Inside the column, there was no stone at all.
It was a scene that made one sick.
Countless golden nerve fibers densely filled the entire stone column, intertwining and writhing, their surfaces covered with a translucent spiritual mbrane, akin to blood vessels not yet fully ford.
These fibers were not still; they pulsed.
With a steady yet cold rhythm, contracting and expanding, as if the entire Holy Hall itself was breathing.
Eduardo saw these fibers extending in all directions.
But all their endpoints eventually followed the thick main lines under the floor, converging towards a singular core.
The white throne, atop the thorn-patterned feather crown.
Wings like thorns opened and closed at an extrely slow pace, as if adjusting their breath or waiting for so appropriate signal.
Every weak pulse would trigger a synchronized tremor in the internal neural network of the Holy Hall.
Eduardo could not comprehend the significance of this structure’s existence.
It lacked religious symbolism and did not adhere to any known alchemy logic.
This was a massive organ, fully debugged and long maintained in a standby state.
And now it was assessing the nodes that could be accessed one by one.
The air inside the Holy Hall began to descend.
Not flowing, but dropping.
As if the entire space was being compressed inward by so invisible weight, even the light was dragged down towards the ground.
Breathing beca difficult, the edges of thoughts began to lag, ti lost its linear progression, leaving only a forcibly elongated, constantly repeated stillness.
The forest Holy Maiden Sylvie was the first to succumb.
Her breath unknowingly synchronized completely with the rhythm of the Holy Hall.
The spiritual fluctuations on her skin were smoothed and diminished layer by layer until they approached zero.
Her pupils slowly dilated, her gaze lost focus.
Yet there was no pain on her face.
It was a kind of almost satisfied daze, as if she had finally found the right place and was permitted to rge into a greater whole.
Her body leaned slightly forward, as if listening to so call only she could hear.
In the next mont, her heartbeat stopped.
There was no violent twitch nor scream, her body lost its support and quietly fell to the cold ground, without even a trace of echo.
Gabriel, the arbiter, stepped forward almost simultaneously.
His sacred Fighting Energy erupted fiercely under instinctive urging, platinum light bursting from the cracks in his armor.
However, before that power could spread, it was rudely suppressed by a higher-order existence.
As if his rebellion was not considered a "processable event" from the beginning.
Gabriel’s face showed intense fluctuations for the first ti.
It was not fear, but a complete collapse of recognition.
His Fighting Energy, his faith, everything he relied on to define himself was proven aningless at this mont.
He opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say sothing.
In the next second, his pupils suddenly contracted.
A golden nerve fiber broke through from beneath the floor and pierced into his chest like a venomous snake.
No blood splashed, the fiber completed synchronization with the sacred Fighting Energy as soon as it entered his body.
Gabriel’s body stiffened for a mont.
Then, like a shell drained of its contents, he slowly collapsed to the ground.
Two bodies.
Quietly lying beneath the steps of the Holy Hall.
No one announced their failure.
Nor was there a need.
Eduardo stood still, having not moved from the start.
The palm of his right hand was no longer just a simple stabbing pain.
The golden pattern symbolizing Divine Grace had completely lost control, its color rapidly deepening and reddening, as if a heated branding iron was directly seared onto his soul. The intense burning pain spread along his nerves, rushing straight into the depths of his consciousness.
It was a pain at the soul level.
It was forcibly issuing him a final command.
Flee.
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