Chapter 597

【 HAVE YOU SEEN THE CHOSEN ONES? 】

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The holy statue was quite small.

Then again, so was Tonglu.

He cradled the statue in his arms, his expression filled with bewilderment.

And for good reason.

In most factions, holy statues served a singular purpose: they were objects of devotion, vessels through which believers offered their prayers. As conduits between mortals and the gods, they symbolized reverence, not utility.

While in theory these statues, once blessed by a deity, could technically be considered divine artifacts, few would ever think of using one for anything beyond worship.

Divine artifacts were essentially tools.

Holy statues, on the other hand, were something else entirely. They were not meant to be wielded. Instead, they stood as sacred symbols, representing the will and authority of the gods themselves.

It might have been tolerated, though not without consequence, to tamper with a divine artifact. One might even dare to curse at it. But to treat a holy statue the same way?

That was an entirely different matter.

Such an act was regarded as unforgivable blasphemy. The offender could find themselves subjected to divine punishment on the spot, their soul torn from their body and cast directly into the afterlife by the wrathful deity.

And that was the best possible outcome.

In truth, divine punishment did not always lead to the afterlife. Sometimes, it simply annihilated the offender’s soul, leaving nothing behind—not even a trace.

In short, being entrusted with this statue was a matter of immense gravity.

By tradition, it was exceptionally rare, almost unheard of, for a priest to part with such an object, especially to someone outside their own faith. To most believers, giving away their god’s statue would be seen as sacrilegious or, at the very least, wildly inappropriate.

Which was exactly why Tonglu had been left utterly speechless when Thranduil handed him one without hesitation.

From the way the Elven lord had spoken, it almost sounded as if he were suggesting that this statue of the Goddess of Life be used as a weapon against their enemies.

Wait a moment…

Isn’t this statue was bestowed directly by the Elven Goddess herself?

This was their patron deity’s holy statue!

A symbol of Her divine authority and faith!

How could such an object be brought into battle?

Was Thranduil truly intending to invoke divine punishment?

Now that Tonglu thought about it, something surfaced in his memory.

A few days earlier, just after he had entered the Desert of Death, he recalled overhearing a group of merchants discussing a strange rumor. According to them, there had been a time when the elves had deliberately defiled holy statues in order to provoke divine punishment. They had used it as a weapon, channeling the resulting punishment to shatter the defenses of a heavily fortified orc stronghold.

At the time, Tonglu had scoffed at the idea.

It sounded absurd, reckless beyond belief.

Who would dare to manipulate the wrath of a god?

These were not deranged cultists or fanatics serving evil deities.

But now, having had this holy statue personally handed to him by a high-ranking priest, he could not help but think that perhaps… maybe… the rumors was true after all.

And that only left Tonglu even more confused.

Because the statue he had just received was not of some other god. Rather, it was a statue of the Goddess of Life, the very patron deity worshipped by the elves themselves.

Surely no genuine believer would dare to profane their own god’s holy statue, especially not one that had been personally blessed by their Goddess.

The idea felt unthinkable.

To defile an object bearing Her authority? To weaponize it in battle?

Was such a thing even possible?

Could it be that this elven deity, as some rumors suggested, had been mentally affected by the corruption of faith?

No, no. That thought was dangerous. Heretical, even.

Tonglu shook his head quickly, forcing out the blasphemous notion before it could take root.

But even so, the statue in his hands was beginning to feel heavier and hotter by the moment.

Observing the legendary dwarven warrior, whose face had turned red from a mix of confusion and inner turmoil, Thranduil seemed to pick up on his unspoken doubts.

With a gentle, reassuring smile, the primordial elf stepped forward and spoke in a calm, melodic voice:

“Lord Tonglu, there is no need to be nervous. This statue was indeed bestowed directly by Her Grace, the Goddess of Life. It is specifically meant to aid you in confronting your enemies.”

Tonglu’s brows twitched as he struggled to find the right words, his mouth opening and closing before he finally managed a question in the manner of tone typically used by a confused believer seeking to be enlightened:

“This… this artifact—no, this holy statue—how exactly is it meant to be used? Or rather, how do I call upon Her Grace’s power through it?”

