Chapter 68: Twenty Years Ago

Twenty years.

Twenty years once again.

Luo Wei’s eyes flickered slightly.

She remembered clearly that everything in the eerie version of Kolun County had been frozen in time precisely twenty years ago.

Luo Wei did not rush to explain the details of Hathaway or the eerie Kolun County to Eliana. Instead, after a moment of contemplation, she asked, “Lady Eliana, regarding the Dream Sanctum disaster that happened years ago—can you still find the relevant files in the records?”

“No problem,” Eliana nodded slightly, her answer sharp and certain. “The dossiers of Kolun County are kept very meticulously. The previous Inquisitors were all quite responsible.”

“Good. As soon as possible, I need you to check for a Dream Sanctum sacrificial incident that occurred twenty years ago. It took place across three specific locations in the Lower District: Mill Lane, River Street, and the Foundry,” Luo Wei said. “It should be connected to the disaster the Dream Sanctum tried to manufacture.”

“Fine.”

Eliana nodded, then abruptly reached out and ripped the IV tube from her arm. She stood up from the hospital bed.

“Let’s go.”

Luo Wei was taken aback. “Have you recovered enough for that?”

Eliana glanced at Luo Wei and said, “You don’t understand what kind of job an Inquisitor has.” She sighed. “If you did, you’d understand why I was hiding in the hospital.”

Luo Wei thought for a moment. She recalled the acting Inquisitor she had seen recently—a burly man nearly two meters tall, yet his face had been gaunt and utterly exhausted. It seems… it’s not entirely incomprehensible.

“But since the safety of Kolun County is involved, I can’t just sit idly by.” Eliana hesitated for a moment before asking, “Do you… want to come along and take a look?”

“No, you do the search. I’ll find you at the Tribunal later. If I can’t find you, I’ll use a report letter,” Luo Wei said. “Rest assured, it won’t be one of those weird ones.”

“That hardly matters. It’ll just give the Storm Priests stationed at the Tribunal something to do,” Eliana shrugged. “It’s a rare occasion where the Enforcement Guards can’t substitute for them.”

“…Actually, forget I said that.”

After realizing just how cursed that Feather Quill was, Luo Wei could only marvel at how lucky those people were to still be alive. The only reason they hadn’t completely lost their minds was probably that she hadn’t harbored any genuine malice while writing…

Luo Wei and Eliana walked to the hospital entrance together. Just before they parted ways, Eliana hesitated and said, “The money from before has been deposited into your account. However, due to the recent continuous suppression of the Dream Sanctum, the Tribunal’s budget is a bit tight. I’m afraid this time… I’ll have to owe you for a while.”

The budget had been heavily drained by casualty compensation for the Enforcement Guards and merit rewards. Additionally, the Councilors had been quite vocal lately, making them even more reluctant to allocate further funds.

Eliana hadn’t participated in the aftermath of the Chaworth Manor incident, but she knew the “Lordly” Councilors were furious. They had almost thrown Sir Spengler—the instigator—into prison, and even Sorensen had been caught in the crossfire of their anger due to “negligence.”

At this moment, Eliana could only be thankful she had stepped down as Inquisitor. Otherwise, she would have been working herself into a bloody pulp lately.

Sorensen is the one who truly suffers.

“That’s fine, we’ll talk later,” Luo Wei said cheerfully. She didn’t particularly care about the money; her previous frustration mostly stemmed from not being able to spend it when she wanted to.

After parting with Eliana, Luo Wei hesitated for a moment before expanding Claudia’s Information Stream to check her current status.

Currently, as one of the three High Priests, Claudia was preparing the ritual to advance to Sequence 7.

Claudia treated everything within the Dream Sanctum as a result of the Lady Witch twisting reality. Moreover, since Hume—the one most familiar with the “original” Claudia—was dead, there was very little risk of her being exposed.

Even if Mura felt the current Claudia was somewhat strange, he would only attribute it to the death of her teacher, Hume, or a shift in temperament after becoming a High Priest.

