After freeing Brigg, Oscar freed the rest of the imprisoned Frostwind members. Easily, he undid the icy bindings, shattering them into pieces clattering on the frozen floor. Cracking their necks and stretching their limbs, the Frostwinds all rose to their feet, their height towering over all except Oscar, and smiled beneath their overgrown beards, chortling in rough grunts. Susan waved her staff anima, sending forth a tide of cleansing water. The dark, dried blood along their wrists and ankles cracked and was washed away, and newly grown skin showed itself underneath.

"Thank you for healing our wounds, lass," Brigg said, bowing slightly. "Might you have some food?"

Oscar retrieved several rations from his space pocket and tossed them to Brigg and his men. Eagerly, they bit into the hard bread and dried meat with drooling mouths, their saliva freezing instantly on the cold, icy floor. Oscar chuckled once, watching Brigg and the others happily devour food, which they seemed to have lacked during their long imprisonment. However, the ceiling shook, and an overflow of dangerous Ein began to leak in. Just a simple touch of it filled Oscar with dread, barely able to hold back his body from shivering.

He couldn't keep staying here and wasting time. Charles and the others were still fighting their hearts out to buy them time, and Oscar intended to keep his promise of shutting down the core. Oscar approached Brigg and said, "We have no time to waste. Our allies are holding back the enemy's leaders outside. Lead us to the core now."

"The outsider's device is kept within the Lighthouse. It is the center of our palace and most important. However, they have locked it shut." Brigg said, clenching his teeth and baring them like a wolf. "Our most holy purpose is in the Lighthouse, and it is defiled."

"Locked? Is there a way to open it?" Oscar glanced up as the shaking intensified.

"Special door. Unbreakable. Can only be opened by the four wheels." Brigg rubbed his wrists. "Wheels must be turned, then the door to Lighthouse can be opened. My Frostwind can lead you to the wheels. But each one is far, and outsiders and traitors will be waiting by them."

That explained why there seemed to be a lack of resistance in this huge palace. The enemy surely knew about Oscar's purpose in invading and grouped up at the key locations. Oscar wasted no time and relayed his orders. "Emily, Susan, and Esther will go to one wheel. Fred, Alec, and Uren will go to the other. The rest will go to a third. Brigg, can your men handle the last one?"

"Weak, we may be. But my men are ready to cull the traitors. Some will lead you to the wheels, and others will fight for the last one." Brigg gestured to his men, a hundred in total, a mix of various Exalts, and they sprang into action, splitting up to even out the groups. He glanced curiously at Oscar and asked, "Where will you go?"

"I will go to the Lighthouse's entrance and wait for the others to turn the wheels. The most dangerous guards should be in there, right?" Oscar said, mounting Erden. He tightened the strap on his shield and nodded to everyone else while tapping his shield. "Once you turn the wheels, get out. I'll handle the Lighthouse with Brigg. Retreat outside the palace and make for the portals."

"You never learn, do you, Os?" Fred shook his head in disapproval, but he smirked. "But that's what makes you, you. Fine. But I'll be staying right by the portal this time. I'm not going to leave ahead."

Oscar smiled and nodded, feeling his friend's resolve to accompany him to the end. At his command, everyone moved out, stomping down the halls. When they came upon a fork, several of Brigg's men and Emily, Susan, and Esther separated. Emily glanced back at Oscar and raised her staff, a gesture to wish him good luck. In response, Oscar patted his chest with a closed fist. On another divergent path, more separated from the group, and again, until it was just Oscar, Erden, and Brigg.

"Odd that you're following me alone. Are you that strong, Brigg?" Oscar asked, eyeing the tall Brigg from above.

"And what of you, outsider? You are their leader. Yet you also went alone." Brigg retorted.

"I'm not alone. I have him." Oscar patted Erden's head. His hooves quickened their pace, tapping clearly on the frozen floor. It was slick and icy, slippery, but Erden's burning hooves clamped without issues. Glancing around, Oscar noticed the fine architecture behind the ice and snow. Exquisitely cut pillars held up the ceiling from where icicles hung in countless numbers, but great chandeliers could be seen inside. The floor was different as well. Erden's footsteps melted parts of the ice, revealing a marbled floor and a blue carpet woven with golden tapestries.

Looking at Brigg's attire and recalling his manner of speech, Oscar felt the Frostwind couldn't have built the entire palace. It was a complete mismatch. Even in the Burning Valley, only the inner regions contained some forms of great architecture, though unique, while the outer regions practically lived in shacks and forts. "What is this palace? When was it built?"

"Built long ago, before my time, before even the Frostwind's time." Brigg turned a corner, and Oscar swiftly followed.

