The ley-line had gone quiet, but the church itself felt heavier—like stone remembering a nightmare.
David knelt near the cracked altar, tracing fading runes with his fingertip.
Elliot poked at the rubble. "So these are… souvenirs?"
"Ancient artifacts," David replied, voice flat. "They've been soaking in mana for centuries. Handle with caution, not curiosity."
Broken bronze icons, small carved idols, and shattered tablets lay scattered across the floor, faintly humming before dimming out.
David pressed his palm on one piece; green light pulsed, then hissed away.
"There," he said. "Mana drained. Now it's just overpriced junk."
Elliot grinned. "Overpriced junk that museums would love to overpay for."
"You're thinking of selling them, aren't you?"
"Rent's due, boss."
David sighed. "Fine. But if one starts whispering, you're keeping it."
They packed the inert relics into Elliot's backpack. Outside, thunder rumbled again—deep, rolling, close.
The air thickened. Dust fell from the rafters.
From the fissures in the church floor, pale blue wisps slithered upward, gathering into solid shapes.
Elliot's eyes widened. "Oh, come on—we already did this!"
David frowned. "Bludičky… the same ones from before."
But these weren't the faint lights they'd fought earlier. These were bigger, denser—stone-skinned horrors glowing from the inside out, their eyes burning red.
"Mutation from excess mana," David muttered. "Spectral forms made solid."
"Translation?"
"We're screwed."
The first creature roared, swinging its massive arm. David blocked with a half-formed barrier that shattered on impact. He rolled aside and retaliated with a Resonance Burst—green-white light cracking its torso but failing to drop it.
"High defense… great."
The second lunged, shaking the pews apart. David sidestepped, qi surging through his legs, landing a spinning pulse that shattered the creature's shoulder. His breath came ragged.
"Okay," he gasped. "Maybe office stairs do count as training."
He fused his qi and mana for one desperate strike. The first Bludička exploded in shards of blue crystal, evaporating into mist.
Sweat poured down his forehead; his lungs burned.
"Okay," he panted. "One down… and I'm definitely doing more cardio after this."
The second monster closed in. His circle pulsed weakly; his body trembled from exhaustion.
Elliot shouted, "David!"
A golden beam cut through the church like dawn breaking stone.
The creature froze mid-lunge, then turned to dust.
Smoke cleared.
Lucien stood on a collapsed arch, coat flaring, eyes glowing gold.
"Still fighting half-asleep, Solomon?"
"Still showing off, Lucien?"
Lucien stepped down lightly, the ground sealing itself under golden runes.
"You're destabilizing the ley-lines with every clash," he said. "You'll tear this world apart before you save it."
"Depends who keeps interrupting me."
Elliot peered from behind a pew. "So this is the drama guy?"
Lucien ignored him, gaze fixed on David. "Stay out of the ley-lines. They remember you too well."
"Maybe they'll listen when I tell them to behave."
Lucien's lips curved slightly. "Still arrogant."
"Still alive."
Golden light rose beneath his feet. "Try not to die again."
He vanished in a flash.
Elliot exhaled. "That's him, huh? Gold-eyed drama king?"
"Yeah." David rubbed his shoulder. "The kind who leaves before cleanup."
They looked at the relics gleaming faintly in the rainlight.
Elliot grinned. "So, if we drain a few more, we could probably afford plane tickets."
"Elliot—no."
"Elliot—yes."
David groaned. "I need new cardio and new friends."
Outside, rain whispered against the ruins.
High above, a golden sigil flickered once and faded—watching, waiting.