Who could have imagined that a possession could take place at the level of the soul?

Furthermore, this kind of possession could even deceive the gaze of the Divine Envoy and the Lord of Dream-Eating… No one would ever suspect such a thing.

“An advancement ritual…”

The advancement ritual for a Sequence 7 Dream Thief required the person to sacrifice their most precious memory to the Lord of Dream-Eating during the ceremony. The more precious the memory, the better the resonance of the ritual.

Claudia was wavering and hesitant. Her most precious memories were those of her sister.

However, at that moment, Luo Wei transmitted certain information to her through the Information Stream. It wasn’t a direct command, but a subtle, instinctual realization.

“A large-scale sacrificial ritual that occurred twenty years ago in Mill Lane, River Street, and the Foundry?” Claudia frowned slightly. “Twenty years ago, my parents and I should have been living near River Street… did such a thing happen?”

If there had truly been a large-scale ritual by the Dream Sanctum, it was impossible for her to have no memory of it. A ritual that could be called “large-scale” would likely affect every living being within its radius.

Nonetheless, since it was an instruction from the Lady Witch, Claudia did not hesitate long. She went directly to the archives in the library, where all records of the Dream Sanctum’s past rituals were stored.

Watching through Claudia’s perspective, Luo Wei looked at the files and felt an increasing sense of unease.

“It’s blank…”

It wasn’t that the files from twenty years ago were missing—they were blank. For that entire year two decades ago, the Dream Sanctum’s records of sacrificial rituals were a complete void. Not just the rituals, but almost every other type of record as well.

It was as if, at that point in time twenty years ago, the Dream Sanctum simply did not exist…

Claudia went to ask Mura, but received only a dazed answer. He claimed he couldn’t remember clearly and suggested she check the archives. Clearly, the memories of the Dream Sanctum’s priests regarding that year had been twisted to some degree.

“All these coincidences… are by no means accidental.”

Every fact suggested that a truly terrifying disaster must have occurred in Kolun County twenty years ago, one that spilled over into the physical world.

Was it that sacrificial ritual? No, even if that ritual was massive, it would have only affected a few thousand people. Kolun County was dozens of times larger than that; no matter how large the ritual was, it couldn’t have blanketed the entire county. Unless…

Luo Wei began to form a hypothesis, but she needed to return to the eerie Kolun County first to verify some theories.

***

After parting with Luo Wei, Eliana’s expression remained solemn. She strode toward the Supreme Tribunal. The distance between Holy Cross Hospital and the Tribunal was short, which made sense; injuries were a daily occurrence for Enforcement Guards, so being near the hospital was a convenience.

“Good day, Excellency Inquisitor!”

The Enforcement Guards at the main gate immediately stood at attention and saluted upon seeing Eliana, though they couldn’t help but steal a few extra glances. The previous Inquisitor had almost always appeared in light armored combat skirts; seeing her now in a simple, plain-colored dress was truly a novelty.

“I am no longer the Inquisitor,” Eliana glanced at the guards. “Send Sorensen out.”

Under normal circumstances, non-guards and non-priests could not enter the Tribunal directly; they had to be announced. Eliana did not abuse her status as the former Inquisitor to barge in, though if she had, the guards would have likely simply welcomed her inside.

A guard hurried in to report, and shortly after, Sorensen emerged, his face nearly wet with tears. “Excellency Inquisitor, have you finally decided to return?”

The nearly two-meter-tall man looked like he was about to burst into tears. Being an Inquisitor was bitter work; he never wanted the job again as long as he lived.

“Whether I return or not isn’t up to me,” Eliana looked at Sorensen and couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pity. “However, looking at the current situation, you’ll have to endure it for a bit longer.”

Sorensen fell silent for a moment and let out a long, heavy sigh. Those pig-brained Councilors… they really should all die…

“Then, what brings you…?” Sorensen looked at Eliana with some hesitation. Lady Eliana had rushed over without even changing into formal attire; her plain dress looked very much like casual home wear.

“I need to find something in the archives. Take me there,” Eliana said without ceremony.

