I Transmigrated Into A Goddess Body In Another World: But I'm a Man Chapter 52: The Journal of the Last Witness

The damaged archive chamber felt unnaturally quiet as Zereth held the weathered journal in both hands.

The faded cover looked ordinary.

Too ordinary.

After everything they had uncovered, Mason expected sothing dramatic.

Ancient relics should glow ominously or release forbidden energy. That seed like standard behavior for ancient mysteries.

Instead, the journal looked like sothing a tired scholar might carry around for notes.

Unfortunately, the words written across the front made it impossible to dismiss.

Property of the Last Witness.

Athlian’s reaction traveled through the soul bridge instantly...the feeling of standing before a door you once knew but could no longer rember how to open.

Mason felt his stomach tighten.

Zereth carefully opened the first page.

The paper crackled softly.

Several lines of faded writing appeared.

The silver-eyed immortal studied them for a mont before speaking.

"The ink has deteriorated."

"Can you read it?" Mason asked.

"Partially."

Everyone moved closer.

Even the archive workers were staring.

One elderly keeper looked seconds away from fainting.

The first lines were damaged beyond recovery.

Entire sections had vanished.

But several sentences remained.

Zereth read slowly. "’The heavens continue watching. The crown continues pretending not to notice.’"

Silence followed.

He continued. "’The Tribunal has not acted openly. Yet.’"

That word imdiately caught Mason’s attention.

Tribunal, again.

The mysterious organization kept appearing in fragnts.

Always present.

Never explained.

Just enough to remain irritating.

Zereth turned the page, there was more damage and missing sections.

Then another intact paragraph appeared.

The immortal frowned.

"What?" Mason asked.

Zereth hesitated.

Then read aloud.

"’The Witnesses were never guardians. That misunderstanding cost us everything.’"

The chamber beca still.

Mason folded his arms.

"aning?"

"No idea."

"Wonderful."

The universe continued maintaining its impressive streak of providing mysteries without answers.

One of the archive keepers nervously adjusted his glasses.

"The Witnesses were historians perhaps?"

Another shook his head.

"Then why erase them?"

A reasonable question.

Nobody had a reasonable answer.

Zereth carefully turned another page.

The next section appeared more intact.

His eyes narrowed.

Then he quietly read. "’We record what the gods refuse to rember.’"

Athlian froze.

The reaction hit Mason like a sudden chill.

A wound buried so deeply it normally remained hidden.

The emotion vanished almost imdiately.

But Mason felt it.

Enough to make him uncomfortable and wonder what Athlian wasn’t saying.

The journal continued for dozens of pages.

Most were damaged while so were entirely blank.

Others contained coded markings nobody recognized.

Hours passed inside the archive chamber.

By the ti sunset approached, they had recovered only fragnts.

Yet the fragnts painted a troubling picture.

The Witnesses had operated independently.

Neither temple nor crown controlled them.

Their purpose involved observing sothing connected to the gods.

And sobody had worked very hard to erase every trace of their existence.

Which naturally raised an important question.

Why?

As the workers carefully secured the journal, Zereth closed the cover.

"I want this moved to a protected vault."

One minister imdiately objected.

"The Coalition will demand access."

"They can demand whatever they wish."

Zereth’s voice remained calm. "They are not receiving this."

For once, nobody argued.

The journal felt dangerous, not because it contained power but because it contained information.

In Mason’s experience, information caused far more problems than monsters.

Monsters were straightforward.

Secrets were not.

By the ti he finally left the archive wing, darkness had settled across the palace.

His head hurt.

His patience had vanished.

And Athlian remained unusually quiet.

Never a good sign.

He walked through one of the quieter corridors toward his chambers.

Several guards saluted as he passed.

A few servants hurried by carrying docunts.

The palace never truly slept anymore.

Too many problems, investigations and frightened politicians.

As he rounded a corner, another figure appeared.

Ancient immortals possessed an almost supernatural ability to appear at the worst possible monts.

The silver-haired immortal stood beside an open window.

Moonlight illuminated part of his face.

His expression remained unreadable.

"You’re becoming predictable."

Mason sighed. "Hello to you too."

Assura ignored that.

"The journal was found."

Mason narrowed his eyes. "How do you know everything?"

"I listen."

"That’s unsettling."

"It should be."

Not remotely comforting.

Assura studied him for several seconds.

Then his gaze shifted slightly past him toward sothing only Athlian could feel.

The atmosphere changed subtly.

Yet unmistakably.

"The mories are returning."

Athlian imdiately beca tense.

Mason felt it.

Assura noticed. "The pace is accelerating."

"No cryptic statents tonight," Mason said.

"I’m tired." He added.

A faint smile touched Assura’s lips.

Rare enough to be concerning.

"You should be."

Then the immortal stepped away from the window.

For a mont he looked older emotionally like sobody carrying a burden far too heavy for far too long.

The expression vanished almost instantly.

Yet Mason saw it. And strangely enough, it made him uneasy.

Before leaving, Assura spoke one final sentence.

