Novelas y relatos de Solo Leveling Statue Of God

[Zeve’s POV] We followed the priestess to the deity room to pay our tribute. The blue light radiating from the grand statue of the moon goddess welcomed us. The statue was carved out of pure white marble. Who could not recognize her? Her beauty, her elegance, her gravity, her serenity and her unmatchable divinity. But beside her was the statue of a male deity I didn’t recognize. The statue was dull, grey and had cracked all over on it. It wasn’t ugly; it was broken as if the statue was dying.

An ordinary person would have no idea how much a huge statue like that would cost! The statue was a majestic middle-aged man who did not seem particularly stern but exuded a kind of dominance, his eyes brimming with vitality. Even though it was just a statue, it appeared to be a living being that made one too fearful to look it in the eye. It was as if the status had a consciousness of its own. This was a statue of The Saint, Caelum Caesar, from whom Sicut In Caelo got its name. Every member of Sicut In Caelo admired and respected Saint Caelum very much. They did not worship any god, followed no religion, and refused to devote themselves to any faith except for The Saint. In their hearts, Th

Their leader, Solan, whispered to his beta, “She speaks of unity… but she will never allow the Sun God to rise.” --- Scene 2: The Unveiling of the Statue Later that night, under a rising full moon, Liora led the packs to the Sanctuary Gardens where an enormous statue of Iris—the Mother Wolf—stood unveiled for the first time. Carved from moonstone and shadowglass, the statue depicted Iris in her wolf form, her eyes set with gold and obsidian gemstones that seemed to glow with an inner light.

Unaffected by my words, unaffected by the world. It looks as if it has been carved just yesterday by the most skilled sculptor. It looks so alive, so like him. Cold and brittle, passive, emotionless but having a haunting beauty to it. “You are no god. Just a self-obsessed, obnoxious, unworthy, mortal man who called himself a god.” I mutter as I point my finger at his statue accusingly.

It grew heavy, heavy, with the smell of ozone and rich, oxidized soil. She knew it was Hades. Not Pluto, not Dis Pater. This was the older, more austere god, the one who governed through silence rather than a bellow, but through an unbreakable oath. The statue was simple, gigantic. It presented him not as a frightening commander but as a man in the prime of his power, sitting, a helm at an angle under one arm, his face not cruel but very piercing. And his eyes, shards of obsidian, shone with a radiance that consumed the very light of the lab and reflected back only an impossible depth.