The ground exploded beneath him as he launched skyward, a streak of light tearing through the infernal air. The lava followed like a furious tide, roaring in pursuit. The Molten Golems stirred beneath the molten flow, their glowing bodies rising through the magma. Some extended half-formed arms above the surface, their hands dripping fire as they reached toward Thane.

Thane activated his [Item Storage] and immediately summoned two axes. "Choppy Brothers! Little Choppy One and Little Choppy Jr.! Make me proud like your Stabby cousins did!"

Spirit flared around the axes, coating them in silver light. The edges shimmered like liquid moonlight, faint waves of power distorting the air. But with both hands full, he couldn't reach the remote.

"Master! Command me to shut the TV off!" Libra's voice echoed.

"OFF!" Thane shouted.

STAB! STAB!

[Spirit Point Strike] activated. His axes dug into the volcanic wall, embedding deep. Heat shimmered around him like glass bending under pressure, the metallic scent of scorched air filling his lungs.

"On!"

The Celestial TV flared to life. Time slowed until it became a thick syrup of motion. Lava droplets hovered midair, glowing like red stars frozen in orbit. The Golems twisted their necks upward; their molten eyes caught faint glimpses of the man climbing past them in defiance.

"Off!"

Thane pulled himself higher.

"On!"

Another leap. Another strike.

STAB! STAB!

"Off!"

His movements blurred as he made leaps of faith through a furnace that would have reduced ordinary men to ash. In less than five seconds in real time, he had scaled over ten meters. To mortal eyes, it would have looked as though a comet had learned to climb.

His chest burned from the strain; his breath came sharp and shallow. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself higher until he reached a ledge!

The jagged protrusion of dark rock was untouched by the lava's heat. His body groaned from the overuse of Spirit, but he steadied his stance and looked down.

The platform where he once stood had disappeared, swallowed whole by the molten tide. Yet, despite its fury, the lava refused to rise further. The Golems remained below, their forms half-emerged, unmoving, their heads tilted up toward him as if in reverence or resentment.

"So the lava has never reached this high?" Thane muttered, scanning the walls that bore no obsidian residue.

"It seems that it hasn't," Libra replied.

Thane frowned, focusing his Supreme Perception. Beneath the lava's flow, he sensed something. An enormous pulse of magic gathering deep below, like a slumbering heart, flowed within the lava..

The molten current roared one last time and then began to calm. The tide leveled, refusing to climb higher. The Golems stirred once more, then grew still, their torsos glowing dimly beneath the surface. Their humanoid silhouettes shone like glass statues filled with fire.

Thane's breath caught. "Is that the... Dungeon Core?"

He saw a radiant, pulsing sphere of molten light floating amid the flow. Power radiated from it in rhythmic surges that rippled across the cavern walls. The Golems formed a circle around it, their bodies glowing brighter as if to worship the light.

"How rare…" Libra murmured in awe.

"A Dungeon Core that managed to grow and thrive amidst lava."

Thane exhaled, leaning on his axes. "Yeah, well, tell it to stop staring at me like that."

The Golems shifted and slowly sank back into the molten river, their glowing eyes the last to vanish beneath the crimson surface.

"We should return here and capture that," Libra said.

"It's quite compatible with your Groundling Dungeon Core."

"Both can merge?!" Thane said, startled.

"Both will devour each other. One will remain and grow stronger. You will need to binge-watch through numerous shows to understand what I mean."

Thane chuckled weakly. "Now that's a great suggestion!" He raised the remote in amusement.

"Master! There's a time and place for everything! But now is not the time!" Libra's voice rose sharply.

"Relax, Professor Oak!" Thane replied, a grin tugging at his lips.

But then—

"…Help. Help me."

Thane froze. The voice echoed faintly through the tunnel above him. His gaze lifted toward the shadows higher up. The tone was weak, trembling—desperation barely holding onto hope.

"Someone's up there?" he muttered.

The voice called again! This time, a man's cry, rough and panicked.

Thane sighed.

"No rest for the wicked… oh wait, I'm glorified. I'm not wicked. Guess there's no rest for the righteous, either."

He braced himself, driving the axe into the wall again with a sharp [Spirit Point Strike], his Spirit flaring bright. The rocks beneath his boots cracked, spraying sparks.

[Spirit Point Strike skill level increased!]

He smirked. "Hey, progress is progress."

His body felt lighter now, the Spirit inside him burning steadier, as if the near-death climb had tempered it.

The cries grew clearer with each strike upward. Thane could hear running footsteps, small explosions, and finally pleas that were followed by fists hitting flesh and cries of pain..

