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  3. Chapter 318 - Journal Of A Madman II
Records of Rebirth

Chapter 318 - Journal Of A Madman II

According to the Journal these Labyrinths were all eventually abandoned by the gods which led to a series of wars with different races trying to claim ownership over them, in an effort to take the relics they contained.

It wasn't too far-fetched to believe considering I had one of these relics in my posession. But after reading a quarter of the Journal, I had to wonder if half the things the sorcerer said were true. 

Some of it was simply too unbelievable. 

How did he amass so much knowledge in such a short time?

Most of the things he'd seen and done were beyond the capabilities of a mortal, sorcerer or not. 

Perhaps something happened during his travels or the absence of his family as a child turned him into some sort of ruthless monster...but even that wouldn't explain half of the unbelievable things I had read.

And yet, I couldn't stop pouring through its pages, like a forbidden book whispering to me all its secrets, even as it just got uglier and uglier as years flowed into decades.

Earlier entries had complete sentences rich with detail, but the more it continued, the more tormented and paranoid the sorcerer became.

π•¬π–“π–”π–™π–π–Šπ–— π–‹π–†π–Žπ–‘π–šπ–—π–Š.

𝕴𝖙 π–˜π–Šπ–Šπ–’π–˜ π–™π–π–Š π–—π–šπ–’π–”π–šπ–—π–˜ π–†π–‡π–”π–šπ–™ π–™π–π–Š π•·π–”π–˜π–™ π–™π–Šπ–†π–—π–˜ 𝖔𝖋 𝕸𝖆𝖔𝖑 π–œπ–Šπ–—π–Š π–‹π–†π–‘π–˜π–Š. 

𝕴'π–›π–Š π–‡π–Šπ–Šπ–“ π–˜π–Šπ–†π–—π–ˆπ–π–Žπ–“π–Œ 𝖋𝖔𝖗 π–™π–π–Š π–‹π–Žπ–“π–†π–‘ π–ˆπ–”π–’π–•π–”π–“π–Šπ–“π–™ 𝖋𝖔𝖗 π–‰π–Šπ–ˆπ–†π–‰π–Šπ–˜ π–“π–”π–œ. π•­π–šπ–™ π–Šπ–›π–Šπ–—π–žπ–œπ–π–Šπ–—π–Š 𝕴 π–™π–šπ–—π–“, 𝕴'𝖒 π–‹π–†π–ˆπ–Šπ–‰ π–œπ–Žπ–™π– π–‰π–Žπ–˜π–†π–•π–•π–”π–Žπ–“π–™π–’π–Šπ–“π–™ 𝖆𝖓𝖉 π–‹π–†π–Žπ–‘π–šπ–—π–Š π–Šπ–›π–Šπ–—π–ž π–™π–Žπ–’π–Š. π•―π–Žπ–‰ π•°π–›π–†π–‘π–žπ–“ π–‘π–Žπ–Š? 

𝕴 π–˜π–π–”π–šπ–‘π–‰ π–“π–Šπ–›π–Šπ–— π–π–†π–›π–Š π–‘π–Šπ–™ π–π–Šπ–— π–‘π–Žπ–›π–Š

What was he searching for that required so many sacrifices? I couldn't wrap my head around it.

The further I read the more disjointed the passages became, the text becoming more of an ugly scrawl. 

𝕬𝖒 𝕴 π–ˆπ–π–†π–˜π–Žπ–“π–Œ 𝖆 π–•π–”π–Žπ–“π–™π–‘π–Šπ–˜π–˜ π–‰π–—π–Šπ–†π–’β€¦π•΄ π–“π–Šπ–›π–Šπ–— π–‡π–Šπ–‘π–Žπ–Šπ–›π–Šπ–‰ π–Žπ–“ π–•π–‘π–†π–žπ–Žπ–“π–Œ π–Œπ–”π–‰β€¦ 

π•­π–šπ–™ 𝕴'π–›π–Š π–“π–Šπ–›π–Šπ–— π–‡π–Šπ–Šπ–“ π–™π–π–Žπ–˜ π–ˆπ–‘π–”π–˜π–Š 𝖙𝖔 π–•π–Šπ–—π–‹π–Šπ–ˆπ–™π–Žπ–“π–Œ π–Žπ–™

π•¬π–‹π–™π–Šπ–— π–’π–Šβ€¦π•΄ π–ˆπ–†π–“'𝖙 π–˜π–™π–”π–• π–“π–”π–œ...π–™π–π–Š π–œπ–”π–—π– π–’π–šπ–˜π–™ π–ˆπ–”π–“π–™π–Žπ–“π–šπ–Šβ€¦π•΄'π–›π–Š π–†π–‘π–—π–Šπ–†π–‰π–ž π–‘π–”π–˜π–™

𝕴 π–ˆπ–†π–“'𝖙 𝖆𝖋𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖙𝖔 π–‹π–†π–Žπ–‘

There were several pages like this, sentences that started before breaking off abruptly. It was like the sorcerer was trying to explain something but couldn't bring himself to.

