For the next few days, the trio journeyed deeper into the Primordial Sanctum.
During which they faced power monsters of the sanctum, but they were weaker than the guy they t first. It gave the two, Sara and Clark, the chance to see how much stronger they have beco after their breakthrough in the true god realm.
With each confrontation, they fought not just to survive but to test themselves. Now, with their recent breakthrough into the True God Realm, their power had evolved—and here, surrounded by real danger, they could feel it.
After all, not every being was an ancient monster who survived unknown tis, but there are countless lives that are born and raised here and naturally cannot be compared to the ancient beings who were extrely strong in their pri.
Clark moved with newfound precision, his blades slicing through monstrous forms with confidence.
Sara, her aura blooming like a crimson lotus, wove runic spells with the elegance of a goddess reborn. Her destructive runes danced in the air, cracking the bones of spectral giants and burning through barriers of corrupted law.
Apollo, on the other hand, throughout the journey, walked calmly beside them, only stepping in when they faced sothing truly troubleso. Otherwise, he watched in silence—like a sovereign observing the rise of his generals.
And with that, they went deeper into the sanctum.
As they were travelling one day, Apollo noticed sothing. "Ah, soone is fighting."
Sara and Clark instantly went on alert, eyes scanning the horizon.
Apollo pointed toward the horizon where a spiralling clash of light and darkness erupted, far in the distance. A whirlwind of divine power surged and twisted violently, thunderous explosions echoing through the valley like war drums.
From their vantage point, they could see figures locked in fierce battle—streaks of gold and violet light clashing, terrain crumbling beneath their feet.
The scene grew clearer as they approached, and the chaos sharpened into chilling detail.
One person seed to be fighting multiple opponents. The person facing many enemies alone still had an upper hand. He was terrifying as he covered a dark and bloody hellish aura.
Every motion of his hand summoned screaming souls, blades forged from sin and sorrow, each swing claiming life.
He was cloaked in a black cloak etched with infernal runes, and behind him lood a monstrous phantom—half-demon, half-judge, wreathed in fire and agony.
"This seems to be the mysterious Arvain from the Hall of Hell." Clark muttered, feeling surprised.
This made him feel more interested, as he was the only person beside him who reached the sixth floor of the Tower of Epoch. Ranking second just before him.
For a mont, none of them spoke. Arvain’s presence was overwhelming. The enemies who fought him weren’t weak, as they were from so from well-known clans, and yet they fell one by one, their divine artifacts shattering, their divine cores crushed.
And yet, Arvain’s expression remained blank. Cold. As if none of them were worth his attention.
"He’s not just strong," Sara said softly. "He’s terrifying."
Both Clark and Sara can see that even after their breakthrough, the distance between them didn’t diminish. Not to ntion it appears he also seed to have broken the true god realm.
Apollo didn’t answer. He was watching the crimson phantom behind Arvain. Sothing about it stirred a deep instinct in him—sothing ancient.
As the last of Arvain’s enemies fell to their knees, coughing blood and despair, Arvain turned slightly.
He noticed their group across the battlefield. And his eyes t with Apollo, instantly creating a tense atmosphere.
For a mont, the world seed to hold its breath. As their minds confronted each other.
Arvain’s gaze locked with Apollo’s—an unblinking, depthless stare, cold as the abyss. The hellish aura coiling around him cald slightly, yet the phantom behind him lood larger, its burning eyes trained on Apollo as if it too recognised sothing.
Boom!
The invisible collision ended. And it appeared both sides were equal.
Then, slowly, Arvain raised a hand—casually wiping blood from the edge of his lip with his thumb. He neither smiled nor frowned. But hidden within his heart, he was shocked by the strength of Apollo.
Although he hadn’t formally fought, just this small confrontation let him feel the difference in strength.
The battlefield around him was silent—strewn with shattered divine weapons, broken terrain, and the faint, lingering cries of defeated souls. The black cloak he wore swayed with each step, as though shadows themselves bowed in reverence.
The phantom behind him slowly dissolved, not vanishing but withdrawing—its burning eyes never leaving Apollo until the very end.
Sara exhaled the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.
Clark’s eyes glead with the spark of competition. He saw Arvain’s little bit of strength, but it wasn’t that overwhelming compared to Apollo, so he still had so confidence to catch up.
Apollo said nothing. But guys who were almost beaten seeing them appear were excited.
"Help us, he’s from the Hall of Hell! An enemy of every universe!" One of them shouted again, voice hoarse, reaching toward Apollo as if grasping for divine salvation.
But Apollo didn’t move. Instead, he just ignores it.
He wasn’t an idiot that others could control with a few words. He also have learnt a bit about the Hall of Hell, which is a transcendent force with a very long history and can be said to be among the oldest forces.
But it also had contradictions, as it created major troubles in three universes, even destroying nurous worlds. However, it said that it wasn’t entirely their fault, so it has mixed opinions.
Apollo remained still, the silence around him almost sacred. The pleading voices of the survivors reached his ears, but he did not respond.
The survivors’ cries grew more desperate, so weeping, so cursing, and others trying to justify their actions.
But Apollo’s silence was heavier than any answer. He stood like a sovereign judge who had already passed the verdict with nothing more than his indifference.
Clark glanced at them with narrowed eyes. "Let’s go. If they survive, they survive."
Sara hesitated only a mont before nodding.
They walked away, leaving the broken enemies behind. The silence was like a seal—final, unyielding.
The Hall of Hell.
A force cloaked in contradiction—both ancient and feared, revered and condemned.
But... he had seen Arvain. That wasn’t senseless destruction. That was purposeful wrath. Although he seed like a mad dog, he can be sure he wasn’t a mindless murderer.
There was a difference.
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