Veylan’s breath came in ragged gasps, his body surging forward with every step, fueled by the golden light that wrapped around him. His golden robe, once pristine, was now torn and stained with dirt and sweat, clinging to his skin as he pushed himself forward.

  His hands trembled as he tore another talisman from within his robe.

  Rip.

  The sacred parchment dissolved into golden particles, surging into his muscles, pushing his body beyond its limits once more. A burst of divine light propelled him forward, sending shockwaves through the ground as he sprinted at inhuman speed.

  The terrain blurred past him, the distant horizon barely coming into focus before it shifted away again. Faster. Faster. Faster.

  His mind burned with indignation. That thing… That abomination… That mockery of life!

  He had never felt such disgrace—to be forced into retreat while his men were crushed under that unspeakable force. He clenched his jaw so hard it nearly cracked.

  Saintess Tasha had entrusted them with this mission—to investigate the Abyss, to ensure no unholy creature had survived.

  And yet…

  What they found was beyond their worst nightmares.

  A creature that defied divine law.

  A being that could casually dismantle an entire battalion of Holy Scouts as though they were nothing.

  Veylan bit the inside of his cheek, tasting blood.

  That thing had lifted Vice Captain Arthus with ease, like a predator inspecting its prey. He could still hear Arthus’ defiant voice, the last words he uttered before he lost consciousness.

  "I… will not fall to you, beast."

  He should have stayed, should have fought alongside his men… But he had no choice.

  His duty outweighed his personal shame.

  If he didn’t reach the Holy Church in time, the creature would continue unchallenged. More lives would be lost.

  So he ran.

  Talisman after talisman, burning through them recklessly. The Holy Church was still miles away, but he would make it—he had to.

  And when he arrived…

  He would make sure the entire world knew.

  Far behind the fleeing Veylan, Eo hovered motionlessly in the air, his many eyes reflecting the dim glow of the unconscious golden-robed man in his grasp.

  The man's body was limp, yet his breathing remained steady. Even in unconsciousness, there was an aura of stubborn resistance about him, as though his very being refused to submit.

  Eo found it… interesting.

  He began to move.

  Slowly, deliberately, he descended toward the ground, his steps silent, his tentacles shifting smoothly as he carried his newly acquired test subject.

  His direction was clear—the Magical Academy.

  Or rather, the underground chamber beneath it.

  He had planned to return there immediately to continue his experiments. However, as he moved, his peripheral vision caught something.

  Two figures, still groveling in the dirt.

  Caelum and Frid.

  The two men lay at the very center of the now-inactive Abyss Prison Formation, their bodies trembling from the residual effects of his power.

  Eo paused.

  His mind calculated swiftly.

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  Two men—both of them capable, if unstable.

  Twenty-five golden-robed humans still scattered across the battlefield, either unconscious or immobilized.

  He turned his gaze toward Caelum.

  “Gather them. Bring them below.”

  A visible shudder ran through Caelum’s frame before his body reacted. A surge of joy bloomed across his expression, his eyes lighting up with devotion as he bowed deeply.

  "As you command, my Lord."

  Without hesitation, he turned and moved immediately, his body weaving through the battlefield like a specter as he began gathering the unconscious Holy Scouts.

  Frid, however, remained still for a moment, his wide deranged grin stretching further as he let out a low cackle.

  His laughter echoed unnaturally across the silent battlefield.

  Then he spoke.

  "What about the three extras? Aelith, Thorne, and Antru… Should I… play with them?"

  His voice dripped with malice, his tone laced with unspoken sadism.

  Eo had almost forgotten about them.

  He tilted his head slightly.

  The three had been restrained separately earlier, left to rot in their own self-loathing. They were not his priority, but neither were they useless.

  His gaze did not waver.

  "Take them as well."

  Frid’s grin stretched wider, his laughter growing unhinged.

  "Hehehe… As you wish."

