"This is so confusing. At first, it seemed like the best choice was to stay unnoticed, but now that feels impossible—or at least far more difficult," Pikar complained loudly as they walked up yet another tunnel.
"We could carry the seeds in our pockets instead of the spatial rings. That way, we won’t have a target on our backs," Ricarda suggested.
Luckily, that was exactly what Thalion had done the moment he read the message.
"Yes, but we’re just lucky the seeds are so small. What if the next treasure is larger? And if we run across the desert with them in our pockets, we’ll leave a trail those hunters can follow," Pikar continued, clearly agitated by the situation.
"We don’t even know how strong those hunters are. But so far, over a million have died, which suggests they’re at least D-grade. It could be that they simply overwhelm their targets with numbers, but that seems unlikely."
Thalion had reached a similar conclusion—but there was something Pikar hadn’t considered.
"Or they might be at the same level as us but equipped with weapons strong enough to kill in a single hit," Thalion added.
"Either way, they’re extremely capable. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be this many dead. And the more people die, the more likely they are to come after us. I just hope we get some kind of clue soon, or this event will become far more dangerous very quickly," Pikar muttered.
There was nothing more to add. The group continued their ascent, moving deeper into the structure. Pikar studied the map and the phrase on its back, determined not to miss anything. No one knew how much time they had left.
They also kept a careful eye on the ground, wary of triggering another trap like the stone slab that had sealed them in with the queen.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the corridor ended. They stepped into another massive chamber.
This one was filled with wall paintings, but unlike before, it also contained several stone consoles and five sealed gates. Each gate bore a single rune—none of which Thalion recognized.
"Oh great, another stupid riddle. The gods are really smiling on us," Pikar complained.
Thalion had a few choice insults of his own, but voicing them wouldn’t help. Instead of getting lost in the murals, he turned his attention to the consoles.
At their base were etched diagrams—plans of some kind.
After studying them for a while, realization slowly dawned on him.
"Hey… maybe we don’t need to travel across the desert at all. It looks like the underground is its own world—with multiple floors."
That caught the others’ attention immediately. They abandoned what they were doing and joined him at the central console.
"That’s right. And from the looks of it, we’re already on the second of five floors," Pikar said, a wide grin spreading across his face.
"This changes everything. Judging by this, reaching the deepest level should be extremely difficult. The fifth floor is likely the oldest—buried first—and should hold the most valuable treasures. The problem is, there are no direct connections leading out of it. Not every region even has a fifth floor, which means we’ll probably have to travel far to find access points. It’s a shame there are no clear directions… but luckily, I’ve already started piecing together the wall paintings."
Pikar’s grin widened as he continued.
"From what I can tell, everything once belonged to a single massive empire—far more powerful than anything that came after. That’s the fifth floor."
He pointed toward the murals.
"The fifth floor was where that empire ruled… until something happened. It shattered into multiple smaller kingdoms, each holding only a fraction of its former power. The queen we encountered was likely part of one of those successor states."
His eyes gleamed with excitement.
"So we need to pass through these newer kingdoms and look for clues that lead us down. And the best part? There’s no wrong direction. Four of these gates lead to remnants of kingdoms on the second floor, while the one on the right should take us to the third level. Honestly, it’s a good thing you spoke up—otherwise I might’ve burned out trying to make sense of those murals without the context from the consoles."
That was… reassuring.
And the fact that they wouldn’t need to solve another riddle anytime soon? Even better.
"By the way, how did you know this gate leads to the third floor? The rune looks… a bit dark," Thalion asked.
"Because that’s where the little girl with the black flower came from," Pikar replied with a grin.
He pressed the rune, and the massive stone gate rumbled as it rose, revealing the path beyond.
"Great. Another darkness-filled chamber. Perfect for my plants," Ricarda muttered, clearly disappointed.
Thalion, of course, had a very different opinion—especially after his recent gains in power.
"I think you’re being a bit too negative. Also… aren’t you a plant mage?"
"Of course I’m a plant mage. What are you getting at, human?" Ricarda snapped, a flicker of anger in her voice.
"Whoa, no need to pull the ‘human’ card. I just meant—"
"No need? Do you even know how hard this is for me?" Ricarda cut him off, her voice rising.
"I’m an elf. A Chosen. My entire worldview has been turned upside down, and now I’m forced to follow along… to follow the orders of my goddess…"
Pikar and Thalion exchanged a brief look. That frustration had clearly been building inside her for a while.
"Right… what I was trying to say," Thalion continued once her breathing steadied, "is that you can grow plants. If you could cultivate those dark seeds, we might end up with enough for everyone."
"...Then hand them over," Ricarda said, still visibly agitated.
