"Let’s start here..."
The translated journals spread across my desk like pieces of a scattered puzzle, and I begin to assemble them into sothing coherent.
Alaric’s handwriting—now rendered in readable text thanks to Regulus—reveals a man torn between scientific curiosity and growing paranoia.
The early entries are clinical, detached.
He docunts his initial contact with the Enlightened Witnesses of Truth, describing them as "an organization of individuals seeking transcendence beyond human limitations."
This was years after he graduated, of course.
But even as a student, he had displayed signs of what would transform into a terribly destructive obsession.
He had grown intrigued with the supernatural after the fire incident.
After witnessing Zarius—experiencing firsthand the power of a true Leviathan.
That encounter changed him fundantally.
’I must understand,’ he writes in one entry. ’I must learn how they achieve such power. If Leviathans exist, then surely there must be a path for ordinary humans to reach that state. You said so yourself... to beco a Leviathan, I need to witness Apotheosis. The Enlightened Witnesses claim to know this path. I will walk it, no matter the cost.’
Certain entries docunt his involvent with the Cult. He participated in rituals, studied their texts, and even interviewed other mbers to try to gain as much knowledge in such a brief ti.
His impatience was viewed by the other cultists as a virtue, and they called his obsession passion worthy of emulation.
He also used an alias—"Brother Mordecai"—and took great care to keep his true identity hidden.
Smart man.
His writings describes the Cult’s hierarchy, their beliefs, their practices. They worship what they call "The Leviathan Lord"—a being of imnse power who exists beyond normal reality.
The Cult believes that through proper rituals and sufficient sacrifice, they can bridge the gap between humanity and divinity.
They think consuming human essence—literally devouring people in ritualistic ceremonies—will grant them Leviathan powers.
Alaric participated in several minor rituals, docunting the process with scientific detachnt.
But as ti passed, his tone shifts.
’These people are fanatics,’ he writes. ’They speak of enlightennt, but all I see is madness. They consu flesh and blood, convinced it will transform them, but I detect no genuine mystical change. No absorption of Characteristics. No elevation of Existence. They’re simply... eating people.’
The later entries show his growing disillusionnt.
’I’ve made a mistake. The Enlightened Witnesses don’t understand Leviathans at all. Their rituals are theatrical nonsense, their beliefs nothing but superstition dressed in mystical language. They have no real knowledge, no genuine power. Just religious fanaticism and a taste for human at.’
He began planning his exit, carefully distancing himself from the organization. He stopped attending rituals, declined invitations, and slowly faded from their circles.
’I must be cautious,’ he writes. ’These people are dangerous. If they suspect I’m abandoning the cause, they might view as a threat. I’ve ensured my alias can’t be traced to my real identity. As long as I maintain this separation, I should be safe.’
His final entries focus on his own research, independent of the Cult. He was trying to understand Leviathans through empirical study but he also incorporated so of the religious ceremonies he witnessed back then.
It was only a matter of ti before I reached the part where he talked about my entry into the Academy as well as Uncle Damon.
It contains more ramblings.
More promises of enlightennt and ascension.
But then the entries stop abruptly.
No explanation or final words.
Just silence.
’This must have been when he tried what he considered to be Apotheosis and died shortly after,’ I think to myself while sighing.
What an ignorant man.
He didn’t know the nature of what he was investigating even at the very end.
This is by no ans a condescending assessnt.
After all, not too long ago, I also felt like the deceased Professor. If not for Regulus, perhaps I would have also continued to stumble.
But now I understand the link between Alaric Duskryn and the Enlightened Witnesses of Truth.
More importantly, scattered throughout the journals are nas and locations.
These include Cult mbers Alaric encountered, Temples he visited, and even Safe houses where the organization conducted their activities.
I cross-reference these with the information Regulus provided.
One na appears in both sources: Marcus Wellspring, a rchant who operates in the Capital’s comrcial district.
’This is it,’ I think, excitent building. ’Our major concrete lead. We must find and interrogate this person first.’
I imdiately summon Klein and share the discovery.
"Marcus Wellspring," I tell him. "He’s connected to the Cult. Find him. Bring him in for questioning. Use the Royal Knights if necessary, but take him alive. Most importantly, do so discreetly."
Klein nods and departs with renewed determination.
’Hehehe!’ My lips curl upward with overwhelming joy and imnse vigor.
This is it!
A breakthrough in this case!
*******
The next few weeks blur into a frenetic cycle of investigation, capture, and interrogation.
We find Marcus Wellspring hiding in a warehouse on the city’s outskirts. He tries to resist, but the Royal Knights overwhelm him quickly. Under interrogation, he reveals the locations of two more Cult mbers and another Temple.
We raid the Temple, rescue more victims, capture more cultists.
Each captured mber leads us to another.
Each Temple we discover contains clues to the next location.
It feels like progress.
Like we’re finally dismantling the organization piece by piece.
We uncover their recruiting thods—targeting the desperate and disillusioned, promising them power and purpose. We learn about their hierarchy—low-ranking mbers like those we’ve captured, mid-level administrators who coordinate logistics, and high-ranking priests who conduct the actual rituals.
But we never find the high-ranking mbers.
They’re always one step ahead, evacuating before we arrive.
Still, we persist.
Every raid saves more victims.
Our interrogation also provides more information.
But... It’s like an endless chase.
A journey with no end.
Then—
During one interrogation session, a cultist lets sothing slip.
"You’re too late anyway," he laughs, blood trickling from his mouth. "The Grand Ceremony is coming. The Enlightennt Ritual. All the sacrifices we’ve gathered—all the special ones we’ve been saving—they’ll be consud in one glorious offering."
