Advent of the Three Calamities

Chapter 301: The Tomb of Oracleus [4]

Within the small, empty room, the tomb stood eerily still, the purple words etched upon it glowing faintly in the dim light, casting a dim glow over the space, highlighting the faint cracks that webbed across the tombstone, like a spider’s intricate design etched into the stone.

“Emmet Rowe…”

Leon repeated the name. It was an unfamiliar name. Something he had never heard before, and was seeing for the first time.

Nonetheless, he started to understand something.

Emmet Rowe was the Seer’s true name.

“Hoo.”

He took a deep breath, feeling his heart pound at his throat as he finally found a clue to the origins of the unrecorded.

That strange world he had seen… Was that the world where the Seer came from? A distant future?

The more Leon thought about it, the more confused he became. Everything came to him so suddenly that he hardly had any time to properly sort out his thoughts.

At least until a sudden smashing sound shattered the silence.

Bang!

Stunned, he turned toward the source of the noise and saw Julien furiously smashing the ground beneath the tombstone, his face numb to the point of indifference.

Bang, bang!

“What are you doing?”

Leon hurriedly reached for him, but Julien shook his hand off and turned to face him.

As Julien struck the ground, he simultaneously retrieved a small, familiar vial. The moment Leon caught sight of it, his expression shifted abruptly.

“That…!”

He recognized the vial in seconds.

How could he not react when he had been injected with that very same liquid back in the strange, cult-like environment? The memory of the experience sent a cold shiver down his spine as he recalled the numerous deaths he experienced.

Immediately, Leon understood Julien’s intentions.

The thought made his jaw grow slack.

“Are you planning on reviving him?!”

“Yes.”

Julien nodded, smashing the ground again.

“….You said that the blood of Mortum is like an elixir. It can revive anyone as long as they take it, right? If that’s the case, I’ll use it on him. We’ll be able to get answers this way.”

Bang!

Julien once again smashed his fist against the ground.

The tombstone trembled faintly, and the ground beneath Julien’s fist began to cave in. Just as Julien raised his hand to strike again, Leon suddenly lunged forward, clasping his forearm tightly.

Plack!

“…..”

Julien silently raised his head to look at Leon.

Holding onto Julien’s forearm, Leon’s expression twisted

“Stop.”

“….Why?”

Julien’s voice came out chillingly cold, his eyes appearing hollow.

“Is something wrong with my plan?”

“It won’t work. The blood won’t work.”

“…..”

Julien stopped, his expression hard to read.

“What do you mean by that?”

His voice turned hoarse.

Pursing his lips, Leon let go of Julien’s hand. He then highlighted the obvious.

“It’s been so long. Do you really think the blood will work?”

“….”

Julien remained silent, his eyes fixated on the tombstone. Leon could tell at a glance that Julien understood the concept all too well. Yet, despite that understanding, he still looked like he wanted to try it.

There was a certain sense of desperation in his eyes that took Leon aback.

Why was he like this?

Why was…

“Ah.”

It then suddenly hit him.

“Did you manage to get a clue as to how you found yourself in Julien’s body?”

“….”

Julien’s silence spoke volumes, and Leon drew a cold breath.

“I see.”

Leon started to understand why Julien appeared so desperate, but…

“Still, stop.”

“….What if—”

“It won’t.”

Leon cut him off, grasping what Julien was trying to say. He understood it all too well—He still wanted to see if the blood would work. Despite the amount of time that had passed, he still believed it was possible to revive him. The power of Mortum’s blood was strong, and there was a slim chance that someone who had died for so long could be revived.

Nonetheless, there was a problem with the entire thing.

“Regardless of what you do, it won’t work.”

“Why?”

Julien’s brows twisted into a frown, his voice growing more hoarse.

“Why do you keep saying this?”

He was bordering on anger and frustuation.

That’s when Leon turned his attention toward the grave with a complicated look.

“Because the Blood of Mortum doesn’t work on him.”

“….?”

Leon recalled some of the murals they had seen, particularly those beneath the well. One image stood out vividly in his mind: a man holding a dying person in his arms, his hand outstretched toward the man’s mouth. Blood dripped from his hand as he desperately tried to bring it close enough to save him.

The anguish and desperation were vivid in every stroke of the mural, the tears of blood streaming down his eyes further accentuating the desperation he felt.

He didn’t understand who the man in his grasp was, but now he had a faint idea.

‘It’s probably Oracleus.’

It was only one static frame, and yet, the mural told more than a thousand words.

Especially to Leon who had a deeper understanding of the unrecorded.

He knew that the unrecorded had all consumed the blood of Mortum to increase their lifespan. All with the exception of Oracleus.

….He was the only one to die.

But why…?

