After the preceding chain of events, Ramiro had long since dismissed his suspicions of "Leviathan," becoming thoroughly convinced that the man was merely an ordinary "god-blessed" who happened to possess the strength of a fourth-rank Great Knight thanks to a "Seed of Spirituality" — someone with absolutely no comparison to himself at the pinnacle of the Heaven Knight rank. His heart naturally grew careless and arrogant. Yet he was a high-ranking member of the Night Watch who had carried out both covert assassinations and open battles against numerous powerful foes, and had weathered more than his share of perilous situations. His face wore nothing but an inscrutable smile, and his outward appearance and body language betrayed nothing amiss — he couldn't afford to startle "Leviathan" and lose the chance for a one-strike kill.
Internally, his heart, intestines, and other organs had begun to soften, dissolving into a slurry of flesh. In moments they would form a fleshy sphere that would completely engulf Leviathan, digesting and absorbing him. As a precaution, he had abandoned the idea of interrogation — extracting only superficial memories would suffice.
Leviathan ahead remained "utterly oblivious." Ramiro tensed his ankles and launched himself forward in a pounce — but just then, a voice tinged with amusement drifted from behind him. It was Francis.
"I finally caught up with you two."
"Damn it — you've ruined my good work for the second time!" Ramiro forcibly checked the explosive momentum in his body, nearly stumbling to the ground from the recoil. Then, turning around with the effort, he deliberately paled his face and said: "Francis! You followed us without a word — you nearly scared me to death."
Lucian was startled as well: "Is something wrong back there?"
Francis appeared quite understanding of Ramiro's reaction: "That door leads through the 'Bridge of Souls' over the River Styx into the core region. But the Styx itself and the Bridge have deteriorated severely, presenting a rather terrifying state of void. So I turned around and came this way."
"Then let's not delay — this path could just as easily deteriorate to the point of being impassable," Lucian urged, gesturing for the two to move quickly.
Francis nodded and once again took the lead. Ramiro brought up the rear, his mood sullen. "Before, I managed to track El's apostle, find Anxius, and encounter a Leviathan who'd only enhanced his physical strength — all thanks to the Lord's protection. But twice now I've had the chance to kill Leviathan, and both times Francis ruined it. Does this mean my good fortune has come to an end, and things are reverting to the usual state of trial and tribulation?"
"You are the One and the Many, the Beginning and the End — please bless me with a suitable opportunity to absorb Leviathan."
Ahead in the corridor, the deep darkness reappeared once more. A gray-white river strewn with countless floating bones surged in from the distant nether realm, flowing toward an unknown destination.
"So this is the River Styx?" Lucian studied it with curiosity.
Ramiro nodded. "Yes. The River Styx — said to contain a tormented, venomous soul in every single drop. You must never let it touch you. Aside from the Lord of the Nether, no other god can avoid going mad from its touch."
Moored by the riverbank was a lone dugout canoe, but the ferryman had vanished along with the dissolution of the nether realm.
"How exactly are divine domains formed? Matter and consciousness — which is the primordial principle?" Francis murmured with a philosopher's wistful tone, posing the question at the "veteran Apostle" Anxius.
The first half of that question echoed Lucian's own confusion. He had originally believed divine domains were something akin to legendary mages' demiplanes, differing only because of the special nature of divine power, which produced the effects of degradation and illusory substance. But after witnessing the nether realm's dissolution following the death of its Lord, he had begun to grasp that the gap between the two was far greater than expected. A legendary mage's demiplane would not collapse upon the mage's death — with one exception: if the death resulted from the collapse of the mage's cognition world, the demiplane would be affected and destroyed as well.
Ramiro's smile didn't reach his eyes as he replied: "The power of faith converges, and the god condenses divinity from it. The remaining faith-power, sustained by the god and its divinity, takes shape as an illusory divine domain. Within the domain, a god's strength is elevated by at least one tier. If the god dies and its divinity remains unclaimed, or if the god who absorbed the divinity chooses not to sustain the domain, then the domain will gradually disintegrate, and the faith-power will be drawn by the divinity, gathering around it."
An "unclaimed" divinity would also slowly dissipate over time.
"Truly worthy of the great god El's praise — you are a prodigious scholar of divine matters." Francis smiled and stepped into the dugout canoe.
Ramiro grumbled internally: the real Anxius never explained things anywhere near this clearly.
Once Lucian and Ramiro had boarded the canoe, Francis pressed down with his foot, and the small boat began to glide across the calm, lifeless surface of the River Styx toward the far shore.
After landing, buildings shrouded in dark mist came into view before them. It was a vast, jet-black yet magnificent palace complex — towering stone pillars supporting grand vaulted ceilings. It no longer appeared as phantasmal as before, but strikingly real.
"This is the residence of the Lord of the Nether. He conscripted five thousand mortals into the nether realm to build it, then had them buried alive here as sacrificial offerings. To think He even transported this colossal palace from the Valley of Death." The information Ramiro provided was something both Lucian and Francis already knew — it was explicitly recorded in the scriptures of the Netherlord's cult.
In these primitive religions that survived through intimidation, blood sacrifices, living sacrifices, and burial offerings were unavoidable rites — especially for those false gods whose divine portfolios were closely tied to such matters and who had been influenced by their own divinity. The God of Flame and Destruction, Avendo, had engaged in no small amount of this sort of thing in his time. It was only after becoming the God of Redemption that he had grown serene and withdrawn, showing no further such tendencies.
"The palace is enormous — let's split up and search," Ramiro proposed once more.
Francis saw that the encroaching darkness had already spread to the palace's vicinity. Taking into account the time needed for their return, he nodded in agreement. He could always use his own abilities afterward to discreetly examine whatever the other two had found.
Lucian had no objections either. He had been wanting to find an opportunity to gather adamantine, mithril, Seton, ice iron, soulstone, blood-veined steel, and starfall meteorite iron — materials needed to forge the seven-element alloy unique to the Elemental Will — in order to repair the Holme Crown Ring. Naturally, materials for other equipment such as the Silver Moon Medal, the Arcane Scepter, the Health Belt, and the Ogre Strength Gloves were also on his collection list.
Opening the palace doors, Francis went straight ahead, Lucian turned left, and Ramiro entered the palace wing on the left side.
After some time, Ramiro's figure suddenly appeared in the main hall. He glanced warily at the corridor Francis had entered, confirming there was no sign of his return. Then his expression turned grim, his body undulating as he melted into the darkness, gliding forward soundlessly like a shadow.
"I refuse to believe that my chance to kill Leviathan will be disrupted by you again!"
The speed of a Heaven Knight was terrifyingly swift. He streaked past corridors, past chambers, and quickly spotted "Leviathan" ahead — gripping a long sword, cautiously searching every corner in a state of guarded vigilance.
At the end of this corridor stood a black metal gate painted with a white skull and a river of blood. The death-force emanating from the Netherlord upon it was on the verge of fading entirely.
Lucian held an ordinary long sword of refined steel — a reward from El upon their departure from the city of Brittan, not the Frost stored within his spatial pouch.
After a careful examination, Lucian gripped the sword with both hands and brought it crashing down upon the center of the white skull. Then he released his hold, letting the blade, wreathed in the last remnants of death-force, fall to the ground.