My blood runs cold.
"When?" I demand. "When is this ceremony?"
"Soon," he whispers. "Very soon. In five days. And when it happens, your friends will beco part of sothing greater. Their essence will fuel our ascension. They should be honored."
I leave the interrogation chamber and imdiately check the calendar.
If he’s telling the truth—if the Grand Ceremony is only days away—then I’m running out of ti.
Seraphina. Jonathan. The Third Prince. Lord Krawford.
All the other missing people.
They’ve been kept alive for this.
For one massive ritual!
’We’ve investigated using clues from Regulus’ letters and Alaric’s journals, and we are yet to exhaust the leads. Maybe consulting them again will give us more clues regarding the Threshold that they are all rambling about.’
I decide to return to Alaric’s journals with desperate urgency, searching for any ntion of such a grand ceremony.
Perhaps the location, too...
But as I arrive in the room where all the necessary docunts are kept, I discover sothing impossibly strange.
—None of the docunts are present!
"W-what?!"
At first, I wonder if these docunts were moved without my permission or notice.
Upset, I confront the guards and everyone else involved in this investigation with . But this is when I discover sothing even more distressing.
"What docunt are you talking about?"
"We haven’t found anything for the past couple of weeks."
"Nothing has co up yet."
"Temples? We invaded Temples? Other than the first one almost two months ago, I am not aware of any other raids."
"We have neither captured nor interrogated any of the Cult mbers besides the first four we caught back then."
"Marcus Wellspring? Who is that?"
"Javier... are you feeling well?"
No, I should be the one asking Klein and everyone else involved in this investigation that question.
None of them rember everything we have done these past few weeks.
No, that isn’t quite right.
Instead, it appears they have completely different mories of how we spent our ti investigating, and how nothing of note has co up.
I try to appeal to evidence, but none of them are present!
None of Regulus’ letters or Alaric’s notes can be found.
What of the prisoners?
The several cult mbers we captured and interrogated before imprisoning?
None of them can be found!
There are simply no records of us ever even capturing any of them!
What in the world is happening.
Am I losing my mind?
Did I hallucinate everything we went through these past few weeks?
No... No, that isn’t it.
It’s a lot more sinister than that!
My hands start to tremble as I co to a terrifying realization.
Soone has changed the past!
What did they change?
Regulus Heathcliff’s package!
If it never arrived, we would never have made any progress with our investigation.
We would never have found any nas or arrested anyone. None of the things I rember would have occurred at all!
As proof of this, all the docunts and the signs of our progress are gone—as though they never existed. The mories of everyone are also attuned to this new reality that corresponds with this fact.
But what about ?
’Why do I still rember the past as unchanged? I don’t have mories of this new reality the sa way others do.’
Is it because I am a Leviathan?
I don’t know... but that is the only explanation that makes even a lick of sense!
But—
’If we haven’t captured any of those people, then that ans they must still be out there sowhere!’
Thankfully, thanks to spending weeks imrsed in this investigation and personally overseeing all of their interrogation, I still have their information morized.
"Get all the Royal Knights ready!" I tell Klein imdiately, shoving aside the terror that is rapidly building up within .
"We’re going on a major raid! We’ll sweep down all the adversaries at once."
My instincts tell it is pointless.
My better judgnt tells to stop.
But I cannot!
I refuse to!
’We only have a few days left, and I’m the only one who knows it!’
Ti is of the essence!
We need to follow these people and find the Cult’s Threshold sohow!
But—
"It didn’t matter in the end..."
Two days have passed now, and the ti was enough for to accept the horrid truth.
There is no point.
All the clues we had fell into the hands of the Leviathan who went to the past.
They took away all our docunts and erased our progress. Not just that, but all of the Cult mbers we knew about and investigated were also eliminated by ’natural causes’ in the few weeks after.
What does this an?
It ans our progress has been completely upturned! In this new tiline, the past few weeks have been used to eliminate all potential clues we could possibly explore.
And I am powerless to do anything about it!
I am stuck in the present.
Two days... maybe three days if I’m lucky.
That’s how much ti is left until the Grand Ceremony that will seal the fate of all those who were kidnapped.
What now?
What can a lone Rank 1 Leviathan like do?
Nothing!
Things that should exist simply... don’t.
Things that ought not to exist... do.
Reality itself has been rewritten.
Is this the true essence of a Leviathan’s power—moving the world?!
Only one power could accomplish this.
Not Frontflow, which increases the user’s flow of ti.
Not Tracing, which only allows movent through space.
This is sothing else.
Sothing more profound.
More dangerous!
—Jumping.
Past Jumping, to be precise.
The ability to travel backward in ti and change events before they occur.
Or...
... Change events that have already occurred!
The more I sink into my thoughts, the further the despair seeps into my heart.
Horror dawns on .
And, the scariest realization of all finally confronts , hitting the final nail on the futility of my actions.
Leviathans can access the Temporal Layers of Existence.
At Rank 1, the limit is the Day Layer.
At Rank 2, this increases to the Week Layer.
But... the past few weeks were altered, starting with the package from Regulus.
I think about the scope of changes.
—Weeks!
That level of temporal manipulation requires imnse power.
Since a Rank 2 Leaper can jump back days, a single week at most, my assessnt was wrong from the start.
This is not the work of a Rank 2 Leviathan.
I am not dealing with a Disciple Leaper...
... But an Adept!
My enemy is a Rank 3 Leviathan!
[A/N: A frightening realization changes everything! How can Javier cope with these terrifying changes, especially with an impossible deadline in front of him?]
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