"When the journal reaches the middle pages, stop reading alone."

Then he walked away.

Mason stared after him. "I hate when he does that."

Athlian quietly agreed.

The following morning brought another council session.

Mason considered faking his death.

Unfortunately, that strategy seed difficult to explain.

The council chamber was already occupied when he arrived.

Seraphine sat at the head of the table.

Several ministers argued over docunts.

Coalition representatives occupied one side.

Draca stood near the entrance.

And Zereth looked exhausted. ÑA familiar sight lately.

The eting began imdiately.

Political tension filled the room.

The Coalition wanted transparency.

The temple factions wanted authority.

The ministers wanted control.

Nobody trusted anybody.

Which apparently qualified as governance.

The discussion centered around the archive discoveries.

Several delegates demanded access.

Others insisted the information remain restricted.

Argunts escalated quickly.

Mason spent most of the session wondering how intelligent adults managed to behave like angry children.

Eventually one Coalition representative slamd a hand against the table.

"The kingdom cannot continue hiding information."

The room fell silent.

Seraphine’s gaze hardened. "We are not hiding information."

"Then release the records."

"The investigation remains incomplete."

"Convenient."

That single word shifted the atmosphere instantly.

Even Mason noticed.

Political danger.

The representative realized it too late.

Draca moved slightly.

The room remained tense for several seconds.

Then Seraphine calmly smiled. Sohow that felt more dangerous than shouting.

"The Coalition is welco to submit formal requests."

The representative sat down imdiately.

The eting continued.

Eventually it ended without bloodshed.

A remarkable achievent.

As people began leaving, Zereth approached Mason quietly.

"We need to talk."

They moved into a smaller side chamber.

Draca followed.

The commander closed the door behind them.

"What happened?" Mason asked.

Zereth placed several copied pages on the table.

"More translations."

Mason imdiately regretted asking.

The immortal pointed toward one section.

"We recovered additional text from the journal."

Mason leaned forward.

The writing looked faded but readable.

One paragraph had been reconstructed almost entirely.

Zereth read aloud. "’The gods fear many things. Mortals misunderstand this. They believe divinity removes fear. It does not. It rely changes its shape.’"

Nobody spoke.

The statent felt important.

Though Mason wasn’t entirely sure why.

Draca frowned. "Fear of what?"

"I don’t know."

Zereth looked troubled.

"The next sentence is damaged."

Great. Of course it was.

The important sentence was always damaged.

That seed to be a law of the universe.

Then Zereth revealed another page.

This one contained only a single surviving line.

A single sentence.

Yet it made Athlian react instantly.

"’The first lie began before the fracture in heaven.’"

The soul bridge pulsed violently.

Mason gripped the edge of the table.

Draca imdiately noticed. "You alright?"

"Fine."

The commander looked unconvinced but didn’t press further.

For which Mason was grateful.

The conversation continued another hour.

Theories erged.

Questions multiplied.

Answers remained scarce.

By sunset, everybody possessed more concerns than before.

A productive day by palace standards.

That night Mason finally returned to his chambers.

Exhaustion settled heavily over him.

He collapsed into a chair near the balcony.

The city stretched beneath the evening sky.

Thousands of lights illuminated the capital.

Life continued despite conspiracies, fractures and gods.

For several minutes he simply sat there.

Listening to distant sounds while thinking deeply.

Eventually Athlian spoke.

Her voice sounded unusually quiet.

’I rember sothing.’

He straightened imdiately.

"What?"

A long and hesitant pause followed.

’I don’t know if it’s real.’

His heartbeat quickened. "What do you rember?"

’A door.’

Not exactly the answer he expected.

"A door."

’Yes.’

"What kind of door?"

The feeling that traveled through the soul bridge was difficult to describe but he felt her fear.

’A door that should never have been opened.’

Mason frowned. "That’s not helpful."

’I know.’

For several monts neither spoke.

Then another fragnt erged.

’A crowd.’

Mason waited.

’A hall full of people watching.’

His pulse quickened.

The sa hall from the dreams.

The sa sensation.

The sa mory fragnts.

"What were they watching?"

Athlian’s answer ca almost imdiately.

And sohow that made it worse.

’I don’t know.’

The confession felt genuine because she truly didn’t know. Or couldn’t rember.

Then suddenly...pain exploded through the soul bridge.

Athlian gasped.

He shot upright.

The sensation lasted only a second.

Yet it felt like sothing had violently torn through a mory.

An image flashed across his mind.

A massive doorway.

Golden chains.

Countless figures kneeling.

And above them...and an enormous symbol.

A symbol he had never seen before.

The vision vanished instantly like it had never existed.

He breathed heavily.

Athlian remained silent.

Completely silent.

Then he noticed sothing small and terrifying.

A faint golden mark had appeared on the back of his hand.

A symbol identical to the one from the vision. And as he stared at it, Athlian whispered three words.

Words filled with disbelief.

Words she clearly never expected to say again.

’That’s impossible...’

The mark suddenly pulsed once. And sowhere beneath the palace, sothing answered.