Even though Vanna and Morris had been extensively acquainted, her impression of him had always been of a quiet, studious gentleman. Back in their homeland, Pland, Morris, an elderly scholar, had dedicated the bulk of his time to teaching in the classroom. The rest of his hours were spent either immersed in the vastness of the library or lecturing at various other educational establishments. Due to his academic commitments, Vanna hardly ever had the opportunity to grasp the more peculiar, ‘supernatural’ aspects of this venerable man’s character.
Yet, when they commenced their journey on the “Vanished,” Vanna began to discover a whole new facet of Morris. She started to comprehend the reliance of these seemingly innocuous scholars – devout followers of the God of Wisdom, Lahem – on something quite unusual for conducting their scholarly endeavors. She was getting a glimpse of one of the riskiest professions in their world: the relentless pursuit of knowledge.
Upon reflection, this seemed only logical to Vanna. Scholars were expected to have special and powerful abilities, considering the various entities in this world vying for knowledge, ranging from malevolent demons to spiritual illusions.
Overwhelmed by this insight, Vanna massaged her temples in an attempt to quell the flurry of thoughts. She muttered under her breath, “So you’re this powerful… Had I realized this earlier, I might have dedicated myself more to my studies…”
“No, you were too far behind,” responded Morris, shaking his head, his face showing no emotion, “Physical training suits you better.”
Caught off guard, Vanna retorted, “At least I was able to graduate from Pland’s university…”
Casting a glance her way, Morris dryly commented, “One-third of your credits were for athletics, another third for religious studies.”
The comment left Vanna speechless. After a few seconds of silence, she looked around at the fog that encircled them, awkwardly trying to navigate the conversation away from this sensitive topic, “The cultist you took care of, was he controlling those fake creatures?”
Morris shook his head, “He was probably just one of many controllers. Did you hear the noises from the other districts? The entire city-state is infested with such creatures now, and it’s anyone’s guess how many cultists have slipped into the real world in this dense fog… I fear we won’t be able to eliminate all of them.”
Vanna nodded gravely, readying herself to say something else when she caught something unusual from the corner of her eye. With a soft gasp, she darted towards the dead cultist. Squatting down to inspect the body, she reached out and gripped the collar of his shirt, tearing it open without a second thought.
Underneath the cultist’s torn clothing, his flesh was disintegrating and writhing, presenting a sight akin to being soaked and stained in pitch-black mud. As the life force left the body, the mud’s movement perceptibly slowed, appearing to gradually dry out.
“…Is this another imposter?!” Vanna’s eyes bulged in disbelief as she grappled with the unexpected discovery, “These cultists… do they actually transform their own kind into doppelgangers?!”
“It’s not as simple as that,” responded Morris, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation. He too was thoroughly examining the deceased cultist’s body, recalling the specifics of their recent encounter. After a thoughtful pause, he slowly shook his head, “I sensed his thought patterns, which were distinct from those of the counterfeits. These fake entities display a noticeable discontinuity in their cognitive processes, a hallmark of human uniqueness. Even though they can impersonate ordinary people, they are incapable of maintaining a stable consciousness due to the inherent instability of the ‘primal element.’ This cultist did not have that issue.”
As he elucidated, he gestured towards the decaying flesh underneath the cultist’s chest, which was smeared in black mud.
“More importantly, this area here. Notice he is not entirely composed of primal elements — the primal essence and normal flesh exist in conjunction. It’s more comparable to a form of mutual coexistence, or… self-contamination.”
Vanna stared at the indicated spot for an extended time, her eyebrows knotting in disgust, “These blasphemers willingly pollute themselves with the element? Even replacing portions of their own flesh with it… The very thought is revolting. Even for the Annihilators, this seems to be an extraordinarily perverse level.”
Morris maintained a calm tone, “I don’t see it as particularly different from those who willingly transform themselves into evil demons. These fanatics loathe the natural, mortal flesh. They have always been inclined to alter themselves in the most irrational ways possible.”
With that, he redirected his focus towards the large black book tightly clutched in the cultist’s hand.
After a brief moment of hesitation, the elderly scholar made a decisive move, forcefully prying the book from the deathly grip of the cultist.
“Be careful,” Vanna immediately warned as she watched him, “This book might contain sacrilegious and corrupt material! With the sun’s power diminished, careless contact…”
“Scholars always plunge into the depths of unfamiliar and mysterious books. For us, every reading is a journey of challenge and discovery,” Morris gently shook his head, “Don’t worry, the Lahem school provides specialized training and techniques for reading under these conditions. Your role is to stay alert, and if anything is attracted by this book, assist me in managing it.”
