Chapter Forty-Two: The Underground Sanctuary

In the underground temple, a strange creature sat on the floor, gnawing voraciously at a bone. It wore armor upon its body, and its massive crocodilian head was adorned with reddish-brown scales that covered it from head to toe—a living embodiment of a crocodile. Yet, unlike any ordinary beast, this crocodile’s limbs were long and slender, and its figure bore a striking resemblance to a human’s. It sat upright like a man, gripping the bone with its forelimbs as it ate. To call it a crocodile would be amiss; it was more accurately a humanoid crocodilian.

With a slurp, it stripped the last bit of flesh from the bone, licked its wide mouth, and glanced at the elderly, white-haired man beside it. “Hey, old fellow, is there any more?”

That man was the temple priest. Gazing at the blood-stained remnants of flesh clinging to the bone, his heart raced with fear. For these were human bones. The crocodilian devoured people!

Wiping the cold sweat from his brow, the priest answered carefully, “Honored Lord Rekton, perhaps you should wait a while before eating again.”

“Those Saints from Greece have come knocking once more!”

Rekton was the name of this humanoid crocodile—the mightiest Crocodile Warrior created by the Crocodile God Sobek, tasked with guarding this subterranean city. Though not particularly intelligent, Rekton was clearly favored by Sobek over his human followers. Sobek would often descend his will upon Rekton, delivering oracles to the faithful through him.

Thus, within the entire underground city, even the priest’s own status was subordinate to this seemingly foolish crocodile.

“Saints? What Saints?” Rekton shook his massive head in puzzlement.

“The companions of the two you killed last time,” the old priest explained patiently, pointing toward two metal chests in the temple’s corner. Those were Saint Cloth boxes from Sanctuary. After killing the two investigating Saints, Rekton had claimed their Cloths as trophies. At first, he had been excited, thinking he might have the chance to don a Saint Cloth himself. Yet, his own cosmos was rejected by them; he could not wear a single one.

“Maybe if I get hold of other Cloths, I’ll be able to wear one,” he consoled himself.

Little did he know, his cosmos had been forcefully ignited by Sobek and tainted by the crocodile god’s power. It was irreparably polluted. No matter how many Cloths he tried, even if all eighty-four were laid before him, not one would accept him.

“Oh, those two?”

Rekton recalled, then brightened with realization. “They tasted pretty good, though their armor was a bit hard—it hurt my teeth.” He licked his lips hungrily. His memory was poor, but he never forgot a good meal.

“Do you think their companions will taste just as delicious?” Rekton asked eagerly.

“That, I cannot say! You’ll have to try for yourself,” the priest responded with a forced smile, wiping away more sweat. Discussing the taste of human flesh with such a cold-blooded monster was nauseating. Were it not for the divine favor and strength Rekton enjoyed, the priest would never have chosen to interact with him.

“Alright, then.” Rekton nodded, tossed the bone aside, and added, “I’ll take a nap first. When they arrive, be sure to wake me.”

With that, he sprawled out on the floor, preparing to sleep.

“Then I won’t disturb your rest, Lord Rekton.” The priest retreated cautiously.

Meanwhile, Gamian, following the route he’d mapped through the eyes of a crow, arrived at the entrance to the underground city. The moment he set foot inside, he sensed something was wrong. A strange presence pressed down, suppressing his cosmos.

“Be careful—the evil god within has already spread his domain!” he warned telepathically to the two following behind him, Yin Seventeen and Ruolan.

In the corridor, Yin Seventeen asked Ruolan curiously, “What is a domain?”

It was his first mission, and though his strength surpassed the other two, his knowledge was lacking.

Ruolan, unusually serious, explained, “A domain is a place shrouded in a god’s power. The very laws of the world within are altered by divine force. Any being not belonging to that god who enters will be seen as an enemy, and their cosmos will be suppressed.”

“That’s why, throughout countless wars between Sanctuary, the Sea Realm, and the Underworld, our Sanctuary has never been breached. When Sea Warriors or Specters enter, their cosmos is suppressed and they can’t fight at full strength. Likewise, when Saints enter the Sea Realm or the Underworld, we too are weakened.”

“That’s why the wars ignited in the mythic age have continued unabated—no one can utterly destroy the other.”

“I see!” Yin Seventeen exclaimed in sudden understanding.

“But that’s not the only problem,” Ruolan sighed deeply.

“What else?” Yin Seventeen’s heart skipped a beat at her words.

Ruolan continued, “If the evil god can establish a domain here, it means his interference in this world has grown deep. He could descend or resurrect at any moment. And a god, at minimum, possesses the Seventh Sense—only a Golden Saint could hope to match that power. If we encounter such an opponent, our chances of survival are slim.”

At this, Yin Seventeen’s expression changed completely. To face an enemy wielding the Seventh Sense, who might appear at any moment, was truly terrifying. Yet now, with the mission underway, there was no turning back. He could only steel himself and proceed. Were he to flee, Sanctuary would immediately expel him, and he’d be hunted by other Saints.

“In such cases, how does Sanctuary usually respond?” he asked Ruolan again.

She recalled what her elders had taught her. “If an evil god is about to resurrect, we destroy their vessel. If one is close to descending, we interrupt the descent. That way, the god’s manifestation is cut off entirely.”

Yin Seventeen nodded seriously. “Alright, then let’s all pay close attention. We need to determine whether the evil god here intends to descend or be resurrected.”

By now, the two of them had reached the end of the corridor, close to the entrance of the underground city. They halted, hiding in the shadows, for Gamian had already been blocked by three warriors clad in leather armor. If they entered now, their presence would be exposed.

Gamian, noting the crude armor, was tempted to mock them, but the powerful cosmos each man radiated forced him to reconsider. Outnumbered, his only edge was his Silver Saint Cloth.

Moreover, he noticed that the old man in the distance also possessed a cosmos on par with a Silver Saint, though it seemed he was not skilled in combat, or perhaps was holding back.

“I am Gamian of the Crow, under the goddess Athena. As warriors of the gods, surely you have the courage to announce yourselves as well?” Gamian called out, both cautious and probing, hoping to learn their origins.

Pride in their god compelled the three men to answer without hesitation.

“Hill, Crocodile Warrior under Sobek!”

“Cork, Crocodile Warrior under Sobek!”

“Frey, Crocodile Warrior under Sobek!”