Chapter 1027: Nine-Tailed Ice Fox
The magical beast statues atop the twelve massive pillars seemed to come alive, and in that moment, the entire temple began to awaken.
It took a full three minutes before the enormous alchemical array in front of the temple lit up. A flash of light—thirty people vanished instantly from its surface.
The next second, everyone reappeared in a new place.
The first thing they saw was a dim corridor, easily a thousand meters wide and several hundred meters high. A stone pillar, seven or eight meters thick, rose from the ground to support the vaulted ceiling above.
The floor beneath their feet was made of giant slabs, each over ten meters long and wide, carved with ancient yet vibrant patterns—all in that distinctive gray-azure hue.
"Damn, they actually paved the floor with gray-azure stone—and every slab is this massive! What a waste..."
Morgan couldn't help himself at the sight of the floor—he rushed over, trying to see if he could pry one loose. His eyes even turned a little red.
Leon was also a bit surprised when he heard this. He'd glanced at the floor when they entered, but hadn't confirmed it. Now, hearing Morgan's outburst, he felt a little dazed too.
Gray-azure stone—the name doesn't sound impressive, but back in the days of the Nesser Dynasty, this stuff was already extinct.
This material is beloved by Pureblood Elves—it's one of the hardest stones in Northend World. Most importantly, the patterns on gray-azure stone are natural magical runes. Not only does it resist physical attacks, but below Sky Rank, it's nearly impossible to break through.
Its resistance to spell power matches its physical hardness. Fire, frost, whatever you throw at it—gray-azure stone doesn't budge. The only way to cut it is with a special alchemical reagent, and only then can someone below Sky Rank mine or process it.
The formula for this reagent has always been the Pureblood Elves’ top secret. Back then, only their highest-ranking members knew it.
Because among Pureblood Elves, only the most distinguished could use gray-azure stone for foundations or castles. The mightiest war fortresses of that era were built mainly from gray-azure stone.
When the Dark Elves’ rebellion failed and they were exiled, a key reason for their defeat was the Pureblood Elves deploying a floating Fortress of War made from gray-azure stone.
By the time of the Third Dynasty, every gray-azure stone vein on land in Northend World had vanished. Only the Endless Sea might still produce it, but those deposits are deep underwater—no one could mine in such perilous places.
Yet here, the entire floor was paved with slabs of gray-azure stone, each over ten meters wide. Every piece was carefully selected, cut, and polished—fitted so tightly that the magical runes linked perfectly.
The defenses here rival a Spatial Bulwark. Even an eighth- or ninth-level Sky Rank mage could go all out and still fail to crack a single tile.
And those massive pillars? All made of gray-azure stone too. Nothing else could support a corridor this size—hundreds of meters tall. Without magic, no one in Northend World today could build something like this.
Everyone stepped forward cautiously, and in an instant, flames erupted from the pillars throughout the corridor.
Only now did everyone notice: in the darkness above the pillars, ancient magical beast statues coiled around them. Each beast had its mouth open, holding a burning ball of fire that illuminated a vast area.
One by one, fireballs lit up in the mouths of those beasts, turning the once-dim corridor brilliantly bright.
Then, a tremendous pressure swept through everyone’s gaze, as if it was bearing down on their very souls.
Looking into the newly lit darkness, twelve colossal statues stood along both sides of the corridor.
On each side of the corridor were six recessed household shrines, each housing one of the massive statues.
"These are the Twelve Beast Gods worshipped by the orcs!"
A cry of astonishment came from the Odin Kingdom’s group.
Moving cautiously down the corridor, the group finally realized: there were only statues in those twelve shrines, not terrifying magical beasts.
Each Beast God statue had a different appearance and posture. The tallest was the Golden Behemoth, standing three to four hundred meters high, its head nearly touching the corridor’s vaulted ceiling.
Others were beast-shaped too, some over a hundred meters tall. One particular Beast God statue caught Leon’s eye, and his expression shifted slightly.
This Beast God statue stood over 150 meters tall, shaped like a majestic giant wolf. Its body was bare of fur, as if clad in powerful bone armor. Around its neck, a ring of jagged bone plates jutted upward, sharp as giant blades.
Most striking of all was the third eye on the wolf’s forehead—its eerie light seemed to pierce the river of time, mixing wisdom with something unsettling.
Seeing this giant wolf, Leon suddenly thought of his own Three-Eyed Shadow Wolf. Aside from being fast, the little wolf wasn’t much of a fighter.
Then he remembered those two stubborn Ancestral Wardens in the demi-plane, always scheming to brainwash their 'Wolf God.' Leon grew thoughtful.
After staring at the Wolf God statue for a while, Leon’s scalp tingled—as if the real Wolf God was staring back at him.