"Lord..." Thane muttered.

"I can't even finish one nap without another crisis…"

At last, his hand gripped the edge of the cliff, and he pulled himself up. The light of the lava no longer reached here; darkness blanketed everything in suffocating stillness. Yet through his divine sight, he could see perfectly. Faint yellow glimmers flickered ahead as torchlight bounced off stone.

"Ugh. Another battle ahead. When can I summon Groundlings or skeletons?"

"You can only afford to summon Esau, your assigned Party Member. But only through a Summoning Spell. You'll need more hours of viewing to unlock others. As for skeletons, you'll need captured souls. Keep strong ones for combat and some Necromancy arts as basic. Which means... Binge watching."

The tunnel widened into a corridor. Voices drifted closer.

"No! Please! We're sorry!" a woman cried. "He has nothing to do with this! Please, we can leave this country! Just let us go!" a man begged.

Thane edged toward the source, crouching low, keeping to the shadows. He peeked around the corner.

Five men stood illuminated by torchlight coming from the hands of two individuals.

The three at the center were massive, barbarians with bodies like carved stone, muscles coiled beneath tattooed skin. They wore strips of charred fur and armor plates hammered crudely together, symbols of war etched into their arms.

Each held brutal weapons. One with a serrated axe, another with a hammer of volcanic iron, the third wielding a cleaver that still smoked from recent battle.

Behind them stood two others. They were lean in form, but still muscular.

"Battle mages... Huh..." Thane identified the type.

Their eyes were faintly glowing from the mana circulating within. One clutched a sword that hummed with latent heat, and the other leaned on a staff crowned with a glowing ember crystal. Sparks danced along his arms as if eager to be released. Both held one hand up and were summoning fire as torchlight.

Thane could see several torches that were sliced off and broken on the ground. Next to it were the three huddled figures cowering. A young man in a torn warrior's garb knelt defensively, his sword shaking in his hands. Beside him was a woman clutching a child, her body shielding the boy's small frame. The boy whimpered, blood streaking his leg.

Thane's jaw tightened.

"Libra… you could judge, right? With the scales thing? Can you tell if those five guys are… You know, bad guys?"

Libra's presence withdrew slightly, and the air in Thane's mind darkened with the hum of divine power.

Libra had stood by the altar inside his Channel. He merged on the platform that once bound him and used his power through it.

Thane could see what Libra was doing in his mind. The Celestial Channel shimmered into view. There, Libra took his true form once more: a being of mist and silver fire, rising above the altar of light.

Before him appeared his Scales. A massive, ancient, forged of celestial brass that pulsed with judgment. On one plate lay a single feather, pure and radiant; on the other appeared ghostly reflections of the five men's souls shaped by their deeds.

The vision deepened. Thane could see faint tendrils of shadow wrapped around each spectral figure, their forms heavy and stained. Libra's expression was unreadable as he raised his hand. The feather glowed brighter.

Then came the sound. A deep, metallic groan as the scales began to tilt. The plate bearing the five men sank heavily, pulled down by the invisible gravity of their guilt. The beam bent under the weight. Then, with a resounding clang, it slammed into the marble floor like a thunderbolt of judgment.

The ground beneath Libra's platform rippled with shockwaves of light. The chamber echoed with the whisper of countless unseen voices, spirits crying out as justice was declared.

Suddenly, the scales reset. The images of the five men vanished, replaced by the faint silhouettes of the woman, the man, and the child. The scales teetered, trembling, then descended slowly and gently, their weight soft as silk.

A faint chime echoed, delicate and pure.

"I see the blood that they have spilled to be numerous," Libra's voice echoed through both worlds. "Each has slain at least four innocents. They are soaked in blood and unrepentant. The three they surround, however, bear no guilt in terms of the crimes of the soul. Their souls remain light."

Thane smirked grimly. "Great. That's all I needed to know."

He called forth the Stabby Bois once more. Two daggers appeared in his hands, gleaming with Spirit energy. The air crackled as he poured power into them.

"Master," Libra said softly, "are you committing… murder?"

"Of course not," Thane replied calmly, crouching.

"If killing were truly a sin, then God would never have commanded the Israelites to fight their battles and kill those foes. Even David had to kill. He stood in front of Goliath and slew him. And he was called a man after God's own heart. The commandment forbids murder. Which is the taking of life out of hate or greed? But this…" He looked at the five men, his eyes steady, his voice quiet.

"This is justice. I don't kill out of wrath. But even if I do want to kill... I'd still be seen as right, for I am righteous. Killing is ok!"

Spirit gathered brighter around the blades. They pulsed like living light, hungry to be thrown.

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