Thalion passed her the seeds. Her hand began to glow with green energy as she examined them, then placed them back into her pocket, shaking her head.
"Something’s locked. I think it’s because they’re tied to the trial," she said, almost to herself.
Disappointing—but it could have been worse.
"Doesn’t matter. We’re following the trail of that girl, and hopefully she has more of those black plants," Thalion said with a wicked grin. "What do you think the gods in integrated space are thinking about us? Especially if the three of us end up at the top?"
"Considering you won the first System Event against a bunch of Chosen, I’d say they’re already bragging about you," Pikar replied.
<--
In Integrated Space, the widespread wars and faction clashes had largely come to a halt. Instead, the great powers had entered what could only be described as a phase of preparation—rallying their forces while seeking out as many allies as possible.
In previous eras, it had mostly been the weaker factions that fell into chaos. This time, however, it was the major powers that had begun to fracture. The fact that the largest elven faction since the First Era was now facing such severe internal conflict was unprecedented.
For the smaller factions, this presented an opportunity. A crumbling giant meant new territory, new alliances, and a chance to rise. Many ancient elven gods—beings who had once stood beside Solan before parting ways—now saw their moment.
Killing a god as experienced as Solan would not be easy. Especially not when considering the mother of his daughter.
Still, alliances were forming.
While the other elven gods gathered strength together, Solan prepared in his own way. Rumors had spread that he had grown soft—that he hadn’t fought a truly powerful opponent in the last seven eras. His relationship with Nyssa was seen as his greatest weakness.
To others, it was like blood in the water and the sharks were already circling.
Yet before making his move, Solan had done something he despised. Something that required more willpower than any battle.
He had boasted.
He spoke of the human who had won the first System Event as an F-grade—defeating countless E-grade Chosen—and claimed that this same human had joined his rising faction. Each time he praised the human’s strength, talent, and leadership, it took everything in him not to recoil in disgust.
Worse still were the comments about his daughter.
But this, too, was necessary.
Because it was exactly what the others expected from a weakened Solan.
"I will show them who I truly am… all those elves who believe I have grown soft," Solan muttered as he donned his golden armor.
His golden scepter hovered at his side—a weapon whose true power he had hidden even from his closest allies. In recent days, he had drawn deeply from the golden sun, absorbing far more energy than before.
Now, after enduring the politics and the whispers… it was time.
The other elven gods were already on the move, hunting to grow stronger while learning to fight as a unified force. Solan knew exactly where they would go.
The Felunctilon Gate.
A relic of a long-lost race, said to have rivaled even the greatest gods. Through its halo, one could enter hunting grounds so dangerous that even the strongest beings hesitated to tread there.
Solan tightened his grip on his scepter.
Then he moved.
Three massive teleportations carried him across entire sectors, bringing him directly before the gate. The halo—vast as a solar system—burned before him. With a single thought, he stepped into the maelstrom beyond.
With practiced ease, he navigated the flowing currents of multicolored energy until he reached Roguga’s favored hunting ground.
Floating islands of massive brown crystal drifted through the void, home to jaguar-like divine beasts Roguga preferred to hunt.
This time, the hunt would be different.
Solan could already feel his former ally’s presence.
Concealing himself completely, bending light around his form, he approached until he saw them. Roguga—and fewer companions than expected.
Perfect.
Moments like these reminded Solan why he had never revealed his true strength. Their last true battle had been over twenty eras ago. Since then, he had grown far beyond what they could imagine.
The other gods with Roguga were irrelevant. Not weak—but not worth consideration.
Solan intended to kill them in the opening strike.
He waited.
Roguga raised the corpse of a jaguar-beast god in triumph—
—and Solan struck.
He surged forward, unleashing his full power as his enhancement skill ignited. A blazing arc of light tore from his scepter, instantly killing one of the lesser gods before continuing toward Roguga.
At the same time, Solan appeared beside another. His hand pierced through the god’s chest and a moment later, a burst of light erased the body entirely.
Roguga staggered back.
"Solan… you—"
The shock lasted only a heartbeat before realization set in. He had underestimated him.
Fatally.
There was no need for words.
Solan advanced, his scepter blazing with unbearable radiance. Roguga reacted instantly, his own power surging as his spear ignited with energy greater than Solan had ever seen from him.
He had grown.
But not enough.
Empowered by the vast energy he had drawn from the golden sun, Solan overwhelmed him. The clash was brief—decisive.
Within moments, the scepter pierced Roguga’s chest. Blinding white light spread across his body and the god was obliterated.
Silence returned to the shattered battlefield.
Solan calmly collected the remnants of their belongings before turning away.
This would send a message.
He was not weak.
And challenging him… would have concequences.