Chapter 104 “Notes”

This Translation is hosted on bcatranslation.com

Vanna stood poised, gently accepting the feather quill and parchment from the enigmatic tomb guardian. She took a calming breath, steadying her nerves before asking her next question.

“How much time do I have inside the tomb?” Vanna inquired, her eyes meeting the guardian’s mysterious gaze.

The tomb guardian tilted his head slightly, as if assessing her resilience and fortitude. Finally, he responded with an unsettling answer, “A mere moment or a whole eternity.”

His cryptic response suggested that the information within the tomb would be concise yet immensely significant, hinting at the inherent danger of the “origin” to be revealed—a source so perilous that merely listening to it might be fatal.

Nodding subtly, Vanna averted her gaze from the tomb guardian and began walking toward the imposing tomb nearby. The guardian followed closely, dragging dark iron chains that had succumbed to rot. As they moved, the chains scraped against the ground, producing a harsh, grating sound. The gathering shadows in the square watched in solemn silence as Vanna, the chosen one, approached the tomb.

Upon reaching the grand entrance, Vanna halted and looked up at the towering stone doors that exuded an ancient and desolate energy, touching something profound within her soul.

This wasn’t her first encounter with this mysterious tomb during gatherings of psychic phenomena, but it was her first time being chosen as a “Listener.”

Known as Vision 004, “The Tomb of the Nameless King,” this ancient structure wasn’t governed by any specific religious organization. Rather, it was a joint venture overseen by various orthodox institutions. Architecturally, it bore the distinct characteristics of the ancient Crete Kingdom. Existing archeological and historical evidence also supported the idea that this tomb was a relic of that bygone era. Despite this, no one could definitively say who built it or why this age-old tomb had metamorphosed into a so-called “vision.”

What was known was that the master of this tomb would sporadically send messages to the outside world. These messages were often fatal to ordinary people due to some form of contamination they carried. However, they were also incredibly accurate, providing exact details about various anomalies and visions of great power.

Whenever the master of the tomb wished to communicate, a “tomb guardian” would appear to select a Listener to enter. The guardian himself was an integral part of Vision 004. A being without a name and bound by a solemn duty, he safeguarded the tomb’s arcane secrets. He primarily chose souls present near the gathering square for this solemn task. If no suitable individuals were nearby, the guardian had the power to select someone from anywhere in the world.

In the era before people understood the pattern and properties of Vision 004, this random selection process had claimed hundreds, if not thousands, of lives. It wasn’t until the rise of a natural-born saint many millennia ago that this dreadful cycle was finally broken.

The saint who emerged alive from the Tomb of the Nameless King had bestowed upon the world the first gift from the mysterious “Nameless King”: an inaugural list detailing various anomalies and visions. Though it was generally known that this list and categorization of paranormal occurrences originated from the ancient Crete Kingdom, the manner in which this knowledge entered the world—via Vision 004—was a revelation. It took hundreds of failed attempts before the list was successfully communicated to the world.

Only after that pivotal event did religious organizations begin to proactively engage with the tomb. Through a series of psychic gatherings, they started sending saints to serve as “Listeners,” thus finding a relatively safe method to tap into this ancient vision for human interaction.

“Enter the tomb; prepare to listen,” intoned the tomb guardian’s deep, raspy voice from behind Vanna. Taking a measured step forward, she entered.

The heavy stone doors ground closed behind her, sealing her inside, while the presence of the tomb guardian dissipated as if absorbed by the very walls of the tomb. Once again, the ancient guardian became an ethereal part of the tomb’s essence, monitoring Vanna’s every movement and intention through some unseen, unspoken connection.

Along the corridor leading to the burial chamber, pale flames sprang to life on either side, casting an eerie illumination. Guided by their ghostly light, Vanna ventured deeper into the tomb. Her eyes darted to the walls constructed of massive stones, where she discerned faint markings that appeared to have been scratched out by human fingernails.

Her mind instinctively went over the age-old admonitions left by previous Listeners:

“Proceed straight, never look back.”

“Do not ask the tomb guardian about the identity or name of the tomb’s master.”

“Do not run, do not scream, do not pray to any gods.”

“Maintain humility and reverence, but do not kneel.”

“Do not speak after entering the burial chamber.”

These warnings were documented in sacred texts, carefully studied, and memorized by saints from various religious groups. Vanna knew them like the back of her hand; it was a forbidden sin to forget even a single line.

However, a fleeting curiosity crossed her mind. She had heard that the corridors were filled with messages from those who came before her, but what she saw were only these cautionary messages. Where were the scratches and scribbles from those who had gone mad, those who had lost all hope, or those who had screamed into the void in utter despair?

