Water parted.

  A trench split the waves asunder, walls colpsing inward as the invisible crescent tore through the deep.

  Viktor couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed. He didn’t expect at all that the Reliquary was this powerful when wielded by someone like Sebekton. And not only that, the Crocodilian had also managed to deliver two such devastating blows in quick succession.

  But it was not the time to stand around being impressed. There was damage to assess, and minions to—well, hopefully not—repce. So he shifted his vision, pulling away from the sweeping aerial view that captured the battle on the surface, and descending into the depths below.

  And there they were.

  A group of Acolytes stood frozen in pce, eyes wide with shock, and whatever chant they had been croaking had died in their throats. They were caught completely off guard by Sebekton’s strike. They had gathered here to conduct a ritual to summon that colossal tentacle, and suddenly, it was violently interrupted, something they were utterly unprepared for.

  The actual damage was light, though. Just some bruises here and there across their ashen skin, probably caused by the shockwave. No one died, so it was all good. That meant he wouldn’t have to waste mana summoning their repcements.

  On the other hand, the psychological blow was deep. The Acolytes had believed that they were safe, that they were beyond reach. They were isoted from the world above, and they were protected by a barrier of water that could never be breached. Before the strike came, they were sure that they were untouchable. But Sebekton had shattered that illusion. In an instant, their sanctuary had been obliterated, and the safety they had absolute confidence in dissolved like foam on the waves.

  Once the shock wore off, it soon turned into anger. The paralyzed Acolytes slowly began to stir. Then, they hissed. Their eyes bulged, their gills fluttered, and their webbed hands cwed at the water in rage. The creatures coiled together, trying to form a circle once again. Clearly, they were set on exacting vengeance for the sacrilegious insult they had just endured.

  “Celeste, order them to stop,” Viktor told his Dungeon Core. “It’s enough for today.”

  [Understood, Master.]

  The Acolytes of the Deep were not going to like it, but they had no choice but to bend to his will. As he opened his eye, he saw the colossal tentacle slowly retracting into the water, and Sebekton’s small silhouette trudging back toward him.

  “What an incredible battle,” came a familiar voice at his side.

  He turned and found Fianna, half-submerged in the water nearby, her mischievous eyes meeting his gaze. He must have been too focused on observing the fight to notice the mermaid’s approach.

  “You were watching it too, huh?”

  “We merfolk were all watching, Master.” Her lips then curled into a grin. “Served them right.”

  “You really hate those Acolytes, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” she said nonchantly. “By the way, Master, did you order Lord Sebekton to strike at the bottom of the water like that?”

  Viktor shook his head. “No, he did that on his own.”

  In fact, Sebekton was not supposed to pull such a stunt at all. He had intended the spar to be an endless exchange of blows between the Crocodilian and the summoned tentacles. In other words, a battle of attrition that sted until one side ran out of stamina. A bit boring, yes, but tests weren’t meant to be fun.

  Nevertheless, having a subordinate who could think outside the box was never a bad thing. So even though the fight had taken an unexpected turn, he was pleased with the end result.

  Before long, the Guardian came back. “Master, young dy.” His voice rumbled. “I’ve returned.”

  “Good job!” Viktor said, giving him an approval nod.

  “I hope you won’t be mad at me,” Sebekton said apologetically. He lowered his massive head, scratching at the bony ridges on his skull, looking as sheepish as possible for a hulking behemoth that could shred a man to pieces in the blink of an eye. “What I did probably isn’t what you had in mind. But during the fight, I was overtaken by bloodlust...”

  “It’s fine. This’ll serve as a good lesson for the Acolytes as well. They shouldn’t have assumed they were invincible down there.”

  Viktor’s mind drifted back to his own adventuring days. There had been a time when he used the power of a Reliquary to dive into the depths, where he found the Acolytes of the Deep and slew them while they were conducting their ritual. The same thing could happen again, this time with an intruder hunting his minions, so they had better be prepared.

  “Also,” he continued. “You have shown me the power of your weapon. I have to say that I’m impressed.”

  Sebekton guffawed. “Thank you, Master. But I think two strikes are the limit. I doubt I can nd a third. If the battle continues, I’ll be the one who gets beaten.”

  Viktor realized that as well, which was precisely why he ordered Celeste to stop the fight. It would no longer be a spar, just the humiliated Acolytes shing out to settle the score in anger.

  “Lord Sebekton,” Fianna chimed in. “You don’t have to be so modest. You’ve fared pretty well against the Hand of the False God.”

  “The what now?” asked Viktor.

