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Chapter: Soul Statue

The death knight reported, "Master, there's a powerful undead user in the Spartan arena. I believe he's a suitable vessel for you."

"An immortal body?" Apocalypse's interest was piqued.

The death knight affirmed, "Yes, his abilities are exceptional. He passed the arena's scrutiny and has now arrived in Serbenitus."

"Bring him to me," Apocalypse commanded.

"Yes, Master." The death knight swiftly returned with a black-haired man—none other than the undead warrior Howlett, whom Forseti had seen in the Spartan arena.

Howlett embraced his son, then knelt before Apocalypse. "Supreme God."

Having lived for millennia, Apocalypse, the esteemed elder, immediately discerned Howlett's thoughts and smiled. "Your child is terminally ill?"

"Yes," Howlett confessed, head bowed. "I've consulted renowned healers, but none can diagnose or treat this illness."

"In this world, only I can save your child. The supreme and merciful God—please save him. I'm willing to give everything," Howlett pled.

"Everything? Including your life?" Apocalypse inquired.

Howlett hesitated briefly before confirming, "Yes."

"Show me your abilities," Apocalypse commanded.

Howlett placed his son aside, drew a dagger, took a deep breath, and plunged it into his chest with a grunt, sweat beading on his brow.

Intrigued, Apocalypse leaned closer, observing intently.

Howlett trembled as he withdrew the dagger, blood flowing but quickly halting. The wound rapidly scabbed over and healed before their eyes.

"Remarkable ability," Apocalypse remarked, then paused. "Life for life—if you wish to heal your son, pledge your life to me."

"I do," Howlett affirmed, breathless.

"Excellent," Apocalypse nodded approvingly.

He extended his hand.

An unseen force lifted Howlett's son into the air, floating him toward Apocalypse.

Howlett remained kneeling, his expression a mix of nervous anticipation.

"No wonder no one could cure him. I've encountered this disease only a few times in two thousand years," Apocalypse mused, eyeing the boy.

"Can you cure him?" Howlett asked hopefully.

"Of course. It's a simple matter," Apocalypse assured, waving his hand. The boy's complexion swiftly normalized.

As his son opened his eyes and returned to his arms, Howlett choked back tears, embracing him tightly.

"Escort them out," Apocalypse ordered.

"Yes, Master." The death knight promptly led Howlett and his son from the palace.

"Lord Knight, what would God have me do?" Howlett inquired anxiously.

The death knight grinned knowingly. "You will soon find out."

---

Meanwhile, Forseti continued his covert exploration of Serbenitus.

On the night of the full moon, the city lay eerily quiet beneath its glow.

Suddenly, faint, desperate cries reached Forseti's ears.

Startled, he scanned his surroundings but found no one. He furrowed his brow, dismissing it as a trick of the night.

Just as he deemed it an illusion, the voice returned, clearer this time. "Help me..."

"For whom do you speak?" Forseti responded cautiously.

The voice grew agitated. "Can you hear me?"

"Who are you?" Forseti pressed on, tracing the voice's direction.

"I am Khonshu," replied a weak, middle-aged man.

Khonshu? Forseti paused.

Wasn't he the high priest who betrayed Apocalypse?

By now, Forseti had located the source—a temple-like building guarded outside. He listened through the walls.

"How can I aid you?" Forseti queried.

Khonshu implored, "My soul is trapped in a statue by Apocalypse. Enter the temple and retrieve the statue charred in the brazier."

"I cannot risk discovery by the guards," Forseti countered.

"Don't abandon me..." Khonshu pleaded. "You're my last hope. Otherwise, my soul will dissipate. I'll give you all my wealth—all of it."

Forseti paused. "What wealth do you possess?"

"A chamber brimming with gold and silver treasures."

"I possess enough," Forseti remained unmoved.

Khonshu persisted, "I'll impart all my knowledge. I'm Egypt's foremost scholar, the architect of Serbenitus, the pyramid designer, the high priest of Apocalypse, and the mightiest sorcerer."

"The pyramid?" Forseti's interest sparked. "You designed the pyramid used in Apocalypse's rebirth ceremony?"

"Indeed, the Pyramid of Rebirth—none other," Khonshu confirmed.

Forseti pondered.

If memory served, Apocalypse's Rebirth Pyramid harnessed solar power efficiently—potentially augmenting his divine abilities significantly.

"Yet rescuing you would expose me. Are there clandestine means?" Forseti inquired.

Khonshu fell silent before suggesting, "With a soul-statue, breach the temple's roof and place it beside me. I'll transfer my soul."

"Soul Statue?" Forseti frowned, producing a demon statue. "Will this suffice?"

"I can't sense from out here...but try," Khonshu urged.

Forseti tied the demon statue to a rope, scaled the temple's roof, and carefully cut a small opening.

Peering through, he spotted a statue—human-headed with a bird's features—charred within a brazier.

Guiding the demon statue through the hole, Forseti lowered it beside the bird-headed statue.

"Success?" he inquired.

Khonshu remained silent. After a moment, he exclaimed with both pain and relief, "Ah, I'm free! Pull me up!"

With swift action, Forseti retrieved the demon statue and sealed the roof opening.

The demon statue glowed faintly with silver light—moon-like.

"Why does your soul-statue exude such dark energy?" Khonshu's voice emanated from the statue.