Charles and his group followed behind Dismask and Eric. The modern city behind them gradually faded, replaced by a solemn and sacred complex of palaces.
"This is…" Charles frowned. The architectural style here was vastly different from the modern world—rich with history and culture. It resembled ancient temple ruins found around the globe, but what shocked him was how pristine and untouched these structures appeared.
And for some reason, the temples felt oddly familiar. He was certain he'd seen them before—perhaps in a book—but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recall where.
"This is the true Sanctuary," Dismask explained. "The city halfway up the mountain is just a residence for those under protection. Only Saints and Saint candidates are allowed to live here long-term."
"Hmph, so much for equality," Raven sneered. "Still think you're better than the rest? Golden armor…what, is that supposed to flaunt your wealth?"
"Raven, calm down," Charles quickly interjected.
But Dismask had clearly heard Raven's taunts. He turned around, flashing his usual mischievous grin at her. "Hey there, beautiful."
"What? Got upset because I hit a nerve?" Raven shot back, sharp and defiant.
"Heh, just one question."
…
…
"Ask."
"Have you ever been to the Underworld?"
"What!?"
The moment the words left Dismask's lips, his entire aura shifted. Though he still wore that wicked grin, a chill seeped into the air around them.
Yes—this was the aura of death, of a bottomless abyss.
"Dismask, give me some face here," Eric quickly stepped in, grabbing Dismask's rising fist.
"…Fine, for you, Eric. But don't say your brother's not loyal—this is the last time." Dismask shook off Eric's hand and backed away, giving them some space.
"I appreciate it. I'll keep them in line," Eric promised.
"Mhm. I'll leave them to you." Dismask walked ahead, leaving the group behind.
Eric then turned to the trio, his expression stern. "Raven, if you don't like them, then don't speak. Remember this: in the Sanctuary, there are two things you must never disrespect. One—Uncle Melin and Goddess Athena. They are our divine patrons, the heart of the Sanctuary. Two—the honor of the Saints. Their Cloths aren't just armor—they're comrades in battle. This time, I stepped in. Next time, I might not."
"Eric, I thought you were different from them, but you're the same. Thinking you're better than others. 'Divine patron'? What do you take me for—a child?" Raven snapped.
"Believe it or don't. But if you keep this up, for your own safety, I'll have no choice but to send you back down the mountain."
"Wait, Eric—I'll keep an eye on Raven, I promise. That won't happen again," Charles reassured. After all, the reason they came here was to recruit mutants from the Sanctuary to build their own team.
These mutants were clearly different from those hidden in the outside world. Regardless of power level, they had training and combat foundations. In battle strength alone, they far outclassed the average rogue mutant.
Why run around chasing untrained novices only to lead them to their deaths, when they could recruit real warriors right here?
From what Charles had seen so far, the people here had a real sense of belonging to the Sanctuary. Their respect for the Saints seemed sincere. And if the Saints meant that much, then Melin—who led them—must be held in even higher regard.
If he wanted his plan to succeed, he had to get on Melin's good side.
"Alright. Talk it out. Catch up once you've sorted it," Eric nodded, then left to rejoin Dismask.
"Raven…"
"I know, Charles. I just couldn't hold it in…"
"I know, Raven. I really do. But we're on someone else's turf. They have their own rules. You can't just act out because you don't like their way of doing things," Charles said gently.
"Okay, okay. I get it. Let's go."
Raven understood everything Charles said. She just had a hard time managing her emotions. Growing up with Charles constantly indulging her, she'd grown a bit spoiled. Her earlier outburst wasn't out of malice—just pent-up frustration.
"Good. Hank, how about you? Anything you want to say?" Charles asked, always mindful of Hank's opinion.
"I… I'll go along with you guys. But to be honest, Charles… I don't know why, but the words 'Sanctuary' and 'Saint' feel strangely familiar. Like I read about them in a book—but I can't remember where," Hank said, puzzled. Though his expertise was in physics, he had a strong interest in mythology.
"You feel that too? Actually, so do I. But I can't put my finger on it either. Let's keep moving. I think… they'll give us answers," Charles said, eyes drifting to Dismask ahead.
"Yeah."
"All sorted out?" Dismask asked as they caught up.
"Yes. Sorry for Raven's earlier outburst—she didn't mean anything by it, she just…"
"I know. Insecure, sensitive, stubborn, craves attention—but kind-hearted too. Her Cosmo told me," Dismask said casually.
"You—!"
"What the…"
Raven was furious. Charles was stunned. Dismask had described her perfectly.
Raven felt exposed, like her secrets were laid bare before him.
Charles was equally shocked. Only he, who'd grown up with Raven, knew her that well. And Dismask was clearly younger than them. Had he been watching them this whole time?
"Cosmo reveals the true self… Ah, forget it. It's not something I can explain in a few words. Let's go meet Uncle Melin first," Eric cut in. Even he couldn't fully explain Cosmo yet. Meeting Melin was more important for now.
"Alright, Eric. I'll wait for that explanation."
The group of four moved on and soon arrived at a training ground reserved for the Gold Saints. Strong barriers surrounded the area to contain battle damage. They'd even invited the Ancient One from Kamar-Taj to enchant the space with time magic for instant restoration.
The arena was full of craters and cracks—no spot left untouched.
Melin stood with his hands behind his back, dressed in white robes, calmly observing Aiolia and Shura. The two were panting, sweat dripping and pooling on the ground. One held his fists tight, the other had hands shaped into blades.
"What's wrong? That's all you've got?" Melin asked calmly.
But to Aiolia and Shura, his voice cut like a blade.
They'd been fighting Melin for over half an hour—giving it their all—yet hadn't even touched the hem of his robe.
They exchanged glances and nodded. Shura stepped back, and Aiolia surged forward.
"Lightning Plasma!"
Golden bolts of lightning wove together like a net, surging toward Melin like a lion's maw.
"Not bad. Your punch speed's improved by half a percent. Keep going! Aiolia, you've got more potential than this! Bring it all out! Lightning Plasma!"
The same move. Each bolt from Melin struck with precision—just a bit faster—overwhelming Aiolia's attack and turning it back.
Gritting his teeth, Aiolia pushed his body beyond its limits, burning his Cosmo. His speed increased—but Melin's still outpaced him by a hair.
"Damn it! I won't give up! Burn, my Cosmo! HAAAH—!" he roared, fists blazing with golden flames. His speed kept climbing, but Meirin remained just slightly faster.
Just as Aiolia was about to collapse, Shura dashed out from behind.
"Sacred Sword: Dual Slash!"
His hand-blades slashed, golden arcs tearing the net apart. He leapt into the air, spinning, one leg descending like a meteor.
"Sacred Sword: Meteor Slash!"
Melin didn't even open his eyes. Forming a knife-hand, he raised it.
"Sacred Sword."
His aura changed. In that moment, Melin became the blade itself—its lethal sharpness veiled in calm.
CRACK—
"Ugh—" A bone snapped, and Shura groaned. His right leg was fractured. Still, he didn't retreat. Landing on his left, he crossed his blades.
"Sacred Sword… Dance!"
Blades of energy surrounded Melin from every direction, sealing his escape.
"Sacred Sword Dance!"
Melin used the exact same technique, canceling every one of Shura's strikes. One stray blade hit Shura, sending him crashing into a wall.
At that moment, Aiolia charged in, fist pulled back.
"Starburst Impact!"
The punch struck. A golden pentagram burst forth, passing through Melin's body.
But shockingly, Melin stood unfazed, expression unchanged—while Aiolia, despite landing the hit, collapsed instantly.