Thranduil’s smile remained, but his expression grew solemn.

“Lord Tonglu, this holy statue functions as a sacred coordinate created by Her Grace for the Chosen Legion.”

“Think of it as a conduit. Through it, any who offer sincere prayers to the Goddess and are prepared to give the required offering may summon the Chosen Legion.”

“Each member of the Chosen Legion carries Her Grace’s blessing. Their souls are wrapped in her divine protection, rendering them impervious to the corruption of the Abyss. This is what makes them the sharpest blade in your struggle against the evil forces that threaten your homeland.”

“Evil does not fall easily, nor does it rest. But every summoned Chosen Ones will fight tirelessly until their final breath is spent, carrying out the will of our Goddess without hesitation.”

The Chosen Ones are immune to corruption by the Abyss?

Those words lit a spark within Tonglu’s eyes.

Though he could not immediately recall where he had first heard the term “Chosen Ones,” judging from what the Elven lord had said, this so‑called Chosen Legion appeared to be a special army devoted to the Goddess of Life.

In fact, they might well be akin to the Angelic Heralds of the Human Coalition or the Heroic Spirits of the Netherworld, mythical legions whose very names inspired awe across various realms.

What excited Tonglu most, however, was the final part:

They could not be corrupted by the Abyss!

This was critical. After all, the Dwarven Kingdom had struggled for so long with the sealing of fallen ones precisely because the Abyss’s corrupting power was too strong against mortals.

In addition, the sealed fallen entity—Barolte—was once the true god of the dwarves. As such, he understood their kind far too well.

Under his subtle temptations, even seasoned dwarven warriors struggled to resist.

Even Tonglu himself, had he not received divine protection through a miracle specifically requested from the God of the Dwarves by the High Pontiff, and had he not taken every precaution to stay far from corrupted areas, might have already succumbed.

The Abyss’s corruptive power was simply too great.

Since the birth of the Abyss, the number of evil gods in the universe had gradually increased.

It was no coincidence.

That was why Tonglu became instinctively excited upon hearing Thranduil’s claim—that the so-called Chosen Legion to be summoned was immune to the Abyss’s corruption.

In that moment, he began to grasp what the High Pontiff had meant when speaking of a decisive turning point in the long struggle to maintain the seal.

Surely, it was these very Chosen Ones of whom the Elven lord spoke—warriors who are immune to the corruption of the Abyss—was the key all along!

However…

“But, Lord Thranduil,” Tonglu asked with great anticipation, “can these Chosen Ones truly stand against Barolte?”

To break the seal beneath the Dwarven Kingdom, they would have to face two enemies.

The first was the demon army summoned by Barolte, along with those dwarves who had fallen under his influence.

The second was Barolte himself.

The former could be dealt with—if these Chosen Ones were truly as Thranduil described, they would be an ideal counter to the demons.

But the latter…

Frankly, that required greater caution.

Even a sealed evil god was not an enemy to be taken lightly.

In truth, Tonglu’s question was not merely curiosity. It was a measured way of asking just how powerful the Chosen Ones truly were.

For even among the fabled angels of the Human Coalition, there were vast differences in strength—from the lowest golden‑rank angels to the awe‑inspiring Twelve‑Winged Angel Kings, whose might rivaled that of the true gods themselves.

Thranduil understood the meaning behind Tonglu’s question. After a brief pause, he responded:

“The Chosen Ones are more than capable of dealing with the demon legions. But as for confronting Barolte himself… Alas, that is beyond them.”

Tonglu’s shoulders sank slightly, the anticipation in his eyes giving way to quiet disappointment.

“I see…”

For now, Barolte remained bound beneath his seal.

Striking down his forces would indeed strengthen that seal, yet such efforts would only serve as a temporary measure.

If the world’s mana continued to rise at its current pace, the bindings that held him would inevitably weaken. It was only a matter of time before this dreadful, fallen god would break the seal.

Currently, the best solution was still to destroy him entirely once and for all.

This might be their final chance to do so.