If he so desperately wanted to save Oracleus, why did he still die?

An idea suddenly forged itself in his mind. It was a crazy idea, but upon thinking about it, he thought it was possible.

What if…?

He held his breath at the thought.

“….What if it’s because they’re related?”

***

Leon’s words struck my mind like lightning bolts, paralyzing me with their intensity. I slowly turned my head to face him, the reality of the idea sinking into my mind.

“What did you just say?”

“Hm?”

Leon appeared startled at first. Possible because he didn’t think that he’d voice out his thoughts like that, but he eventually frowned and shared his thoughts.

“What if Mortum and Oracleus are related?”

“…..”

I found myself swallowing the musty, humid air of the environment. It felt suffocating, and I felt that my mouth had gone completely dry.

I had long since lost any sensation of my heartbeat.

“Wha… What makes you think that they’re related?”

“It’s one of the only explanations.”

Leon went on to explain,

“The blood of Mortum essentially regenerates a person’s body down to the very last cell. As long as there’s a single cell left, the blood can restore the body to its original state. We’ve both already experienced its miraculous effects so you should know best.”

Leon gave me a certain look.

“….”

I stood in silence as Leon started to ponder over his words.

“I’m not too familiar with the concept, but all of us have distinct marks that make us unique.”

DNA…

“The blood directly rebuilds the body from the ground up, creating an entirely new form based on the remains, using Mortum’s mark as a reference. But what if the mark is almost entirely similar to the one found in the cell? What would happen then?”

“Ideally, it would be able to recreate it more easily.”

“Ideally, yes, but…”

Leon paused, his expression growing more certain.

“…I believe the concept is similar to how blood-related members can’t reproduce with each other. There’s a certain rejection that stops the blood from fusing.”

I pursed my lips, the words unable to leave my mouth.

Leon stopped there as well.

“It’s only a thought, but there’s a chance Mortum and Oracleus are related.”

Leon laughed a little as he looked at the tomb.

“It’s quite sad if you think about it. Mortum. He’s immortal, and he has the power to revive everyone in the entire world except…”

His hand traced over the tomb.

“…His own family.”

Something squeezed tightly at my chest as I struggled to breathe properly.

The more Leon talked the deeper the pain in my chest became as I felt my mouth tremble.

‘No, this is just a theory. It’s not true.’

I tried my best to reject the entire notion. I didn’t want to hear about it. I didn’t want to believe it to be true.

How could this be?

How could this be!?

But the more I rejected it, the more I realized the possibility of it.

Especially when I was made to recall a certain experience from not too long ago. During the time when we were abducted by the Archpriest.

Back then, we had all been subjected to the blood of Mortum.

…I had been as well.

At first, I wanted to scream at how I was still alive after being injected with the blood, but then I came to a realization.

‘I’m in a different body.’

My ‘genes’ were far different than that of Emmet’s. It wouldn’t be strange of the blood to work.

I felt my breathing grow heavy.

“Haa… Haa…”

That’s because I was reminded of something else.

…My memory loss.

“Ah.”

The world around me slowed down and my vision grew hazy.

As I recalled the time at which I lost my memories, I came to one realization.

‘I lost my memories right after the blood was injected into me.’

I swallowed quietly.

It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?

‘Hahaha.’

I wanted to laugh, but my mouth refused to open. In recreating my entire body, the last thing I would’ve expected was for it to bring back the memories of my time as Emmet. It would make more sense if my memories became that of Julien, but…

The fact that the memories that I recalled were that of Emmet suggested one thing.

‘Though it’s very thin… there’s a little bit of my old blood within me.’

But how?

How was this possible?

“Ukh.”

I clutched my head as a searing pain overwhelmed me, like a gigantic hammer relentlessly smashing against my skull, shattering it into fragments with each blow.

“Hey, are you okay?”

What brought me out of it was Leon as he tugged my shoulder lightly.

I could hardly think or stand properly.

My entire body was drenched in sweat, and as Leon looked at me, he tilted his head.

“Something has been off about you since we’ve entered this place. I know you’ve found something, but what is it?”

“….”

My mouth opened but no words came out.

I thought about telling him everything that I knew. That I was Emmet Rowe. That there was a chance Mortum was my brother. And that the world he saw was my world.

But I stopped myself from doing so.

How much did I truly know about Leon? He seemed to know quite a lot about the ‘gods’ and ‘unrecorded’. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, but I didn’t know him well enough to know his objectives.

What if he had a grudge against the so-called unrecorded?

….At the same time, I also wasn’t sure of what to make of what I was seeing.

Holding onto my breath, I looked at the tombstone.

‘Oracleus. Emmet Rowe.’

And then I looked at my hands.

Am I really…

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