At the moment Elena made her decision, the fragility born from grief vanished without a trace from her body, replaced by the decisiveness and authority befitting a High Priestess.
She turned to Lin En and his group, a complex emotion flashing deep within her obsidian eyes.
“Follow me. Be prepared. What you are about to face is the strongest barrier of my people.”
Before her words had even faded, her figure shot forward like a black bolt merging into the shadows, dashing down a distinctly different corridor deep within the Ruins.
Elaine and Fiona immediately followed, while Lin En maintained a steady, unhurried pace, always keeping a fixed distance from Elena.
But soon, the scene ahead opened up, sweeping away the uneasy atmosphere in the air, replaced by a cold, iron-blooded aura mingled with the scent of steel and fire.
This was the territory of the Enders.
A vast underground space had been transformed into a stern Armory and Training Ground, where countless Dark Elf warriors clad in Obsidian Heavy Armor and wielding sharp blades trained in silent efficiency.
Each of their gazes was like a blade tempered by fire—sharp, focused, and disciplined.
Here, there was no sorrow, only the ceaseless machinery preparing for the final battle.
“Magis… What kind of person is he?”
Elaine asked Elena in a low voice, braving the invisible pressure around them.
“Warchief Magis is the oldest and most powerful warrior of our people.”
Elena replied, moving swiftly without turning her head.
“To imprison the Flesh Broodmother, he and his family sacrificed everything. He hates the Flesh Broodmother more than anyone, but he is also more… stubborn than anyone.”
A deep worry laced her words.
“He firmly believes the only way out is to gather strength and, at the right moment, burn the entire Homeland and that Broodmother to ashes! He will see you as the greatest threat, because your appearance is the most unstable variable outside his plans.”
At that moment, Lin En, who had been silent, suddenly spoke.
“The Lord of Boundaries you worship is called the Dark God in the outside world. What does He represent?”
Elena’s footsteps paused slightly, as if surprised by Lin En’s curiosity at such a time.
She explained in a deep voice:
“That is merely the name used by the ignorant. Darkness is not evil, but the ultimate form of isolation and independence. The Lord of Boundaries is not a specific deity, but the origin of our philosophy. He represents the boundary between self and the outside world—where there is a boundary, individuality exists.”
“He represents the separation of matter and void—where there is separation, order exists. He represents the definition of existence and non-existence—where there is definition, all things have meaning.”
“What we worship is this absolute independence and clarity. It is the very root of our resistance against the Flesh Broodmother’s assimilation.”
Lin En nodded thoughtfully, saying no more.
During their conversation, they had already arrived before the grand fortress at the end.
This was the Sanctuary of War.
The entire fortress was constructed from massive, unpolished Obsidian, its sharp edges exuding a cold geometric beauty.
Two towering elite warriors blocked the path with crossed long spears, their emotionless eyes the only part visible beneath their helmets.
“High Priestess,”
one of the guards rumbled, his voice deep as a bell,
“The Warchief is resonating with the Sacred Relic. No outsiders are permitted, especially… them.”
The guard’s gaze landed openly on Lin En and Elaine.
Elena was about to force her way through as High Priestess when a steadier, more imposing voice echoed from deep within the hall, carrying the metallic ring of authority.
“Let them in.”
The long spears slowly parted, and the heavy hall doors creaked open.
A wave of power and endless battle intent surged out.
Inside, the hall was vast and grand, with two rows of Dark Elf elites wielding giant axes standing on either side.
They were Magis’ core Honor Guard, each emanating an overwhelming aura that could make even a giant beast tremble.
At the very apex of the hall, upon a throne carved from a single block of Obsidian, sat a figure.
He was the Warchief, Magis.
An extraordinarily robust elder Dark Elf.
Time had whitened his long hair, but could not erode the rock-like definition of his muscles.
He wore no helmet, revealing a face as chiseled as if carved by blade and axe, with several scars crossing it. Rather than diminishing his presence, they added a chilling edge of one who had survived countless battles.
His gaze was sharp as an eagle’s, as if piercing to the deepest secrets of the heart.