  “Those things that the Acolytes summoned are actually the extensions of the god they worship,” the mermaid replied. “And that colossal tentacle just now, the one Lord Sebekton had carved a huge gash into, they call it the Hand of God.”

  That thing is part of a god?

  “You sure know an awful lot about them, don’t you?” Viktor asked. “But how did you get all this information? You hate them and avoid talking to them, right?”

  Fianna shrugged. “We merfolk and they have run into each other many times, in many different worlds. So we’ve learned a lot about them. I don’t interact with them much myself, but I’ve heard many stories.”

  “You don’t know them yourself, yet you judge them based on gossip.” Viktor chuckled. “That feels a bit unfair, doesn’t it?”

  “Well...” The mermaid tried to argue, but she struggled to find the words. She furrowed her brow, thinking hard, searching for a way to defend her position. Then, she sighed and said, “Maybe you’re right, Master. Maybe it’s prejudice. But from what I’ve seen of them, there is absolutely nothing that contradicts what I’ve already suspected. And my gut feeling... it told me that these guys are really bad news. Don’t you feel the same, Master? Don’t you find them unsettling?”

  Of course, when he asked Fianna that question, he was just teasing her. He himself did find the Acolytes creepy. But at the end of the day, it was irrelevant. Their usefulness outweighed whatever discomfort he might have toward them. The only thing he needed to consider was whether they could be a potential threat. After all, they were devoted to their god. What if, one day, that god became an obstacle in his pn? Or maybe, the so-called Great One had already had him marked, and sent his underlings here to spy on him?

  The idea made his stomach churn. Celeste, he sent a thought to his Dungeon Core. Tell me everything you know about the Acolytes.

  [I don’t know much more than what I have already told you, Master. They are the ones who are devoted to a being known as the Great One of the Deep. Their devotion grants them “gifts,” which enhance their power but also bring about physical mutations.]

  Viktor snorted. That doesn’t sound very useful at all. He gnced at Sebekton. He had asked the Guardian to gather more information about those creatures, but that might become more difficult after what had happened today.

  [Master.]

  What?

  [Why are you so worried about the Acolytes? They have accepted the contract to become the minions of the dungeon. They cannot possibly betray us. Besides, you and I can see everything that happens within these walls. There is nothing they can hide. Whatever they try to do, we will know immediately.]

  Viktor didn’t like the fact that Celeste was aware of his concern for those creatures. Was it just an educated guess from the Dungeon Core, or could it actually read his mind?

  What if a god intervenes? He answered the question with a different question.

  [What do you mean, Master?]

  You said it yourself, didn’t you? It’s possible for a god to overwrite the rules written by other gods, which means it won’t be strange if a god can nullify a contract we have with our minions, or block our vision and hide what their underlings are doing from us. Am I right?

  [It might be true, but... if that is the case, I don’t think there is anything we can do about it. So what is the point of worrying?]

  Viktor had to concede the point. Celeste was right. What could someone possibly do to defend themselves against the gods?

  Maybe it was just him. Ever since that day, when he had learned about the true nature of souls, he had found himself becoming more paranoid than usual. And every time the word “god” was mentioned, a ripple of unease stirred within him.

  Pathetic.

  Viktor scowled at himself. He should not let his paranoia consume him. There was no room for such weakness. He should have been focused on the here and now, on the immediate threat to his dungeon, not the possibility of something distant and beyond his control.

  There was one thing he could try to find out, however.

  Each monster in the dungeon had its own reasons for forging a pact with the Dungeon Core. The merfolk, for example—his eyes drifted toward Fianna, who was half-sitting, half-lying back in the shallow water by the beach, her fish tail swishing zily through the waves—were here to mate voraciously, breed incessantly, and flood the pce with their offspring.

  “What’s the matter, Master?” the mermaid asked as she caught his gaze.

  “Nothing.”

  The Acolytes were no exception. There had to be a reason why they were here. And considering their unwavering devotion to their god, that reason had to be reted to their deity. But what was it, and how could he find out?

  Perhaps the most straightforward approach was the best one.

  Yes, he could just summon an Acolyte and ask the creature directly why it was here. It could lie, of course. But even a lie could hold useful information. At least then he would have something concrete to work with, instead of dwelling on uncertainties.

  Not today, though.

  The vote that decided the fate of his dungeon would be held in three days, and that was what he had to focus on at the moment. He had already decided on his course of action. Now, all that remained was carrying out the execution.

  Viktor slid his hand into his pocket, touching the vial the gremlin gave him the other day.

  It seems I’ll have to resort to using this after all.