As absurd as the sight of a one-meter gnome statue glaring menacingly might have been, neither Dima nor I found it funny at the moment. My companion had fallen silent, frozen in shock and unsure what to do. I won’t deny it—I, too, was taken aback.

But my surprise lasted less than a second. Experience kicked in, even if nearly ten centuries had passed since my last battle. Confronted with a deity’s focal point, I immediately began analyzing the situation. After all, back in my prime, I’d dealt with more than my fair share of statues like this.

Even at a glance, you could gauge the deity’s approximate level from its focal point. Statues of various forms and sizes only appeared up to the second level. Starting at the third level, every focal point took on unique structures and properties. Take Nanoris, for instance—that harpy’s focal points had nothing to do with stone or any conventional matter. Nanomachines capable of temporarily elevating an average archmage to a solid demigod’s level were terrifying enough, but she could divide them among dozens—or even hundreds—of people!

Olubert, fortunately, was nowhere near that league. Still, the gnome wasn’t as weak as I would’ve liked.

The pedestal and statue had originally been a single piece. This meant Olubert had not only animated his focal point but had also split it into two parts. At best, this put him at the peak of the first level. Even with all my past-life experience, I couldn’t perform such a division now. All I could do was hope that the deity’s inflated ego would once again work in my favor.

Olubert’s decision to deal with "Vulkanov" personally, rather than summoning his lackeys, revealed several things.

First, he believed his mobile statue focal point was agile enough to catch an ordinary human. Second, he was still too young and prideful to prioritize efficiency—more experienced deities avoided personal intervention whenever possible. Third, he didn’t see me as a threat; otherwise, he would’ve used his gift immediately. He must have spotted us only after I had returned Dima to his body.

"And where do you think you’re going, Vulkanov?" the deity rasped, confirming my deductions. "Did you really think I wouldn’t notice what’s happening right under my nose? Is it you who’s responsible for my men disappearing?"

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

I didn’t plan on answering. Instead, I was already calculating the best direction to retreat. As weak as the mobile stone focal point might be, a direct confrontation was almost certain to end badly for me.

Now that we’d been spotted, heading for the checkpoint was pointless. Our best bet was to escape through a window. That meant going back—

"Oh no, don’t think you can just leave," the gnome continued, mistaking my hesitation for fear. "This is private property!"

In an instant, the visible space around us—the operating room and corridor—began to shift. It resembled the use of that strange illusionary gift, but on a much larger scale. Everything around us looked and felt like a viscous black sludge. Even the gnome’s focal point temporarily transformed. Worse yet, the effects weren’t long in coming.

Tentacles of all shapes and sizes started descending from every direction. Here, all the nightmares that would normally just be illusions became reality.

I hadn’t expected to enrage him this much. Creating a personal domain, especially in "reality," consumed an absurd amount of energy. And even then, it could only last a couple of minutes. Though in our case, "a couple" minutes might as well be an eternity!

The only counter to this was to create my own domain—there was no other option. Even if we were evenly matched in strength, I’d have to expend considerable resources. A deity controlling a domain always held the advantage over someone who either couldn’t or chose not to respond in kind.

These thoughts took less than a second, and I decided to take the risk. By splitting his focal point, Olubert had significantly weakened each part in exchange for mobility. That meant his statue could now be damaged—though not without cost to myself.

If I were alone, I’d have to take a different approach. But I trusted my companion.

"Dima, no time to explain. I’m going to smash this bastard’s face, but I’ll burn through all my strength. Escape is on you!" I relayed via our mental link, then dashed forward, dodging the writhing tentacles.

I already had my *fortress* in hand, ready to channel all its accumulated energy for a single, devastating strike.

"What’s this? Not even surprised?" the gnome sneered, crossing his arms. "And what do you think you’ll do with that hunk of rubble?!"

Dodging the tentacles—many of which erupted even from the floor—I finally closed the distance to the statue. Olubert wasn’t idle, either. Fully utilizing his gift, he unleashed a cloud of illusions meant to disorient me. But as soon as the energy reached me, it was immediately dissipated, leaving me unharmed.

I didn’t even bother to see what illusion he’d crafted. Switching to magical vision, I focused on the statue itself. The gnome’s reckless energy drain made him shine like a beacon—what a waste! As they say nowadays, watching him burn through resources made my inner miser cringe.

With a wide swing, I brought my *fortress* crashing down on the statue’s face, activating a basic domain at the last moment. Unlike a "personal" domain, mine couldn’t alter the surrounding environment, but it greatly amplified my abilities and strengthened my focal point.

Olubert had assumed I was wielding an ordinary rock—a fatal mistake.

The impact was catastrophic for both of us. The statue’s face shattered into fragments, and a shrill scream of pain echoed through the air.