Above the altar, a thick black cloud began to gather.

An ominous aura descended upon the temple, filling the air with a suffocating pressure that pressed down on their chests. From within the swirling darkness, a pair of eyes snapped open—each blazing with an intense white light. A heartbeat later, a thunderous voice boomed from the void.

"Humans. You have entered the territory of an ancient god. My master sleeps, but I shall act in his stead."

"Who is the stronger one between you two?" The voice asked with authority, the eyes peering at the two as though it already knew the answers to it's question.

But Akhil stepped forward confidently, "She's the stronger one here" he said pointing towards Layla"

The voice paused, it's pair of white eyes darting between the two for a second, before finally falling on Layla again.

"You! If you wish to claim the Emblem of Authority, you must first sign a contract with my lord. Only then will you be permitted to lay claim to the emblem."

A spark of golden light flashed before the altar, and from it, a radiant scroll materialized, hovering in midair as it shimmered softly.

"I will acknowledge you as the new master only if you agree to fulfill my lord's final wishes. Otherwise, you may turn your back and leave now," the voice continued, the cloud crackling with raw energy. "And if you refuse my offer and instead seek a fight, then I suppose—"

The darkness surged violently, and a deafening rumble shook the entire temple.

Layla and Akhil exchanged a silent, knowing glance. Neither of them moved.

"Ahem." Akhil cleared his throat. "Great servant of the gods… we have no intention of fighting you. However, this encounter was unexpected. Would you grant us a few minutes to discuss this among ourselves?" he asked calmly.

The pair of white eyes fixed on him, as though peering into the depths of his soul. A long, oppressive silence followed before the booming voice echoed through the temple once more.

"Very well. You may discuss whatever you wish," it replied, seemingly indifferent. The eyes, however, never left them.

Akhil walked over to Layla and leaned close, whispering quietly into her ear.

After a few tense seconds, he stepped back. Layla drew in a breath and took a cautious yet resolute step forward.

"I will—"

"Step away from there, you bastard!"

Akhil turned sharply toward the cave entrance, irritation flashing across his face.

He recognized the voice instantly.

'Didn't that bastard run away?'

Akhil turned sharply, his eyes narrowing as he saw the disheveled figure of Marcus standing at the temple's entrance. The Bureau leader was a far cry from the pristine man in the suit he had been hours ago; his clothes were torn, and his face was smeared with mountain soot.

However, the desperation in his eyes had been replaced by a frantic, dangerous edge.

In his right hand, Marcus leveled a high-caliber handgun at Layla. In his left, he clutched a round ball, its core pulsing with a volatile, rhythmic violet light.

"Step away from the altar, you bastard!" Marcus shrieked, his voice echoing off the high temple walls.

Layla froze, her hand hovering inches from the radiant scroll. Akhil shifted his weight, red blood mist slowly swirling out from him, but Marcus noticed immediately.

"Don't even think about it, Nexus!" Marcus roared, his thumb hovering over the bomb's ignition trigger. "I know you're fast. I saw what you did to my men. But I only need a fraction of a second to click this. If I do, this entire temple—and the peak itself—comes down.

We'll all be buried under a million tons of rock before you can blink." He said firmly, tightening his grip on the round ball.

Just from looking at it, Akhil already knew what it was.

Layla's gaze was lethal, her daggers trembling in her grip. "You coward," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "You ran like a dog, and now you come back to threaten us with a suicide pact? You're pathetic, Marcus."

"Coward? Bastard?" Marcus let out a shrill, hysterical laugh that rang through the ancient hall. "In the world of politics and power, those words are meaningless. There is only the winner and the dead. I simply outsmarted you. I let you clear the path, I let you handle the 'ancient god,' and now, I'm the one taking the prize."

Fang let out a low, vibrating snarl, his fur standing on end as he prepared to spring.

"Fang, stay!" Layla commanded sharply, her eyes never leaving the bomb. She knew the wolf's speed wouldn't matter if the entire mountain collapsed.

Marcus smirked, regaining a sliver of his old arrogance as he saw them stall. "That's it. Good girl. Now, Akhil... move away from her. Step back toward the pillars. Slowly."

Akhil stared at Marcus with a look of profound annoyance, as if he were dealing with a persistent insect rather than a life-threatening bomb. "You really think the Bureau is going to reward you for blowing up the very thing they sent you to get?"

"They'll reward the man who brings back the Emblem!" Marcus countered, his eyes darting toward the shimmering scroll. "Now move! If I see a single drop of blood magic or one step forward, we all die together."

Above them, the black cloud rumbled, the glowing white eyes of the servant watching the petty human squabble with cold, immortal indifference.

The suffocating pressure in the room intensified, as if the temple itself was growing impatient with the interruption.

Akhil took a slow, deliberate step back, raising his hands slightly. "Sir Marcus, I know you believe yourself to be powerful, but you need to stop being delusional. You don't understand the rules of this game. Taking the Emblem will put all of us in danger."

Marcus stared back at him, a deadly glint flashing in his eyes. "Excellent. I'm glad you finally understand how powerful I am." A cruel smile spread across his face. "But who said I'd have to deal with the consequences myself once I obtain the Emblem? That's what you're for."

He pointed at Akhil, his voice dripping with certainty.

"You'll become one of my puppets. You'll handle every problem that comes after this—for me."

Akhil's hands curled into tight fists at Marcus's words, fury surging beneath the surface. Still, he forced himself to remain still, Akhil glanced towards the dark clouds.

"Please, he's powerful.... But if the emblem falls into his hands, that wouldn't be the best for us, please allow her to use it instead!" Akhil said with a somewhat pleaful voice.

The pair of white eyes shifted towards him, "My Master's successor shall never be a weakling. If he's strong, then only he can lay claim to the emblem"

Akhil kept a look of dismay as he watched Marcus climb the alter.

Marcus strode up to the altar, his boots clicking sharply against the ancient stone. He didn't even glance at the ominous black cloud or the glowing white eyes of the servant. His focus was entirely on the shimmering scroll. As his hand reached out, a quill-like pen materialized in the air, its tip dripping with a strange, dark ink.

The moment Marcus gripped the pen, a thin, sickly grey mist began to seep from his fingertips, curling around his wrists like spectral vines.

It was a clear sign of a binding magical force, but Marcus was far beyond noticing. His pupils were dilated with pure greed. In his mind, he was already standing at the head of the Bureau, commanding legions and reshaping the world to his whim.

"Finally," he hissed, his voice trembling with a mix of exhaustion and triumph.

He grabbed the scroll, pulling it toward him. He didn't bother to scan the ancient script or check the "final wishes" mentioned by the servant. He simply pressed the pen to the parchment and scrawled his name in a jagged, frantic motion.

"It's mine! The authority, the power—it's all mine!" Marcus erupted into a dark, maniacal laughter that bounced off the temple walls, sounding increasingly unhinged. "I told you, Akhil! I'm the one who wins!"

But the moment the ink dried, the atmosphere in the temple shifted. The suffocating pressure didn't vanish—it intensified, turning icy cold.

From behind him, a sound erupted that stopped Marcus's heart mid-beat. It wasn't a cry of despair or a plea for mercy. It was a loud, boisterous, and genuinely amused laughter.

Akhil was doubled over, his hand resting on his knee as he laughed with such intensity that he seemed to be gasping for air. Beside him, even Layla's expression of anger had softened into a look of pitying realization.

"What... what are you laughing at?!" Marcus shrieked, clutching the scroll to his chest.

Akhil stared back at him with a cold lifeless eyes, "Look behind you"

Marcus sharply turned his gaze back to the dark clouds and his eyes widened at what he saw.

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