“Yes, Inquis— Lady Eliana.” Sorensen straightened up. He didn’t find her tone problematic at all, and neither did the other guards. This former Inquisitor had earned that respect.

The archives of the Supreme Tribunal were located on the third basement floor. This was where the dossiers for every supernatural event in Kolun County over the 150 years since the founding of the Kingdom of York were sealed.

Eliana followed Sorensen deep into the third basement. Standing before the archives, she knit her brows tightly.

An icon stood at the entrance, but it wasn’t an icon of the Church of Storms, the state religion. Instead, it was the Gray Goddess.

The entire archive was protected by the “Silence” authority of the Gray Goddess.

“Church of Silence… Hathaway…”

Eliana recited the name in her mind. In her memory, the person “Hathaway” did not exist, and the Church of Silence had been closed for twenty years. If that were the case, why was the archive still using the protective rituals of the Church of Silence?

If no one had managed the church for twenty years, why hadn’t they switched to a ritual of the Church of Storms? Even if the God of Storms’ authority wasn’t as suited to this as the Gray Goddess, it would still be better than a ritual that hadn’t been maintained for two decades. Unless… for these last twenty years, the Church of Silence had existed. Until a specific point in time when its existence was completely erased.

“Perhaps, it isn’t only my memory that has been affected?”

As Eliana pondered, Sorensen used the key held only by the Inquisitor to open the heavy doors of the archive. “Lady Eliana, you can start your search. If you need anything else, just find me.”

Sorensen didn’t intend to pry into what Eliana was looking for. He knew well that whatever Lady Eliana did, she had a reason for it, just like the incident at Chaworth Manor. He only needed to facilitate her.

“Mhm.” Eliana nodded and stepped inside.

The scent of dust-choked history greeted her, but was soon replaced by a soft warmth. Almost every corner of the archive was lit with Holy Flame. These flames had been burning for over a hundred years, guarding the records from being eroded by unknown horrors. Combined with the “Silence” authority, they ensured total prevention of any incidents.

Rumors said that in the fireless darkness, horrors lurked that fed on knowledge. Once they consumed knowledge, they would replace it with unspeakable scripts, causing readers to unknowingly suffer the touch of forbidden taboos.

“If even these records have been modified…” A sense of dread grew in Eliana’s heart. The implications were unthinkable.

She closed her eyes and tapped her heart several times. Soon, the sound of her heartbeat thundered through the archive, and when she opened her eyes again, they burned like fire. These were necessary precautions to prevent accidents during reading.

“Twenty years ago…” Eliana began to search.

Soon, her face grew solemn. Nothing. It was a total blank. This was absolutely impossible. Every year had at least some supernatural occurrences; even if there were no disasters like the Dream Sanctum, terrifying phenomena like The Rainy Night would still be recorded. Yet, at the twenty-year mark, no dossiers existed whatsoever.

It was as if Kolun County, twenty years ago, simply hadn’t existed.

“There is definitely something wrong.”

Eliana shifted her focus and began looking into incidents related to Mill Lane, River Street, and the Foundry. Soon, she discovered some clues. She intensified her search, and after confirming certain pieces of information, she stood up abruptly and walked out of the archive.

In the Inquisitor’s office, Sorensen was busy dealing with trivial paperwork when he heard the door slam open. He looked up to see his former superior looking at him with burning intensity as she spoke urgently.

“Give me the authorization to access the Household Registry at City Hall!”

“Huh? Oh… right!” Sorensen didn’t dare delay. He hurriedly wrote out an application document—usually something the applicant did themselves—and stamped it with the Inquisitor’s seal.

Eliana snatched the paper and strode back toward City Hall.

“If my deductions are correct…”

Twenty years ago, a massive incident involving Mill Lane, River Street, and the Foundry had indeed occurred. Because, among the victims of supernatural incidents over the past twenty years, a disproportionately large percentage of them came from those three specific streets.

The death toll was so high that Eliana suspected… at this point, there might not be a single original resident from those streets still alive.