As long as his seal remained intact, Barolte’s power would be capped at the demigod level.

But if the spatial passageways between dimensions were ever fully opened, what would descend upon the world would no longer be a demigod but a full-fledged evil god.

At that point, even if the Goddess of Life were to descend in person to confront Barolte, the fate of the Dwarven Kingdom—perched above the very seal that had bound him—would be all but doomed.

A divine battle fought upon the material world was always a calamity for its inhabitants. At best, such clashes left lands scarred for centuries; at worst, they erased kingdoms entirely.

If both combatants were true gods, there was at least the faint hope of mercy. Out of regard for their believers, they might choose to wage their struggle far from cities and settlements. Such restraint had been seen in the recent clash between the fallen God of Winter and Hunt and the Goddess of Life.

But evil gods held no such regard. They cared nothing for innocents, nor for the lands their wrath destroyed.

Moreover, after being sealed for thousands of years, Barolte likely bore a deep hatred toward the dwarves.

Tonglu’s growing concern was plain to see.

As was typical of dwarves, he did little to hide his emotions. They were always the loudest in taverns, the boldest in adventuring parties.

Thranduil naturally noticed the worry in Tonglu’s expression. He smiled gently and said:

“There is no need to worry, Lord Tonglu.”

“The Chosen Legion is responsible for defeating the demon army. As for the evil god Barolte, Her Grace has issued a separate decree.”

“Her Grace will dispatch one of her divine envoys to be summoned alongside the Chosen Legion—this envoy will join the campaign against Barolte.”

“This particular envoy is currently the strongest among all who serve the Goddess in the Elven race. If necessary, they can directly commune with Her Grace and beseech her to perform divine descent.”

“Divine descent…?”

Tonglu’s eyes widened.

And then, a wave of overwhelming excitement surged within him.

“Her Grace, the Goddess of Life… is willing to intervene personally?!”

He was visibly moved.

Only a true god could defeat an evil god.

And divine descent meant that a true god would indeed take action.

As the only true deity whose true form currently resided in Seigües, the Goddess of Life was without question the best hope for destroying the reawakening evil dwarven god.

Of course, battles between gods always carried risks, especially when a deity descended in person. There was always the possibility of falling in battle.

The fallen Gods of Winter and Hunt were prime examples of this.

Which was why Tonglu had never dared hope that the Goddess would intervene directly.

That was also why he had been so overwhelmed when Thranduil stated that not only would the Elves send a divine envoy, but that the envoy would have the ability to call upon their Patron Deity for a divine descent if needed.

It’s settled.

At that moment, only this thought remained in Tonglu’s mind.

“Then, Lord Thranduil, may I ask who this divine envoy is? Would it be possible for me to meet them?” Tonglu asked, visibly excited.

“She is called Zero, though we more commonly refer to her as Lady Zero, the Divine Envoy. She’s serving as the current acting leader of the Church of Life, is the strongest among all the elves, and—like myself—bears the royal bloodline of our people.”

“The High Priestess of the Church of Life?” Tonglu’s eyelids twitched slightly at the weight of the title.

Long ago, the title of ‘High Priestess’ had belonged to the supreme spiritual leader of the ancient Church of Nature. A thousand years past, such a figure stood on equal footing with the Pope of humanity’s Eternal Church, the High Pontiff of the dwarves, and the Chief Shaman of the orc tribes.

The High Priestess of the elves was typically characterized by royal lineage and overwhelming strength.

“The High Priestess?” Thranduil repeated softly, his brows lifting in brief surprise. Yet a moment later he smiled faintly, understanding Tonglu’s meaning.

“Our Church of Life has not formally named a High Priestess,” he admitted. “But in practice… yes, the role she fulfills is comparable.”

Upon hearing this, Tonglu’s expression turned serious.

He held the holy statue tightly in his arms, then bowed deeply to Thranduil, his voice slightly trembling:

“The dwarves will never forget the aid of the Elves.”

Thranduil quickly helped him up.

“There’s no need for such formality. Evil is our shared enemy.”

“However,” he continued, “Lady Zero is quite elusive. She often departs immediately after giving her orders. As such, I do not know her current whereabouts. I’m afraid arranging a meeting may not be possible.”

