Chapter 170: “Loosened”
This Translation is hosted on bcatranslation
After a considerable amount of time, Vanna finally turned her attention away from the scenes passing by the car window.
Her main objective for coming to this location was to closely inspect a small, quaint chapel. However, as she entered the Sixth District, an unsettling atmosphere enveloped the area. This eerie vibe only deepened her suspicion that perhaps every hidden corner and alleyway of this district deserved her vigilant scrutiny.
She paused for a moment before leaning over and lifting a hefty bundle of documents from the passenger seat.
These were official records she had secured from City Hall before embarking on her assignment. Using her status as an inquisitor and leveraging the powers granted to her by the “Special Enforcement Regulation for Anomalous Events,” she had successfully obtained every city document related to the Sixth District spanning the past few years. She had spent part of her journey here poring over some of these records.
The papers from City Hall weren’t stamped confidential or treated as sensitive intel. They weren’t about any significant paranormal incidents or unresolved mysteries. In fact, the records Vanna had sought were seemingly trivial — reports on gas consumption, electricity bills, tax data from local businesses, water distribution, heating, waste management, and routine security patrols.
As she sifted through the information, Vanna’s gaze moved swiftly across each document.
If her prolonged tenure as an inquisitor had instilled any profound wisdom in her, it was the understanding that traces of supernatural disturbances often lurked within the most mundane facets of day-to-day life.
In a world besieged by an endless tide of anomalies and oddities threatening every living creature, the day-to-day peaceful existence within the confines of the city-state was an invaluable gem. While the average citizens of Pland might overlook these serene days, the brave souls relentlessly fighting these anomalies understood that the mundane life — the first gleam of dawn, a warm dish awaiting on the dining table, the energetic calls of street vendors, and a heartfelt “goodnight” before drifting off to sleep – all of these moments are nothing short of miraculous.
It represents the awe-inspiring tapestry that mankind, amidst this volatile world’s chaos, has woven over millennia.
Any otherworldly disruption would invariably mar this splendid vista.
“Have you spotted any discrepancies?” The voice of the driver, a young guardian, broke her train of thought. He had caught Vanna’s subtly creased forehead. “Are there any city records that seem to be missing?”
“No, in fact, all the records are surprisingly intact,” Vanna answered, gently shaking her head. “All entries, including those for water, power, heating, and sewage, are meticulously detailed and reflect very consistent and plausible figures.”
“Then why the concern on your face?”
“It’s the absence of any reported security disturbances,” Vanna clarified, lifting her gaze slightly. “The column reserved for public safety incidents is entirely empty. What’s even more perplexing is the lack of any birth records or, for that matter, any record documenting the death of residents. Those sections are vacant as well.”
The young guardian at the wheel visibly recoiled, his eyes widening in stark astonishment. Vanna caught his reaction through the rearview mirror. His youthful features contorted into a blend of stark disbelief and sheer wonder.
“It’s such a glaring irregularity, right?” Vanna mused aloud. “Imagine a district where, for years on end, the population neither grows nor declines, and not a single public disturbance or even minor disagreements have been logged. Even our most prestigious upper districts, hailed for their safety, can’t boast of such a clean record. And yet, conventional utilities like water and power are used, suggesting daily life continues. It paints a picture…”
She trailed off, her gaze drifting outside, “It’s almost as if the inhabitants are merely docile shadows of their former selves… Living silently within this secluded bubble, without any growth or loss, devoid of infighting or interactions with the outside world. Their only indication of existence is by routinely consuming resources and periodically sending out benign, ‘all-clear’ signals to the city officials. And in spite of this stark abnormality, no one seems to have noticed it for all these years.”
A palpable, tense quietude settled in the car’s confines, punctuated only by the rhythmic chugging of its steam-powered engine. After a moment that felt far longer than it actually was, Vanna felt a gentle jerk, indicating the vehicle had come to a halt.
“We’re at the chapel now,” the driver intoned.
Raising her eyes, Vanna was greeted with the sight of the local chapel, which, in the intervening years, had slipped from the purview of the main cathedral’s oversight.
From its appearance, the chapel looked like it had been forsaken for ages.
This very site was where the eerie ghost captain had pointed her to.
Memories of incandescent apparitions and a towering, shadowy figure forever imprinted on her psyche flitted through Vanna’s thoughts. She drew a steadying breath, whispered an invocation to the Storm Goddess Gomona, seized her weapon, and disembarked.
An icy breeze blew from the lane’s end, rustling and sweeping up desiccated leaves. Dressed in black, the guardians, tailing closely behind Vanna, neared the seemingly derelict chapel with heightened vigilance.
The crisp noise of the leaves crunching beneath their feet eerily mirrored the sound of fire gnawing at decaying timber.
Out of the blue, the fluttering of wings echoed overhead. Amid the swirling cascade of leaves, Vanna lifted her eyes to witness a pristine dove elegantly alighting on the chapel’s pinnacle.
Its head tilted, the dove appeared to be studying the guardians with a hint of curiosity in its eyes.
