(Time-Stilled World, Conclave of the Ancients, Leo's POV)
After reading the second book, Leo quickly moved to a third and fourth, hoping for more answers about the Great Dimming, but neither gave him what he was looking for.
They did not dwell on the death of Zharnok, nor the divine war that led to this world's corruption, but instead focused heavily on what followed immediately after—the collapse of society, the splintering of beliefs, and the descent of the populace into something far worse than death.
These books were different in tone compared to the second one. They were much less poetic, and were not filled with speculation, but rather only observation, as though the authors who wrote these books did not care for the mysteries of gods or the divinity they once revered, but were instead trying desperately to document and survive in a world that no longer followed age-old rules.
The first journal he read spoke of broken cities and wandering cults. It talked about priests who began sacrificing their own kin in the name of restoring divine order, and about warlords who used the confusion to crown themselves false prophets.
It spoke of beast hunts that went horribly wrong, of how even the obedient tamed species began attacking their owners, as though the very foundation of loyalty had been unthreaded from the world.
The next book was worse. A fragmented collection of testimonies, pieced together from people who had lived through the earliest days of the Dimming.
Each entry grew more unhinged than the last, as Leo read through stories of blood rituals to bring back the stars, of children being sacrificed by their own mothers and of families turning feral under moonless nights.
One particular entry caught his attention was a field report from an unnamed scholar, who wrote with eerie calm about a place known as "The Deep String" or in Leo's rough translation, "The Singing Canyon."
At first, Leo thought nothing of it. Until he read the description.
A deep, winding gorge that ran at the edge of a great rainforest, filled with exposed mana veins and crystal ridges.
It was said that when one meditated on the edge of this canyon, they could hear the resonance of the world itself, like a soft song being sung that guided warriors towards clarity and enlightenment.
The ancients believed that the canyon's song was the voice of Zharnok himself, a frequency so pure that it could wash away doubt, fear, and pain.
Meditation was easier there. Breakthroughs came quicker. And those who spent long hours listening to the canyon often came back changed—calmer, wiser, more whole.
Leo's heart beat a little faster.
Because the more he read, the more convinced he became that this canyon—this Deep String—was the very one he'd fallen into.
The crystal walls. The exposed mana vein, and the soft singing he could hear at the surface, all indicated that it was the same place.
However, something had clearly changed.
As after the world dimmed, the characteristics of the Deep String changed as well.
It became more twisted, its harmony shattered, as the melody that was once a tool for enlightenment, now curdled into a dissonant drone that clawed at the ears of anyone who lingered too long.
The resonance that once soothed, now gnawed at the soul, like a whisper that started pleasant but grew sharper the longer you listened.
Some called it the "God's Grief."
Others said it was the death cry of the world, still echoing through the hollow bones of the earth.
However, Leo saw it for what it really was…. The song of the tainted mana.
Leo put the book down slowly, as his breath caught in his throat.
According to the last warning in the book, the song of tainted mana had turned many of the world's finest warriors into mindless beasts, as after Castle Bravo, it was considered as the second most dangerous place in this entire world, that one wasn't supposed to visit under any circumstances.
"Well fuck…. Someone should have told me this sooner…." Leo cursed, as he realized that he was now trapped within that same canyon that fell under one of the most forbidden zones.
—----------
On his sixth book, Leo finally uncovered the secret of how this Conclave came to be, and it was quite the interesting story.
It wasn't built as a hideout or a survival shelter.
This place was once one of the most advanced magical research facilities in the entire ancient world.
According to the book, it had been established at the peak of the empire's prosperity and was a neutral ground where scholars, researchers, and priests from all tribes gathered to push the boundaries of magical science and divine theory.
The brightest minds of the time worked here, shielded from political agendas, cult rivalries and religious segregation with the sole purpose of understanding the flow of mana, the influence of divine resonance, and the architecture of the soul.
The records described it as a towering pillar of enlightenment— home to seven towers, each dedicated to a different school of knowledge.
The mural room that Leo now sat in was once part of the Central Archives, a place where the most sensitive information was copied, preserved and guarded behind hundreds of layers of enchantments.
But when the Dimming began… everything changed.
As the world darkened and the cities above crumbled, the Head Mage of the Conclave made a final decision.
He ordered a full lockdown of the facility, sealing off the entrances, collapsing the spiral staircases, and instructing his apprentices to bury the way behind magical wards, enchantments, and brute force.
Not because he feared what was outside.
But because he wanted what was inside to survive.
According to the last pages of the book, the Conclave was not meant to be a bunker— it was meant to be a vault. A place where truth could sleep. A place where knowledge would not decay alongside flesh.
The Head Mage wrote that he knew his people would fall. That the madness in the air could not be cured in the short term, but he still hoped that when someone did find a cure to this madness, and they were ready to restart civilization, they would not have to start from zero, and would find all the knowledge the Conclave had to offer to give them a head start.
> "I seal the conclave in hopes that one of the 12 origin beast descendants will someday discover the mural room and uncover the secrets to saving this world, that's hidden inside the mural"
That line made Leo pause.
He reread it again. Slowly. Carefully.
"one of the 12 origin beast descendants will someday find the mural room and uncover the secrets to saving this world"
Leo blinked, torchlight flickering against his wide eyes.
He looked back at the mural, at the twelve beasts gathered beneath the sun, and his gaze naturally shifted once again to the twelfth— the crimson dragon with its wings folded in and its eyes shut.
As he now wondered if there was more to that damn painting than he initially understood?
Afterall…. It did make him quite anxious when he gazed at it.