His eyes swept over Elena before locking firmly onto Lin En and Elaine behind her.
“High Priestess Elena,”
Magis’ voice was heavy as a mountain,
“You risked breaking the taboos to bring outsiders to the heart of the Sanctuary. You had best give me a reason that can convince me. Otherwise, even you must pay for today’s transgression.”
Elena took a deep breath, about to speak.
However, Lin En moved first.
He believed that arguing with such a man was the most inefficient course of action.
He gave Elaine a look.
Though the aged Royal Alchemist’s legs were still a bit unsteady, thinking of the Prince’s fate and this sole chance before him, he summoned all his courage.
Braving the hall’s crushing pressure, he stepped forward, trembling hands lifting high the Alchemical Box forged from Obsidian and silver metal, then opening it.
The moment the withered aura, sealed by layers of energy fields and drained of life, was exposed to the air.
Buzz!
It was as if an invisible bomb had been dropped into the throne hall.
All the Enders warriors, including Magis himself, felt a resonance from the depths of their souls—a power absolutely akin to their own, yet that should not exist in this place.
On the throne, Magis’ mountain-like frame shook violently.
For the first time, shock and confusion he could not conceal appeared in his hawk-sharp eyes.
He sprang to his feet, cracks showing in his ever-icy expression for the first time.
He did not roar, did not question, did not even deny.
He simply stared fixedly at the fragment, as if seeing the most impossible thing in the world.
His silence was more oppressive than any fury, seeming to freeze the air of the entire hall.
His soul, which had resonated with the Sacred Relic for centuries, made him unmistakably sure that the aura emanating from the sealed box was that of the Sacred Relic itself—absolutely of the same source, undeniably real.
Impossible.
Yet it had truly happened.
He stood frozen, plunged into a vast and incomprehensible confusion.
To guard the Isolated Remains was the highest honor and duty of his family and himself—it should have been enshrined whole behind him.
The Enders elites in the hall, sensing their Warchief’s soul shudder and seeing the Sacred Relic’s aura displayed by “outsiders,” instinctively placed their hands on their weapons as killing intent spread.
“Don’t move!”
Magis’ voice was hoarse and low as he restrained his subordinates, his gaze never leaving the box.
In the deathly silence, Elaine’s voice trembled out, filled with barely suppressed grief and rage.
“Warchief… You recognize it, don’t you?”
He did not wait for Magis’ answer, continuing.
“This power has a name in our world—Wither Fever. It is devouring the life of our Prince, the last hope of our Kingdom! We tracked it down, exhausted everything, and discovered the source of this plague… was the Sacred Relic you worship!”
His words struck Magis like a heavy hammer.
The shock on his face froze, then deepened into a sense of incredulous absurdity.
Why had the power of the Sacred Relic he guarded day and night appeared in the outside world?
Had the honor he protected all his life become the root of others’ suffering?
At this moment, Lin En’s cold, calm voice rang out, as if a final verdict, echoing in everyone’s ears.
“Warchief Magis. We are here to seek a cure.”
“Not to assign blame.”
As the words fell, the air in the hall seemed to solidify.
Argument and accusation were meaningless before the bloodstained “Sacred Relic.”
Magis slowly, with effort, raised his hand—not to attack, but to signal Elaine to put the box away.
To guard the Isolated Remains was the supreme honor and duty of his family and himself. It should have been enshrined whole behind him.
The appearance of this fragment completely shattered his understanding and the reality he took pride in.
He stepped down from the throne, each step landing heavily on everyone’s hearts.
He did not approach Lin En, nor did he seize the fragment.
He simply walked to the center of the hall, his gaze shifting from the box to Lin En, looking deeply, his eyes filled with struggle, questioning, and a trace of wariness even he himself had not noticed.
Argument and accusation were powerless before this fragment.
He turned away from the group, walking toward the secret door behind the throne, sealed by massive runes and forbidden to all.
He replaced all words with action, his voice hoarse yet resolute as he issued an order to all present.
“Follow me.”