They were all names, dates, as well as 'cause of death’. The oldest date he could recognize at a glance was 1315, over a decade ago. Subconsciously, his hand clutched tighter onto the wooden box against his chest.
He wanted to ask why she chose this location specifically. However, when he turned over, Rosaline was kneeling on the floor, her hands clasped together, resembling a praying posture.
“I, as the Keeper of the Sanctuary, pray for the watchful gaze of the Great Mother.” Her voice was soft, almost angelic-like, and for a moment, it soothed his heart in ways Ulrich could not apprehend.
At the same time, the candles stirred, as though the spirits of the dead Watchmans had come back to life.
“I pray for the blessings of the Lady of the Night.”
This time, the candle lit ablaze, forming a raging inferno that melted away the darkness. And with that, warmth arises from the cold, stone floor.
“I pray for your guidance, your wisdom, and ears over your children as the witness to another lost lamb!”
Rosaline raised her hand to perform a horizontal slash. Immediately, the shadow moved in tandem with her gesture, taking the form of a gaping mouth. From it, a silver dagger appeared and floated in the air.
Her breath grew cold, to the point that when she exhaled, Ulrich saw a trail of white mist that followed. He watched as she took the dagger and plunged it into the ground.
Then, she whispered in Hermes, “Shadow Veil.”
Instantly, the entire space between Rosaline and Ulrich stretched, or at least, he thought so. This feeling, it was as though an invisible barrier stood between him and the outside world.
This sense of isolation made his body cold. He can’t help but walk to the ‘edge’ of the barrier, and taps his finger against the air in an attempt to grasp its form.
There’s nothing there…
“A conjured ‘veil’, you can imagine it as a barrier,” She explained briefly.
“The purpose is to contain you in the case that you fail. It doesn’t work on normal humans.” Her voice became broad and heavy as it echoed off the dense wall.
Are you already expecting me to fail?
For a brief moment, Ulrich remained silent. He didn’t utter a word, simply staring at Rosaline’s entrancing figure.
After about two minutes, he sat on the stone floor at the center, placed down the wooden box, then looked up at her and asked, “What do I do now?”
“All you need to do now is to swallow it.”
“Won’t I get constipation?”
“Trust me, you won’t.” She chuckled lightly, shaking her head.
His brows furrowed, nonetheless, Ulrich raised his hand to open the top of the box, revealing that black gem with the ominous ‘smile’ inscription. This time, he didn’t dare to stare or look at it directly, only letting it sit in his peripheral vision.
However, Ulrich did not follow Rosaline's instruction just yet. He took in a deep breath, then exhaled, letting out a trail of cold mist, “If I fail, do I turn into that thing?”
Rosaline's eyes flickered, though that gentle smile, which was like spring, never escaped her rosy cheek.
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“What does that mean?” He blurted aloud.
“Abominations are formed from madness and corruptions to the ‘self’. It is the loss of the self, amplified by order of magnitude, which births the ugly thing we call Abominations.”
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Saying so, her eyes narrowed. “I do not know if you will become one or not, because I do not know if you will turn mad or be corrupted…”
In the end, the one thing she can say to ensure him is this,” Often, if you fail to awaken, then you simply won’t wake up. This is most cases.” Yet quickly, her voice dropped to a whisper.
“At least this way, you can have a proper burial.”
So much for assurances, Ulrich was never the kind who needed such reassurance in the first place. It was good to have some, and it mattered not when there were none.
With that thought, he reached his hand into the box, then grabbed the Shadow Rune tightly in his palm. Immediately, a peculiar stream of coldness bit his finger, making him wince. This feeling reminded him of dry ice.
After realizing that he could not hold onto it for long, he raised his hand and stuffed the black gem into his mouth, then swallowed it in one gulp.
Cold— No, it's hot! Too hot!
This feeling was strange, like he had just swallowed raw magma and ice at once. His eyes were weakened—all he saw was Rosaline’s gentle smile and the flickering candles in the background, as well as the countless memorial tablets staring at him.
Simultaneously, the pain overcame him, placed him on his knees, and made him cough desperately. It was like his body was rejecting the foreign object that was shoved down his throat. And in that same moment, the residues of strength lingering inside his body completely escaped.
From a distance, Ulrich's body resembled a deflated balloon, absent of air. Gradually, his consciousness withered and faded as the shadow gripped onto his spirit.
At the same time, Rosaline's voice echoed in his mind,” Whatever you hear, do not listen. Whatever you see, do not look. Steady your mind.”
“Reality is often not what it seems…”
Do not listen… Do not look… He repeated in his heart.
There was blackness, a black beyond black, and a void beyond void. In this void, he could hear ‘it’, countless voices and murmurs overlapping one another. They come together to form dense mist, images, and indescribable forms. These forms were like a storm of thunderous chaos that cannot be conceptualized by man.
In this moment, his ‘body’ spiraled out of control, as though someone had plucked it from space and shoved him down the ocean.
Am I drowning?
There was a weight, the kind that clung onto your clothes like wet mud—no, it was worse than wet mud, more like sticky honey. In this depth, the water wasn’t water, and the voices weren’t voices. Truths and falsehoods were seemingly mirrored.
“Londor…”
This word again? Wait, no, don’t listen! I shouldn’t listen!
“Blue Stars…”
These voices that repeated the two words were distinctly male, of the same person, but was it truly a person? Ulrich raised his hand to block his ears, only to realize he could not move. Just trying to move a single inch of his arm took considerable effort and time.
“Londor… Blue Stars…”
1. Sheep 2. Cats 3. Dogs 4. Alligators 5. Sparrows 6. Dolphins 7. Hummingbirds….
He started parallel counting to occupy his mind and restrain his ability to process new information as quickly. Ulrich believed that he would be fine since he could not process what was ‘spoken’ and ‘whispered’ to him in a comprehensive manner. In this way, he still heeded Rosaline's advice.
And so, Ulrich continued to 'sink' perpetually in these endless depths of the ‘ocean’. The voices and whispers, murmurs and cries, all overlapped to form a madman’s raving. There was only one thing he could do—keep counting, toward infinity.
It was unknown how much time had passed, but to Ulrich, it felt like an eternity.
“Children…” This time, it was a feminine and soft voice, like a warm blanket amidst a cold winter. However, Ulrich continued counting, as though he couldn't hear it.
Eventually, a ray of light appears in the depths of unceasing darkness. Once again, Ulrich recalled Rosaline’s words, and he did not look.
Do not listen. Do not look. He reminded himself.
Outside, in the memorial hall.
Rosaline's face was solemn, somber, like snow had fallen in spring. Her radiant and cheery glow was absent, and her eyes never fell off Ulrich’s colorless figure.
He was currently sitting upright. In fact, since he’d swallowed the Shadow Rune, Ulrich's position never changed—he had never moved. The violent reaction and desperate coughing—they never occurred.
From Rosaline's view, Ulrich simply took the rune, closed his eyes, and then lost consciousness. Since that moment, only one minute had passed.
In the silence of the memorial hall, Rosaline fiddled with her hair, though she never let out a sound as she sat outside the veil.
After about three minutes, her finger paused in the air, then a subtle smile grew on her rosy cheek. She watched as the color returned to his body. Seeing this, Rosaline patted her clothes of dust, then stood up, waiting for Ulrich to open his eyes.
When he did, she took the initiative to applaud him, “Congratulations, you are now officially a Rank 1 Weaver, Shadowmancer, and our new Watchman. How do you feel?”