The statue showed no trace of magical energy, and the craftsmanship wasn’t even lifelike. Yet the more he looked, the more it seemed to possess a divine aura—as if real orcs were standing there, the pressure growing stronger by the second.
The moment he looked away, that pressure vanished.
[Irrelevant system message skipped.]
Meanwhile, in the demi-plane, the little wolf lay listlessly atop a stone, eyes shut, ignoring the two Ancestral Wardens trying to brainwash it.
Suddenly, the little wolf seemed to sense something and sprang up, fur bristling, looking around in confusion. After a long moment, it lay back down, still puzzled.
In the corridor, it wasn’t just Leon who sensed something strange—everyone else felt it too. Something was off, crawling under their skins like a bad omen. Leon’s instincts, honed by a lifetime of magical catastrophes and one very inconvenient reincarnation, screamed at him that this was more than just nerves.
"Don’t stare at those statues, everyone. They’re too bizarre. Don’t touch them either—they’re the twelve Beast Gods worshipped by the orcs. We’d better get out of here, fast."
Didara spoke up, drenched in cold sweat. Just a moment of looking at one of the golden Behemoth statues made the pressure unbearable, as if his soul was being crushed beneath its divine might.
Meanwhile, Morgan had collapsed to the floor, tongue lolling out, still shaken and refusing to look at the statues again. So much for his bravado—now he looked like a cat who’d seen a ghost. Leon almost pitied him, but then again, Morgan did always insist he was immune to fear. Apparently, statues didn’t care about his reputation.
No one dared linger. The group pressed on through the seemingly endless corridor, and with each step, the heavy air grew thick with a subtle, mounting pressure.
The weakest mages felt it most acutely. The farther they went, the more it seemed they were trespassing into the domain of something truly terrifying.
Leon’s brow furrowed as he squinted into the dim depths of the corridor, mind racing through probabilities and worst-case scenarios. If this was the prelude to another disaster, he hoped at least it would be interesting. He’d lost count of how many times ‘interesting’ had nearly gotten him killed.
Sky Rank!
There’s a transcendent creature up ahead—a true Sky Rank!
And it could only be a magical beast. Only magical beasts emit such unconscious, overwhelming mana to mark their territory. This aura is like an ocean—no human could possess such power. Only beasts whose reserves far exceed those of any mage could exude this force.
After walking several hundred meters further, Didara finally spoke again, his face grave.
"Careful, everyone. There’s a sleeping Sky Rank magical beast ahead—a real one, not like those mindless pseudo Sky Ranks outside!"
With those words, everyone’s expression turned grim.
The pseudo Sky Ranks outside could just barely be handled by a faction, since they lacked true power, hadn’t opened a demi-plane, and hadn’t awakened true intelligence.
They were like low-tier beasts who’d stumbled into strength overnight—easy prey for human cunning.
But a genuine Sky Rank beast? One could wipe out ten pseudo Sky Ranks without breaking a sweat. They weren’t even in the same league.
Sure enough, after another kilometer or two, they came upon a massive beast sleeping on the ground.
It looked like a fox, but with nine tails curled around itself, its body alone towering over ten meters high.
Its fur was pure white, shimmering with an ethereal glow. Each breath sent plumes of crystalline frost into the air, the magic swirling with a cold beauty that could shatter stone—every exhalation rivaled a Tier Six spell in destructive power.
The ground for hundreds of meters around was buried beneath ancient frost, layered so thick it seemed the ice had been here since the dawn of magic itself.
A Nine-Tailed Ice Fox—a mutant variant of the Nine-Tailed Fire Fox. Its bloodline was so potent that it could reach Sky Rank simply by sleeping, never needing to strive or struggle.
Just like the Five-Colored Dragon of legend, once the Nine-Tailed Fire Fox reached adulthood, it would naturally ascend to Sky Rank. Only after reaching that stage did effort and luck come into play for further advancement.
This Nine-Tailed Ice Fox before them was just entering adulthood—a true Sky Rank beast.
Didara pulled out a massive staff nearly two meters long, its shaft gleaming like red-gold metal and its tip ablaze with an orange flame.
The moment the flame appeared, the frost element around them rippled subtly.
At that very instant, the curled-up Nine-Tailed Ice Fox suddenly opened its eyes.
Its eyes were long and ice-blue, staring at the group with a gaze utterly devoid of emotion. The drifting snowflakes around it suddenly swirled in a frenzy.
The dormant frost element awoke in a frenzy; the air erupted into a blizzard, snow and ice howling as if summoned by the fox’s rising form. With every movement, the storm burst outward, swallowing the corridor in a cascade of white fury.
Didara roared, charging forward like a berserk warrior—the first to leap into battle.