the absence of Arachne, yet no hint remained of where she had gone or how she had escaped. Rage and disbelief fought for dominance in his mind. He had not anticipated such audacity, such defiance.

Faylith’s gaze returned to the empty space where her chains had rattled. The dust of her shattered divine shell swirled faintly, yet it provided no answers. The golden ichor ran into the runes below, oblivious to his frustration. Every instinct screamed that she should have been there, yet the reality mocked him.

He stepped closer to the empty space, eyes narrowing. His massive shoulders tensed as he exhaled, a hiss of air that seemed to shake the walls. "Impossible," he muttered, voice low and venomous. He reached out, as if he could summon her back by sheer will, but only empty space met his claws.

Faylith turned slowly, pacing the hall with deliberate steps. His grotesque form cast long shadows across the walls, his eyes scanning the cages, the chains, the golden ichor, yet nothing betrayed the presence of the escaped group. His mind churned with frustration, a rare sensation that unsettled him more than any physical blow could.

He stopped at the midpoint of the chamber, jaw tight, claws flexing. The absence of Arachne gnawed at him, a hollow ache that refused to be ignored. She had vanished, and with her disappearance, his control, however tenuous, had been challenged.

Faylith’s eyes flicked to every cage in the hall. The prisoners remained, suspended in suffering, yet his focus remained on the empty space, on the lost divine. A cold irritation settled over him, sharper than any anger he had ever known. How had she dared defy him so completely?

After a long moment of silent fury, he let out a low growl and turned. His massive form moved with measured, deliberate steps toward the exit, eyes still scanning, every instinct on edge. He would not forget this absence. He would seek her, punish her, reclaim what had slipped from his grasp.

Yet for now, Faylith left the Hall of Judgment, unaware that the group he sought had successfully disappeared, escaping entirely from his sight. The golden ichor continued to flow, the chains clinked faintly in the still air, and the hall remained, silent and undisturbed except for the one absence that mattered most.