I couldn't help thinking he was suffering from some sort of loss.

It was obvious he was driven by this 'work' he was doing and his failures were driving him insane. And yet he continued to remain fixated.

Other times his ramblings gave way to extremely detailed entries.

π•²π–†π–—π–‰π–Šπ–“ 𝖔𝖋 π–…π–‰π–Šπ–˜π–‘π–†π–›, 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝕰𝖑𝖋 π•»π–”π–•π–šπ–‘π–†π–™π–Žπ–”π–“ [100,000] π•Ύπ–™π–†π–™π–šπ–˜: π•―π–Šπ–˜π–™π–—π–”π–žπ–Šπ–‰. 

π•³π–Žπ–Œπ– π•½π–šπ–’π–Žπ–‘π–šπ–˜, 𝕰𝖑𝖋 π•»π–”π–•π–šπ–‘π–†π–™π–Žπ–”π–“ [4,000,000] π•Ύπ–™π–†π–™π–šπ–˜: π•¬π–ˆπ–™π–Žπ–›π–Š.

π•¬π–π–Šπ–†π–šπ–˜, 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖑 π•»π–”π–•π–šπ–‘π–†π–™π–Žπ–”π–“ [1,200,000] π•Ύπ–™π–†π–™π–šπ–˜: π•·π–”π–˜π–™ 𝖙𝖔 π–™π–π–Š π•¬π–‡π–žπ–˜π–˜.

Before diverging into more ramblings.

I shivered at the words "Lost to the Abyss", questioning and doubting if this was truly what I thought it meant.

His thoughts on it were blunt and to the point, like he was nothing but an observer.

𝕬𝖓 π–šπ–“π–‹π–”π–—π–™π–šπ–“π–†π–™π–Š π–‡π–šπ–™ π–“π–Šπ–ˆπ–Šπ–˜π–˜π–†π–—π–ž π–˜π–†π–ˆπ–—π–Žπ–‹π–Žπ–ˆπ–Š.

But I couldn't help shivering in terror. 

The Abyss was nothing to be trifled with. 

If a tiny serpent like me could accidentally unleash a small wave and nearly kill everything around me, I could only imagine the astronomic scale of the disaster that led to the death of millions.

Was it not stopped in time? 

How did the sorcerer survive it?

The Abyss was an insatiable devourer that consumed everything if left to run amok, so there was no way he escaped unscathed.

I did notice his ramblings only seemed to worsen after this point, so perhaps he had witnessed it and was suffering the consequences. Future entries from his point on only seemed to detail his life as a hermit. 

He kept moving from place to place, living in isolation with nothing but spells and experiments to occupy him.

After this, I searched for other entries made about the Abyss, but couldn't find any except a few lines of rushed text. 

π•±π–—π–†π–Œπ–’π–Šπ–“π–™π–˜ 𝖔𝖋 π–™π–π–Š π•¬π–‡π–žπ–˜π–˜ π–›π–Žπ–˜π–Žπ–‡π–‘π–Š 𝖔𝖓 π•¬π–Šπ–”π–“ π–†π–—π–Š 𝖓𝖔 π–‘π–”π–“π–Œπ–Šπ–— π–˜π–ˆπ–†π–—π–ˆπ–Š – π–™π–π–Š π–‡π–Šπ–†π–šπ–™π–Žπ–‹π–šπ–‘ π•½π–šπ–Žπ–“π–˜ 𝖔𝖋 π•Ύπ–žπ–—π–Žπ–‘π–‘π–Žπ–† π–ˆπ–”π–’π–Šπ–˜ 𝖙𝖔 π–’π–Žπ–“π–‰, π–†π–˜ π–ˆπ–‘π–Šπ–†π–— π–™π–”π–‰π–†π–ž π–†π–˜ π–™π–π–Š π–‰π–†π–ž π–Žπ–™ π–œπ–†π–˜ π–ˆπ–”π–“π–˜π–šπ–’π–Šπ–‰. π•Ίπ–šπ–— π–‰π–Šπ–˜π–™π–—π–šπ–ˆπ–™π–Žπ–”π–“ π–Žπ–˜ π–Žπ–“π–Šπ–›π–Žπ–™π–†π–‡π–‘π–Š, π–Žπ–‹ π–™π–π–Š π•¬π–‡π–žπ–˜π–˜ π–˜π–šπ–ˆπ–ˆπ–Šπ–Šπ–‰π–˜ π–Žπ–“ π–‹π–Žπ–“π–‰π–Žπ–“π–Œ 𝖆 π–›π–Šπ–˜π–˜π–Šπ–‘. π•΄π–™π–˜ π–˜π–Šπ–†π–—π–ˆπ– π–œπ–”π–šπ–‘π–‰ π–Šπ–π–•π–‘π–†π–Žπ–“ π–œπ–π–ž π–‹π–”π–”π–™π–π–”π–‘π–‰π–˜ π–†π–•π–•π–Šπ–†π–— π–˜π–” π–‹π–—π–Šπ––π–šπ–Šπ–“π–™π–‘π–ž.

