Chapter 698: The Figure on the Throne

Chapter 698: The Figure on the Throne

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.

A figure with short black hair, dressed in a pristine white robe, sped past, catching only the edge of Duncan’s vision. It seemed for a moment that the figure was merely an illusion. Duncan watched as the stranger headed into the enigmatic depths of Vision 004, eventually vanishing behind a wall.

As Duncan’s thoughts swirled with terms like “Doomsday Observer” and “The Doomsday Survey Team,” he became ignited with a fierce curiosity. He turned to the towering figure beside him and asked eagerly, “What is the purpose of these people?”

“They are tasked,” replied the Tomb Guardian calmly, “with navigating the streams of time, confirming that the sanctuary remains true to the creator’s design within our known temporal limits, and detecting when the system is set to fail.”

As they ventured deeper into the mysterious ‘Tomb of the Nameless King,’ Duncan’s interest grew with the Guardian’s explanation.

Time-traveling observers tasked with predicting the Great Annihilation... Could such a thing truly exist?

Suddenly, Duncan looked up, his eyes sweeping across the ancient-style architecture, the walls, and columns of the corridor. Another, deeper question emerged. “What exactly is this place?” he inquired, feeling as though he was questioning himself more than the guardian.

Upon asking, he realized the odd nature of his question, almost rhetorical, yet he sensed the Tomb Guardian would grasp his true intent.

“This location,” the Guardian began, his clear, resonant voice capturing Duncan’s attention, “is the first and last Cretan Observation Post. Long ago, there were twelve hundred such Doomsday Observation Posts, ten of which, known as the Cretan posts, were directly under our control.”

Duncan’s thoughts raced, recalling a passage from an ancient text he had studied—

“To avoid the tragic fates of the Dream King and the Pale Giant King, He split the blueprint, transforming nations into twelve hundred cities, the first ten entrusted to that clan, thus named ‘Cretan’...”

It clicked suddenly—Vision 004 was indeed a relic from the ancient Kingdom of Crete, a monument enduring over ten thousand years, still serving its purpose as an ‘Anomaly’!

Furthermore, the heretical book he had once read was proven right again. The ‘twelve hundred cities’ it mentioned were real, not separate city-states, but twelve hundred ‘Doomsday Observation Posts’!

Those known as ‘The Doomsday Survey Team’ set out from these posts, traveling through time to monitor the sanctuary’s functioning and establish its ‘temporal boundary’ at the brink of operability...

Then, suddenly, a vast space caught Duncan’s eye. Pulled from his thoughts, he gazed in awe at the immense landscape unfolding before him.

“... That’s because they’ve gone mad,” Duncan murmured softly.

“Oh,” the Tomb Guardian simply nodded and continued his slow, contemplative advance.

After some time, as if musing aloud to himself, he began, “At the beginning, they sent back a wealth of information—within the first contact cycle after their departure, they relayed news from the era of city-states. They chronicled the rise and fall of the Distant Sea Alliance amid the darkness. They reported the vanishing of the Kingdom of Crete and jubilantly announced the ‘sun’s’ emergence. The details they provided were laden with elements we struggled to fathom, aspects not envisaged in the original blueprint. Yet, in the creator’s subsequent recalculations, the emergence of these anomalies seemed not just plausible but inevitable...”

He halted his steps, his gaze lifting to rest on the massive, ominous throne at the center of the square. A protracted silence followed, during which he seemed to be lost in a sea of thoughts. Eventually, he softly shook his head.

“Then, their messages became sporadic and increasingly cryptic. Sometimes... the content was beyond our comprehension. It seemed as if they had ventured too deeply into the currents of time or perhaps too far beyond our initial scope of understanding...”

“The communications we received from them often contained contradictions and appeared out of chronological order, a phenomenon that became more frequent over time. According to the creator’s calculations, this was expected, given the nature of the sanctuary as a finite construct—it’s like a beacon casting its light into the wilderness. Time is the expanse this light travels across; the farther it reaches, the more it encounters the undefined, encroaching darkness... At the very edges of time, if they found no other beacon, it meant there truly was nothing more to discover or report...”

The Tomb Guardian paused, his silence extending into an undefined abyss of time. Then, almost as if speaking to the air, he murmured, “It’s been a long time since they last sent back any messages...”

Duncan remained silent, his gaze fixed on the imposing, dark throne before him, seemingly designed for a being of colossal stature. His eyes slowly climbed to the figure seated upon it.

A headless form sat there in stillness, an intricate network of massive cables and conduits wrapped around the body like veins and nerves. These connected to various interfaces and ports on the throne itself, some still flickering with the dim light of residual activity. Within some tubes, a semblance of vital circulation was visible, with a mysterious fluid flowing in and out.

At the sight of the headless figure, Duncan’s expression subtly changed, his mind recalling a scenario once described to him by Ted Lir. Yet, a profound sense of recognition emanating from the figure struck him deeper, sending a shiver of unease through him.

He stood there, transfixed by the sight for what felt like an eternity. Finally, compelled by a force he couldn’t resist, he uttered, “In subspace, there’s a headless body seated on a black throne...”

“That’s his shadow,” the Tomb Guardian replied softly, his voice echoing with hidden depths. “When the creator took his body, he could only claim a part of it—he was torn apart, not just physically but in every conceivable way. His memory, soul, shadow, thoughts, past, and future... all fragmented during the Second Long Night. The creator brought this part of him here while his shadow remained at the place of his initial demise.”

Suddenly, Duncan turned to face the Tomb Guardian, a spark of recognition lighting up within him as he looked back at the figure on the throne. Driven by a pressing need for answers, he demanded, “Who exactly is seated on the throne?”

“Saslokha,” the Tomb Guardian revealed, his voice heavy with ancient knowledge. “The creator fashioned the original ‘Cretan’ (create) in his own image.”