"Before the Frostwind? Then who built it?" Oscar asked, curious about whether this place might be related to the Divine Stone Clan.

"The gods. The ones we are waiting for." Brigg answered cryptically.

Interested in these so-called gods, Oscar inquired about them, "Who are your gods? And why are you waiting for them?"

"It is our duty! The purpose given to us!" Brigg raised his voice and his fists. His eyes went bloodshot, a crazed look across his already concerning bony face. "They built this place. We must watch over it. We wait for them to return. The outsiders who came before are not them. You are not them. All do not belong in this realm."

Oscar shut his mouth and continued his trek in silence, not wanting to interact with the crazed Brigg anymore. A slip of the tongue here would mean becoming an enemy of Brigg and the others. He had no idea what may set off Brigg, so he chose silence. The way Brigg regarded these gods was about as fanatical as the New Dawn in how they fervently believed in their cause.

A few minutes later, Brigg stopped before a large golden gate, the tallest and widest of all. Four latches stretched across the middle, locking the gate shut. Blue sapphires rested in the center of each latch, a bright blue glow shining brilliantly on the shimmering gold. Oscar wished to test himself against the doors and focused a great deal of Eirin into his fist, smashing his knuckles into the golden door with Shattering Wave.

Winds burst from the epicenter of his blow, roaring in his ears and rushing past his hair. Blood sprayed from his fist, and Oscar retracted his hand to find the skin torn to shreds and his bones aching. Beads of sweat flowed down to his chin as the immense pain from his hand paled his cheeks. Moving his fingers, he heard several cracks and realized his fist was broken. What an impressive door! The hardness was out of this world. Oscar drank a grade-three healing elixir, his hand recovering fast but never took his eyes off the golden door.

"That was a powerful blow. But too proud. It is all nothing before the gods. They forged this door." Brigg smirked, seemingly proud of his gods.

Interesting. Oscar had a few experiences with Marshal Exalts, the prime example being his master, Draven. But he had an inkling that even his master would be unable to break down these doors. Perhaps only a King Exalt could forcibly tear them down, but that confused him further. Robert mentioned earlier that the realm only accommodated up to Lower Marshal Exalts, and no one could advance further or exist in the realm.

Then, a sudden idea struck his mind like thunder in broad daylight; his thoughts reeled, and his head was filled with the rumbling of realization. Just like in Ashen Grove, a Primaere could have placed restrictions and laws on this realm. All realms had their own natural laws, but a Primaere could modify them, much like Silvia did to Gol-4's Stonehaven.

'It all makes sense.' Oscar gazed at Brigg. 'A Primaere is the closest we have to the gods depicted in our legends. It's no wonder they're so zealous. But why here? Why this realm?' He unmounted Erden and sat down on the icy floor. Since a Primaere presumably created these doors, there was no way to open them other than the four wheels, also presumably set there by a Primaere.

"The four lights must die. Then the gate will open." Brigg explained the obvious.

"I have faith in my people. How about you?" Oscar asked.

"I have faith in my gods. They will not tolerate these outsiders anymore." Brigg breathed in, Ein rushing into his body. Oscar sharpened his gaze, feeling Brigg's power at the Greater Knight Exalt realm and a Grade Seven Exolsia.

With nothing to do but wait, Oscar meditated, preparing for whatever awaited him beyond these daunting doors. After a long period, his anxiousness building from the continuous chaos quaking above, one of the sapphires let out a hum, the light fading within its gem. Rising to his feet, Oscar waited for the others to finish. Soon after, the second one lost its luster, then the third, and finally, the fourth and last one dulled.

A single loud crack, the sound of a gear clicking into place, resounded and echoed across the frozen halls. The latches shifted and separated. The doors parted, and a mist spilled out from the widening gap. Oscar extended his palm and released a Ripple Shroud, parting away the mists to create a straight, visible path. His feet moved slowly, deliberately with each step, as his head darted around, cautious of any ambushes.

The mists finally cleared, and Oscar found himself inside a great circular room with a long pillar extending far up. It would take him a minute to fly from the ground to the top. Next to the pillar was a glowing core, bathing in a circle of flowing light, almost as if it was behind a barrier.

"The Teragine's core!" Oscar wanted to rush out, but something leaped down and crashed between him and the core. It stood up and revealed its figure. Clad in black armor, it stomped forward, crushing the ice under its soles. It gripped a long polearm with a wide blade, surging with deadly Ein. Under its helmet, red-glass eyes rotated and spun around its metallic face.

Oscar felt a cold sweat drench his quivering back, but a fearless smile crossed his face. The Ein emanating from the powerful figure was enough for him to know. "A Lower Marshal Golem?"