I didn't know what to think about this.

Most of the Journal's other entries made me shake my head in confusion, but this one was downright terrifying.

What did he mean by a vessel? Could the Abyss even take on a physical form?

I couldn't help looking at my stats that now seemed particularly sinister. 

It didn't help that I had such glaring titles.

[Abyss Magic: LV5] and [Ruler of Abyss] were like twin arrows pointing directly at my skull.

It couldn't be. 

I curled into a cocoon, to hide myself behind my wings.

It couldn't be me, right?

I glanced around suspiciously, but the shadow realm was just as quiet as before.

No way.

How coincidental would it be that an ancient book stolen from a Grandmaster just happened to predict the arrival of a phenomenon to the person that just so happened to read it. 

I laughed out loud, taking comfort in the fact that the Journal was absolutely bonkers.

The likelihood was impossible!

Why would the Abyss want a serpent for its vessel? 

Wouldn't it choose an elf or something more powerful like a Dragon?

As much as I wanted to trust it, there were so many things that made me doubt the sorcerer's sanity, as well as the Journal's authenticity.

While some of its contents were very dubious, I wondered if its pages were protected with magic, considering it had survived this long. To test this, I stabbed a page with my tail, succeeding in ripping through the 'leather', only for the hole I created to seal itself within seconds.

How interesting!

[Mind's Eye] revealed there were indeed some protections on the pages, but strangely the Journal was also very damaged.

Some pages were completely blank without a single scribble or drawing, while others were like patchwork, completely covered in scrawly text in places, while hopelessly blank in others. 

There were also many pages that looked like they had been singed off with fire, or spoiled where the ink had bloomed to wipe away all traces of what was written. 

If the Journal could repair itself then why didn't it fix these pages?

I had a feeling the Journal had been tampered with, and likely forced to reveal its contents by the Grandmaster who owned it. 

Perhaps its default state was blank. It would explain why so many of its pages had no text while others were completely covered like a textbook. 

Only about half of the Journal's total contents were visible, which really made me wonder.

If it had been tampered with this much, who knew how much had been changed from the original? 

Another thing that made me doubt its authenticity were the dates. 

Every entry had a numerical date assigned to it, the earliest being 562 AX. But when I compared the date of the first entry to the last one at 920 AX, I discovered the sorcerer had lived for more than 300 years.

It was at this point that I ran out of belief points, because how was that possible?

Sensei once mentioned that mortals were similar to humans. Since they often lived in harsh environments fighting for resources with monsters and beings much stronger than they were, the lifespan of the average mortal was 35 years. 

70 years if they could use magic and up to 90 years if they were lucky, or extremely proficient.

The Journal's first entry clearly described a mortal boy who began his journey as a farm boy in a rural country. There was no sign of the Journal ever changing hands, as the handwriting remained the same from start to finish, despite how rough it became. 

So how could a farm boy live to be this old? If he was mortal wouldn't that make him a fossil?

I scratched my head, unable to figure it out.

Was his unnaturally long life the result of his experiments?

Was this the reason why he was so urgent to finish?

Although it was hard to believe, I was glad I read it, and I intended to keep it.

It detailed all the things this sorcerer had witnessed, the good, bad and forbidden, from strange experiments, evil religions, elf breeding secrets, civilizations extinguished during his travels, to experimental mutants and hybrid monsters born out of forbidden magic.

Perhaps the elves had come back for it because it was valuable. 

I could understand how something like this going missing would bring some serious repercussions to us.

After reading the Journal, I understood the world was much wider than I imagined. Not everything was clear either, which was exactly why I needed to keep it with me. Perhaps when Sensei returned, he would explain more.

Besides, I would need it if I was going to explore and meet other people. 

If anything, it would be great to know which pitfalls to avoid when meeting other races for the first time.

Still, a part of me was curious to know who would create such a dubious item.

I had some idea it didn't belong to the elves, but I still needed a name, or a signature to prove it, so I searched the Journal for any trace of its true owner's identity.

The earlier entries were the least interesting, but they held the most detail about the sorcerer's early life. If he had a name, It was going to be there.

But after searching through every broken page, I found nothing. 

I frowned. It seemed the Journal was determined to swindle me till the very end.

How stubborn would a person have to be, not to leave a name?

It seemed I would have to unlock the rest of its pages if I wanted to learn that much.

Unfortunately I did not have much time.

On the atlas, the nestlings were progressing rapidly, so I exited the shadow realm to join them. 

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