Vanna hesitated for a moment, then earnestly nodded in agreement, “…Alright.”
Morris acknowledged Vanna’s concern with a grunt and then performed a brief, silent prayer. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a small vial filled with an herbal powder. He proceeded to scatter half of it on the ground before setting it alight, then dusted the remaining powder over the mysterious book laid out in front of him. Checking the status of the colored stone bracelet adorning his wrist, Morris solemnly settled himself down, positioning the enigmatic tome on his lap.
The cover of the book was a deep, impenetrable black void of any text or emblems on its surface. Barely discernible complex web-like patterns were engraved on the tough outer cover, giving no indication as to its origins.
Morris gently lifted the cover of the book to examine the contents within.
Meanwhile, Vanna deliberately diverted her gaze, making every effort to evade any potential influence from the book.
A slew of chaotic lines and symbols unfolded before Morris’s eyes.
At first, Morris found the complex array of symbols and lines challenging to interpret. They didn’t match any language or ancient script he was conversant with. However, as he attempted to turn to the next page, the markings within the pages startlingly came to life. The ink metamorphosed into animate, writhing entities, scampering within the paper’s boundaries. This sudden animation of the characters engaged Morris’s attention, and within a mere few moments, he began to discern the narrative buried within the pages.
The symbols and lines twisted and gyrated at a rapid pace. Every element on the pages trembled under his gaze, and the conveyed “knowledge” was etched directly into his mind!
An instinctual thought flashed across Morris’s mind, triggering the protective and stress-response mechanisms hardwired into his subconscious. In the next instant, his primary consciousness detached itself, his rationality strengthened, and he became an observer. From a remote, ethereal viewpoint, he was able to observe his “self” in the real world while calmly and clearly scrutinizing the content emerging in his brain.
“…The council of the forgotten kings met time and again, solidifying the initial plan…”
“Those forsaken, their flesh would disintegrate under the light…”
After reading only these two sentences, the illusionary “projection” of Morris abruptly furrowed his brow.
This was reminiscent of a note brought back by a young informant named “Crow” when the captain initially led the team to explore the second water route! It was that cryptic, unidentified, and suspected ancient record of a “holy text”!
A subtle change swept over Morris’s eyes, and he instantly compelled his body to flip through the pages. His eyes absorbed the blasphemous and distorted text, building corresponding knowledge-based memories in his mind. He then inspected this content from the perspective of an observer within his head.
As Morris delved deeper into the holy text, he discovered that, indeed, the passages followed those recorded by Crow, though they appeared as fragmented sentences:
“…Following the departure of the forsaken clan, the formation of the universe proceeded according to plan, with the forgotten kings embarking on the creation of the original and ultimate blueprint…”
“However, the initial design was promptly abandoned, as the ripple effects of the Great Annihilation continued to disrupt the mortal world… The kings amalgamated dust into stone, and stone into celestial bodies, but these stellar creations crumbled and shattered, unable to withstand the trials…”
“The King of the Pale Giants, referred to as ‘Ta Ruijin’, fell during the first extended night of Genesis…”
“…The kings then initiated the design of the second blueprint. They chose one from among them to play the role of the creator. The first selected was the Dream King, also known as the ‘King of Knowledge and Memory’, a mighty being who had demonstrated true feats of creation…”
“But the second design also faltered, and so the Dream King was torn apart during the second extended night of Genesis, with a fragment of him clinging to the periphery of the real world…”
“The execution of the third blueprint was assigned to another king, referred to as the ‘King of Darkness, or the ‘Master of the Swarm’. He is the collective sovereign of innumerable formless entities, holding the power of creation and the reversal of creation… In truth, he is also known as the ‘elder brother of wisdom’.”
“…The King of Darkness commenced his work. During the third extended night, he bestowed the blueprint upon the swarm and appealed for assistance from the remaining clans. To prevent meeting the same fate as the Dream King and the King of the Pale Giants, he fragmented the blueprint, replacing the multitude of nations in the mortal world with twelve hundred city-states. He delegated governance of the first ten cities to a specific clan, bestowing upon them the title ‘Crete’.”
“The third extended night hence passed peacefully. This was seen as a positive outcome.”
“However, the forgotten kings took issue with the King of Darkness’s amendment of the blueprint and obstructed his path back to the holy throne. However, the clan of the ten cities expressed gratitude to the King of Darkness. Fearing to praise this king openly before the other kings, they conferred upon him a different revered title. They referred to him as the Holy Lord, also known as — The Nether Lord.”
