"No, this couldn't be a mechanical puppet."

After a brief moment of shock, Moen quickly calmed himself down.

"If it were a mechanical puppet, we would have been attacked long ago. There's no way we could've entered here so easily."

He surveyed the visually striking array around them with focus, his gaze suddenly sharpening.

"Besides, looking closely, these canine statues don't even have joints. There's no way they could move."

"Indeed," Vicky said, summoning her courage to step forward. She tapped lightly on one, and the metallic dog statue emitted a muffled sound.

"Bronze? No, it should be some kind of alloy. It appears to be cast in one piece, and there's no trace of magical energy. No matter how you look at it, these can't possibly move."

As the daughter of a prominent merchant guild, Vicky's insight was far above that of the average person. It didn't take long for her to make a preliminary analysis of the material and construction.

"So these... are just simple statues?"

Seville clicked her tongue in amazement. "What a waste of extremely valuable metal to create such ornamental statues. Truly fitting for The Lost Land—the idea is totally beyond my comprehension."

"Maybe they were just bored," Moen remarked casually, recalling fragments of the diary he'd read.

"In a world where people eat well, dress warmly, and there’s no room for conflict or strife, they have to find something to occupy themselves; otherwise, they'd go mad from boredom sooner or later."

"Bored, huh?" Seville thought about it for a moment. "Makes sense."

If all she could do was eat and drink all day with nothing to accomplish, she'd also try something novel.

"I can't understand it either!" Lea chimed in, clenching her little pink fists in rare agreement with Seville.

From her perspective, wasting the Goddess's power on such selfish pursuits was nothing short of blasphemy.

"Save such opinions for when we actually meet some natives," Moen said, glancing at Lea's profile with a faint smile.

Judging by the signs here, many others had passed through before us. "Let's keep moving."

…

After passing through the vast array of statues, the group finally emerged from the gloomy, dark corridor and saw a passageway inscribed with peculiar patterns.

Below the passageway lay a staircase.

The staircase spiraled downward, vanishing into the shadows.

Cautiously, the group proceeded forward. The traps and scares they'd encountered earlier had made them more vigilant—who knew what other strange things awaited them here?

Lea's detection magic remained active, just in case they encountered unknown dangers.

Even Seville retrieved a gadget resembling a small mouse, which scurried noisily down the staircase.

But as they descended further, their faces grew darker.

"We must've walked down at least a thousand steps by now," Vicky commented, her face slightly pale. As a pure magic user, her physical endurance was weaker than the others. Too embarrassed to request Lea’s holy light for something as trivial as fatigue, her legs were beginning to wobble.

Yet when she peered downward, the spiral staircase still stretched endlessly beyond view.

Damn it. She knew the natives of this world had plenty of time on their hands, but who would bother to dig such a ridiculously long staircase underground?

"If we're not under some kind of curse, then someone's definitely messing with us," Moen stated as he stroked his chin, his gaze sweeping the surroundings. Suddenly, as if recalling something, he tentatively called out:

"Aylazar?"

"…"

The darkness remained silent.

But Moen's expression was resolute, and his gaze was fixed on a specific point.

Beside him, Lea was already surrounded by floating, black metal pieces embroidered with threads of holy light, her face stern.

"Sigh."

A sigh suddenly echoed through the air.

The scene before Moen and his companions abruptly shifted. Bright, fiery light flooded their vision, causing them to instinctively narrow their eyes.

"See? I told you we wouldn't be able to stop them," Aylazar said, helplessly shrugging at his startled companion.

As Moen's eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, he raised an eyebrow and looked into the distance.

It was another expansive space, unlike any they'd seen before. Flaming torches illuminated the area brightly, and the walls were adorned with grand carvings—paintings even more incomprehensible than the ones Moen had seen in the cave.

But what caught Moen's attention wasn't the walls or their carvings—it was the scene before him.

"Quite lively," he remarked.

At this moment, there were not only Aylazar and his companions clad in Tower of Origin mage robes, but also various others gathered here.

Freya and her devoted shadow.

Margarita and Paul.

Anne, glaring resentfully at Moen and Seville; and Reta.

Even Faye, who'd been absent earlier, stood in the distance, yawning and waving at Moen. Behind her, the adventurer known as Thunder Spear stood upright like a javelin.

All of the saintess candidates were present.

More than that, Moen spotted other familiar faces, including that one unfortunate fellow who’d been consumed with envy and hate in the dark corridors.

Although their numbers were less than half of the original group—those missing were likely still lost in the sinister corridors—this scene still caught Moen off guard.

"What’s going on?"

He made his way through the crowd to stand before Freya.

Though people's positions were scattered across the space, there was a faint sense that many subtly surrounded this most famous saintess candidate.

Asking her directly would be the simplest approach.

"See for yourself," Freya replied, skipping pleasantries and her usual strange questions. She stepped aside to reveal what was in front of her.

A door.

An enormous, grand door seemingly sculpted from pure gold. Unlike the ornate murals surrounding it, the door was plain, free of any excess decoration. Yet as Moen approached, an icy, stinging sensation prickled against his skin.

"The door mentioned by the church?"

"Yes."

"Can't be opened?"

"Probably."

Moen exchanged a look with Lea, who nodded in understanding and stepped forward.

Tasks like these were best left to the expert in their group.

Lea placed her delicate hand on the golden door, letting traces of mana ripple outward.

After a brief moment, she withdrew her hand, her face slightly pale.

"It's an incredibly complex, interwoven magical formation," she explained. "Not only that—it seems to incorporate alchemy, multiple consecutive mechanisms, and elements of ancient magic."

"So it really can't be opened? Not even you?" Seville asked in curiosity. Her trust in Lea had deepened after their previous encounters.

"No, not even me," Lea replied with a bitter smile. "What's laid on this door is far too intricate. Unless someone reaches the Truth level, it’s impossible to decipher its mechanisms alone. Attempting to do so recklessly might even—”

"Might even what?"

"I'm not too sure about the chain of mechanisms this could trigger, but…" Lea gestured overhead, swallowing nervously. "Keep in mind—we're at least several hundred meters underground!"

"Hiss—"

Seville drew a sharp breath.

Underground?

What typically happens when an underground mechanism malfunctions?

Based on her years of exploration, there was an 80 percent chance they'd be buried alive under several hundred meters of rock.

No doubt about it—those ancient people were always this dull and rigid, even in the way they designed deadly traps.

"Ah, I see now," Moen murmured, stroking his chin. He noticed Freya watching him with an amused, inquisitive gaze.

"So, what will you do?"

"Me?" Moen looked at her, puzzled.

"That's right." Freya tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she brought her face close to his and whispered softly, "Tell me what you're thinking."

Her fragrance wafted over, the warmth of her breath brushing against his ear. It tickled.

In that moment, Moen could clearly feel the envious stares from those around him.

But he only cast Freya a cold glance and took a small step back, creating some distance before falling into thought.

"What to do... Hmm. Let me think... Ah, I've got it."

Meeting Freya's expectant gaze, Moen clapped his hands together.

"Let's go back."

"...Huh?"

Freya's saintly smile froze on her face.

"Go back?"

"Yeah," Moen replied, giving her an odd look. "If we can't open the door, why stay here? What, are we supposed to organize a group workout or something?"