Chapter 373: Cryptic
The deeper he went, the more the passage changed. The walls became smoother, the floor cleaner, and the stone less like something carved by tools and more like something shaped by some godly hand.
The golden veins pulsed brighter in these parts, and with each pulse, Elion felt a faint tug against his chest, his mana, his blood, his very existence. It was not painful, but it was invasive.
Unexpectedly, he heard faint footsteps ahead of him and stopped instantly. From the sound and softness, they were the steps of a human, but he raised his guard and prepared himself for the worst.
His grip tightened around Kurogoroshi.
He moved forward carefully, following the curve of the passage until it opened into a small circular chamber. At the centre stood a stone pedestal, and around it were three sealed doorways, each marked with golden symbols. A figure stood before one of the doors with one of their hands pressed against the glowing seal.
A figure he had been hoping to run into.
Zenith.
Elion’s shoulders relaxed involuntarily and let out a breath.
She sensed his presence and turned before he could speak, her expression flashing with alarm before quickly relaxing as well; she even let out a shuddering breath of relief.
"So you are the one they sent," she whispered.
Elion fully stepped into the chamber. "And you were our informant?"
For a moment, they simply stared at each other.
Zenith’s gaze swept over him, his torn clothes, his bloodstained armour, the cuts on his face, the gleaming blade in his hand. Her eyes lingered on the sword for a heartbeat longer than everything else.
"You fought them," she said.
"Which them?"
Her expression tightened. "Maya and her little group."
Elion’s gaze sharpened slightly, "So you knew."
"No, but I noticed her only today," Zenith grimaced. "Too late."
It pissed her off that she wasn’t able to see such a thing until it was too late; perhaps this is the reason Elion died, but she couldn’t be sure.
The reasons could be plenty; after all, she couldn’t be sure if the circumstances leading up to some of his many deaths were always constant. She was very happy about one thing, though. They had never made it this far in all the other loops.
All her planning had led them up to this point, and it was convenient that they had sent Elion as their infiltration agent. She had considered this course of action from the coalition, but she had not expected them to go through with it.
It made things simpler for her; she could protect him better until they got out of this trial. She was really looking forward to going back with him and meeting all her other sisters that Elion had told her about during their many conversations in different loops.
But she was still afraid of the possibility that she had made the wrong assumptions about the philosopher’s stone. What if it could not help her escape the clutches of this trial?
The thought frightened her to her very core. The thought of never being able to see Elion again, of being another remnant forgotten to the winds of time.
She shook her head to chase the thought away and looked back at Elion with a lovely smile on her face, "So did, what did you do, did you end up killing them?"
Elion gave a short, humourless laugh. "Well, not exactly, I might have just let them go."
She gave him a flat look, "Huh, just like that?"
Elion nodded calmly, "Well, I had no reason to kill them, and I didn’t hold anything against them."
Zenith stared at him, then exhaled softly. "That is either mercy or arrogance. And are you sure you didn’t just fall for the mage’s charms?"
Elion coughed into his fist, "Of course not. Who do you think I am, and why would you assume such a thing?"
Zenith smiled, her enigmatic black and red eyes looking at him up and down, "Remember what I said, I know you perhaps more than you know yourself."
Elion gave her a look. He certainly didn’t like the sound of that.
She walked to him and gave him a small pat on the shoulder, "Don’t stress your mind over how I know, I will tell you once we get out of here. This trial can read your thoughts and intent, while I have prepared plenty of protections on my mind against such intrusive techniques. We’ve been playing a game of cat and mouse with this stupid trial for some time now, and it might punish you gravely for even associating with me."
"Wait, is this trial alive or something?" He couldn’t help but ask, but all he received from her was a stern look. He raised his hands in defeat, "Okay, okay, I get it, no more questions."
She looked at him for another second, then nodded once.
"The stone should be ahead," she said, turning back toward the sealed doorway. "But I cannot open this."
"How did you find this place anyway? From Maya’s words, I was certainly sure you would end up falling for the fake."
"Well," She began, "I did fall for it the first few times."
"Huh? What do you mean by that?"
"Shut up and get your ass over here."
’Why does it feel like she is just teasing me with cryptic statements?’ Elion sighed, walked closer, and looked at the seal.
The golden symbols crawled slowly across the door, shifting position every few seconds. They were not like the wards in the passage. These felt denser and more complete.
"What is it?" he asked.
"A soul recognition lock," Zenith said. "It was not made by Asmodeus. He only found it and built his ritual around it. The Philosopher’s Stone is older than he is, older than this castle, and perhaps even older than this whole world."
Elion looked at her. "Can Kurogoroshi cut it?"
Zenith glanced at the blade again. "Maybe. But if you do it wrong, the chamber will probably collapse, and the stone seals itself somewhere else, and we lose our chance."
"Of course."
"The trial does not want this to be easy."
Elion stared at her. Zenith met his gaze; she truly looked, but right now, she also looked exhausted.
It wasn’t really visible in her face’s physical appearance, like what you might see from a person who has been deprived of sleep or worked to the bone, but he could see it in her eyes.
It was clearly linked to whatever secrets she was keeping, and honestly, he hated not knowing things.
"How do we open it?"
Zenith turned back toward the seal. "There are three locks. Blood, soul, and intent. Asmodeus uses blood sacrifices to force the first open. His ritual suppresses the second. The third..." She paused. "The third is why he has never fully claimed the stone."
Elion stepped closer. "Intent?"
"The stone responds to purpose. Not words or lies, but purpose." Zenith’s hand hovered over the shifting symbols. "Asmodeus wants power, conquest, survival, domination. The stone allows him to borrow from it, but never truly hold it, or this war would have been over years ago. You cannot comprehend how much power the stone holds."
Elion raised a brow, "Give me a scale."
Zenith put on a pondering expression, "Well, if I had to say, it has the power to make one a god, if such a thing even exists. My father believes it’s a divine-grade artefact, and what frustrates him the most is the fact that it has never really accepted him as its master."
Elion frowned. He obviously had no problems accepting the existence of gods like most others, but giving one power equivalent to that of a god?
’That’s incredibly vague.’ Like, what exactly could it do? And he already had a divine-grade artefact and a few divine-grade techniques, though he found that he never used them much. As great as they were, overpowered even, did it feel like wielding power equivalent to that of a god?
Certainly not. But then again, he had no idea how powerful gods were supposed to be, so maybe there was some truth to it.
"And what purpose opens it?"