Human nature is not singular; it’s multifaceted and complex. Before the religious organizations had gained control over the process involving Vision 004, the tomb had swallowed hundreds, if not thousands, of lives. Among those, some must have succumbed to insanity, some must have blamed the world or the gods, and some must-have scrawled frenzied messages, curses, or even insults on these very walls. Yet, all Vanna saw were messages of caution and guidance, as if they were carefully curated or—as a more chilling thought struck her—as if the tomb itself had a way of choosing which messages would remain and which would be erased.

The impression Vanna got was that only souls of unwavering determination and lofty spirit were permitted to leave their mark in this corridor. While she felt a pang of curiosity and contemplated asking the tomb guardian about it, she chose not to. Though the rules technically permitted her to speak with him during this stage of the journey, and he himself had been known to answer questions in the past, Vanna was making her debut as a Listener. She didn’t want to risk breaching any unseen etiquette or triggering unexpected consequences.

An atmosphere of gravity accompanied her as she reached the end of the corridor. The dim light barely penetrating the gloom ahead suggested she had arrived at her ultimate destination—the “Chamber of the Nameless King.”

Crossing the stone threshold marking the chamber’s entrance, Vanna found herself in a cavernous, pyramid-shaped room. Its walls slanted inward and were etched with elusive, mysterious designs. Two rows of dark brown metal braziers flanked the entrance, each containing pale flames that sputtered, emitting thin plumes of smoke. Notably absent in the room were any coffins or sarcophagi. Instead, the centerpiece was a solitary stone throne upon which sat the tomb’s master—a headless corpse.

The figure looked male and unusually tall. Chains tightly bound his limbs, and his upper body was coated in thick, black fur, giving him an animalistic appearance. His feet were twisted and gnarled, resembling warped animal limbs that had been charred and left to fester. Despite his grotesque form, the headless figure offered no reaction to Vanna’s presence.

Drawing upon her training, Vanna was quick to unroll her parchment and ready her quill. Her senses heightened in anticipation of potential psychic contamination, she prepared to record whatever message she was about to receive.

Then, without warning, her surroundings shifted dramatically. Vanna found herself lying on the ground in a gathering plaza. Towering, fragmented pillars punctuated the area, connecting the tumultuous sky to the fractured ground. In the distance, she could see groups of shadowy figures approaching, one of whom appeared to be Archbishop Valentine.

“You are awake; leave now,” came the tomb guardian’s gravelly voice suddenly from beside her. Startled, Vanna struggled to lift her head. As her eyes refocused, she realized she was back at the entrance to Vision 004. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the tall tomb guardian turning away to re-enter the tomb.

Just as he did so, the ground beneath him rumbled loudly, and the massive stone structure of the tomb began to sink as if being swallowed by the ground itself. Within moments, it had vanished entirely into the plaza floor, leaving Vanna awash in a mixture of relief, confusion, and awe.

Before Vanna could even begin to make sense of the rapid sequence of events, a group of shadowy figures had already closed in on her. The voice that broke the silence belonged to Archbishop Valentine, who seemed to exude a tone of deep concern. “Vanna, are you alright? I watched you emerge from the tomb, only to faint almost immediately upon setting foot outside its threshold.”

Managing to lift herself into a sitting position, Vanna felt as though she’d been drained of all vitality. A dull fog clouded her mind, but the mist began to lift, allowing her strength and clarity to seep back in. “How long was I inside?” she queried.

“Merely a moment,” replied another shadow, whose solemn voice suggested they were a saint of high regard. “You stepped through the gateway; it sealed shut for a brief instant, and then you reappeared almost as quickly as you had entered.”

Dumbfounded, Vanna paused to absorb what she had just heard. That’s when Archbishop Valentine interjected once more, “And what of the parchment? Did you record anything?”

“Ah, yes, the parchment!” Vanna’s mind snapped to full alertness. She remembered clutching something in her hand. Fingers trembling, she lifted her hand into view, but what she saw next left her paralyzed in disbelief.

The parchment, which she distinctly remembered as a whole piece of paper, was now inexplicably reduced to a mere shred as if time or some unknown force had deteriorated it down to a fragment. Measuring only a few centimeters in length, this minuscule strip contained what appeared to be a frenetic jumble of numbers and letters: “Anomaly 099 – Doll.”

It was as if the parchment, like her, had borne the weight of a passage through realms, sustaining its own form of mysterious erosion. Yet it carried a message, vague and unsettling, but a message nonetheless—a clue or a warning from the ancient tomb. As she stared at that mysterious text, a torrent of questions and implications cascaded through her mind, leaving her at once fascinated and disturbed.

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