Tonglu nodded in understanding.

The information he had already learned was more than enough.

As for this Lady Zero, there would be opportunities to speak with her once she arrived at the Dwarven Kingdom.

This phase of the mission was now effectively complete.

“In that case, I must return to my homeland quickly. The seal within our Kingdom has become extremely unstable lately,” Tonglu said with a stern expression.

“I understand. We will make the necessary arrangements. If your kingdom is prepared, the summoning can begin four days from now,” Thranduil replied.

“Four days…” Tonglu silently committed the date to memory and nodded earnestly.

After exchanging a few more words, Tonglu departed with the holy statue in his arms, anticipation visible on his face.

Compared to when he arrived, his demeanor was much more relaxed, and even his steps seemed lighter.

However, just as he exited the temple, he was greeted by the sounds of joyous cheering echoing throughout Sandstorm City.

Curious, he paused to listen more carefully. He heard the elves in the vicinity shouting phrases like “the update is finally live,” “a quest has triggered,” “It’s here!” and “the rewards are amazing.”

He could not quite understand what they meant.

There was even mention of dwarves among the excitement, which piqued Tonglu’s curiosity even further.

Still, the holy statue in his arms felt heavy, and his sense of urgency to return to the dwarven kingdom was far stronger than his curiosity.

In the end, his duty triumphed. Tonglu spared only a brief glance at the celebrating elves, then made his way to the city gates. There, he summoned his golden griffin, climbed aboard it, before swiftly departing.

༺⟐༻

His return journey was far swifter than his trip to Sandstorm City.

In less than two days, Tonglu had crossed the rugged expanse of the southern mountains and arrived safely back in dwarven territory. Clutched tightly in his arms throughout the journey, the holy statue of the Goddess of Life was delivered without incident into the hands of the High Pontiff of the Dwarven National Church.

“So you are saying we will pray to this statue to summon the Chosen Ones? And Her Grace, the Goddess of Life, might even intervene in person at a critical moment?”

The High Pontiff paused mid‑sentence, his tone betraying a mixture of astonishment and careful thought. His expression carried both genuine delight and a faint shadow of something harder to read.

“Yes, Your Holiness. The Dwarven Kingdom is surely saved this time,” Tonglu replied, unable to conceal his excitement.

Yet even in the midst of his optimism, he noticed the flicker of something unusual in the High Pontiff’s expression.

Sensing that there was more behind that look, Tonglu hesitated, then asked cautiously, “Your Holiness, is something the matter? Has something gone wrong?”

“No, nothing of the sort… With the divine oracle from Her Grace, the Goddess of Life, there is no cause for concern,” the High Pontiff said at last, releasing a long, measured sigh.

“It is just… I did not expect it would be the Chosen Ones.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Tonglu asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Not wrong, exactly,” the High Pontiff answered, “but I admit, I am intrigued by these elven Chosen Ones.”

He let out another slow sigh, his gaze shifting to Tonglu with deliberate interest.

“What do you think of them? How would you describe them?”

“Them?” Tonglu repeated, momentarily caught off‑guard.

“The Chosen Ones of Her Grace, the Goddess of Life,” the High Pontiff clarified.

“The Chosen Ones? Was I supposed to meet them?” Tonglu’s brow furrowed in surprise.

“You didn’t see them?” Now it was the High Pontiff who looked taken aback.

“Uh… I was in a bit of a hurry,” Tonglu admitted, scratching at his beard. “Aside from meeting an elven noble named Thranduil, I only spoke briefly with a few other elves.”

“Elves, I see…” The High Pontiff fell silent for a moment, as though weighing something in his mind, then asked, “And what were these elves like?”

Tonglu thought for a while before answering.

“Well… they were warm, kind, and showed great hospitality to guests. Honestly, they seemed even friendlier than the elves we encountered decades ago in the Dark Mountains.”

At this, the High Pontiff’s brows drew together ever so slightly.

“Then perhaps they were not the ones,” he murmured, giving a slow shake of his head. “It seems you may have missed them.”

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