“A white dove… An omen of peace, perhaps?” A fleeting thought grazed Vanna’s consciousness, but she brushed it aside almost instantly. Nearing the chapel’s entrance, she gently nudged the partially open door.
A warm, welcoming luminance filled her sight, and standing in this radiant glow was a nun, her face graced with a serene smile.
“Hello, dear sister,” the nun greeted in a soothing tone, “It’s been ages since we’ve had visitors here.”
The guardians tuned in, hanging on to every melodious word the nun pronounced.
…..
In perfect symmetry, gas lamps stood between the towering bookshelves, their luminous flames dispelling the lingering shadows that threatened to envelop the age-old volumes. Each footstep resonated in the cavernous space, deliberate and heavy. It was accompanied by the elderly priest’s almost chant-like whisper: “Seventh row, sixth column, seventh row, sixth column… Records from 1885 should lie hidden here… they must be present…”
Pausing before a particularly imposing bookshelf, the old priest craned his neck to survey the monolith of knowledge stretching skywards. This tower structure was a testament to the city-state’s vast history, safeguarded within its formidable structure and cataloged almost reverently.
His eyes eventually settled on a cluster of ledgers, and he reached out purposefully. The symphony of his mechanical limb’s soft groans and creaks, evidencing both age and wear, permeated the stillness.
“At last! I found it!” An elated gleam danced in the old priest’s eyes, his voice quivering with barely restrained enthusiasm. “To think it was nestled right here in plain sight, especially after our exhaustive search!”
His fingertips hovered tantalizingly close to the sought-after manuscripts.
Yet, his footfalls persisted, echoing alongside the rhythmic murmur: “Seventh row, sixth column, seventh row, sixth column…”
…..
Abruptly, the priest froze.
Erecting his posture, his neck pivoted with a groaning resistance as if corroded over time. His intense gaze scanned the infinite corridors of literature flanked by gas lamps, which featured ornate bases carved with meticulous wave motifs standing vigilant like guardians.
A sound reminiscent of the sea’s rhythmic ebb and flow washed over his thoughts, momentarily illuminating his foggy awareness.
Had the library’s arcane defenses sprung to life? Who triggered them? What was the purpose? Could he have been the one? When did he set these safeguards into motion? What objective had brought him to this sanctuary?
Swiftly, the old priest’s hand darted to the hefty revolver strapped to his side. But in the process, a peculiar sensation coursed through his body.
His arm, which once moved with fluidity, now felt cumbersome and rigid. An abrasive, grating noise echoed, evoking the imagery of long-forgotten metal relics grinding against each other.
His eyes grew wide with astonishment when looking down at what should have been a finely crafted brass mechanical appendage. Instead, he beheld an arm stained with layers of rust and unidentifiable liquid oozing from its joints. Further scrutiny revealed his ragged vestments and a left leg leaking a viscous, ebony fluid.
The sensation was overwhelming as if he’d been meandering through the labyrinthine depths of this archive for decades.
As he observed the apparent decay on his own form, long-forgotten memories, buried deep under layers of dust and time, began to stir within him. Fleeting images flooded his mind: the unexpected arrival of an inquisitor, the meticulous examination of various manuscripts, unsettling accounts of blasphemous rituals, and the mysterious gap of an entire year…
Following their collaborative inquiry, the inquisitor had taken her leave from this repository of knowledge. But the priest remained, steadfast in his mission to locate those elusive records dated 1885…
The gentle lull of waves resounded once more, this time clearer, though still distant and ethereal, as though they emanated from a parallel dimension.
Strangely, it was this faint, otherworldly marine melody that sharpened the priest’s consciousness. As the tangled web of his recollections began to unravel, his cognitive faculties snapped into focus, and he suddenly grasped the monumental implications of his current predicament.
An anomaly of staggering proportions — not just a commonplace one, nor a nefarious supernatural being, nor a sinister hidden orchestrator, nor a phantasmagoric apparition, but a truly gargantuan anomaly!
The very heart of the city-state of Pland pulsed within the clutches of this aberration!
“This is disastrous!” The priest exclaimed aloud, spinning around, attempting to maneuver his unwieldy and deteriorated form towards the safety of his sanctuary.
However, his momentum was abruptly arrested.
Standing before him, in the midst of the archive, was a mysterious, shadowy figure. In the dimly lit space, this uncanny entity held aloft an unusually expansive black umbrella, seemingly shielding itself from a sun that wasn’t even present.
If I’m not mistaken…. This umbrella person is the one covering up the facts and secrets…..
Leave ot to the Umbrella Corporation to be villains even here.
Freaking umbrella corpiration man…
Dang! But I’m glad the old guy wasn’t evil – I was afraid he was in on the plot when Vanna couldn’t remember him.
Hope he survives, though.
I want the umbrella.
Oh no! I hope he survives!
Does he survive ?
With all this… the goddess’s protection doesn’t seem very reliable, does it?
Subspace is scarier than the divine.
Remember that reality here has been breached who knows what she is perceiving Pland as right now.
Since the MC has infected the umbrella man I hope this abberation is the one he infected and he teleports to it