The silence after the battle was almost deafening.
The statues now lay in shattered pieces across the chamber, but not a single fragment stirred. No red sparks. No trace of hostile mana. The suffocating tension had been replaced by a sacred stillness, as if even the air itself was trying to process what had just happened.
Kael was breathing heavily, but his senses remained sharp. His gaze stayed locked on the broken throne — not out of reverence, but something stranger.
A faint vibration rippled through the stone structure, as if it were breathing… as if it were alive.
Craaaaack.
A wet, resonant sound echoed out, and the floor beneath the throne began to split open. The crack formed in a spiral, expanding with an almost organic rhythm. The collapsing platform revealed a descending staircase — a spiral of material that was neither stone nor metal. Something gray and pulsing. Like hardened flesh fused with crystal.