  He skipped away rather than walked, his movements disturbingly childlike as he vanished into the distance to retrieve the three prisoners.

  Eo watched him go, his thoughts already shifting back to more important matters.

  The humans had brought something new to his understanding—a miniature formation embedded into a talisman.

  This revelation would serve as a stepping stone.

  His mind already constructed theories, possible applications, ways he could implement it into his evolving body.

  Yet there was something else.

  Something that lingered at the back of his thoughts.

  Faith.

  It had always been an abstract concept to him, a force bound to belief rather than logic. Yet, the golden warriors had wielded it as though it were something tangible.

  Even now, Arthus' body still faintly radiated the lingering traces of divine energy.

  Perhaps…

  Perhaps faith was not just belief.

  Perhaps it, too, had structure.

  And if something had structure, then it could be understood.

  Eo’s grip on Arthus tightened slightly as he resumed walking.

  Tonight, he would begin dissecting faith itself.

  And in doing so…

  He would find a way to control it.

  The underground chamber was as vast as he remembered—a relic of the past, hidden beneath the ruins of the Magical Academy. Dust clung to the air, drifting in silent spirals as Eo stepped inside, the weight of centuries pressing upon the ancient walls.

  The chamber was built to hold knowledge, evident from the towering bookshelves that lined the edges, filled with decayed tomes and forgotten manuscripts. Stone pillars, cracked and eroded, supported the ceiling high above, where faintly glowing inscriptions flickered like dying embers.

  At its center lay a space large enough to house a hundred humans, but the passage of time had reduced much of its structure to ruin. The floor was uneven, broken stones littering the ground, and the furniture—once grand—had long since turned to dust.

  Eo’s gaze swept across the chamber. There were no adequate surfaces to place the unconscious golden-robed man.

  A minor inconvenience.

  With a simple thought, he commanded the earth to rise.

  The stone trembled, shifting like a living organism, molding itself into a smooth, flat platform—a bed of solid rock, cool and unyielding. He placed Vice Captain Arthus upon it, his golden robes stained and torn, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

  Even now, Eo could sense the lingering traces of divine energy clinging to the man's form, like embers refusing to fade.

  Faith…

  A concept once irrelevant to him, now a mystery demanding to be unraveled.

  He took a step back, his tendrils curling thoughtfully. Before he could delve deeper into his studies, his attention shifted to his own form. His robes—or rather, the makeshift attire he had taken from the vice-captain—were slightly disheveled from the battle. As he adjusted them, his fingers brushed against something hidden within the folds of fabric.

  A subtle resistance.

  Something thin, yet sturdy.

  He reached in and retrieved several talismans, tucked neatly into an inner pocket.

  His many eyes flickered with interest.

  Each talisman bore intricate engravings, but they were not identical. The previous ones he had witnessed burned with divine light, amplifying the physical strength of their users. Yet these…

  The outline of the formations was different.

  One had flowing curves, its symbols weaving together in an elegant pattern, while another had rigid, sharp lines, almost mathematical in their precision.

  "Do they possess different effects?"

  A question formed—a simple yet profound inquiry.

  Eo turned them over, observing every minute detail, his analytical mind already forming hypotheses. If the Holy Church had developed multiple variants of these talismans, then their usage extended beyond mere enhancements.

  Perhaps some were for protection, others for offense.

  Or perhaps… they contained entire spells—precast formations sealed into physical form.

  His interest deepened.

  The very existence of these talismans suggested a method of storing and releasing energy at will. A concept that, if understood fully, could be replicated—or even improved.

  But first, he needed more data.

  And what better test subject than the very man who had wielded them?

  His gaze drifted back to Arthus, still unconscious upon the stone platform.

  He would begin his dissections soon.

  But before that…

  Eo’s tendrils tightened around the talismans in his grasp, his mind surging with possibilities.

  He had just uncovered a new path of knowledge—one that could bring him closer to unraveling the secrets of faith itself.