CHAPTER 20
[BORROWED MEMORIES...]
Norma sensed that each maiden statue carried a deeper symbolism. Etched into the underside of every offering tray were lines of ancient writing—inscriptions carved with precision and reverence.
Strangely, he understood all of it.
Knowledge he had never possessed suddenly filled his mind. Languages he had never learned became second nature, as though they had always belonged to him. His gaze moved slowly across the maiden statues within his sight as he murmured under his breath.
"These are… the Statues of the Weeping Maidens."
His eyes lit up suddenly, as if recalling a memory long forgotten. Yet the truth was different—he had not remembered it. The words had come instinctively, as though some unseen part of him recognized what the statues truly were.
"Strange… it feels like my mind is flooded with memories that aren't mine," he whispered, raising a hand to his forehead for support. A faint discomfort crossed his expression.
"…Something about these statues…" he muttered, pausing. "…It almost feels as if… they're warning me of something… No… warning us."
The realization unsettled him.
"The ritual proved beyond doubt that we are the six vessels…" he thought.
"But… is that actually a good thing? Could the ritual have been a mistake?"
A chill crept down his spine.
"I have a really bad feeling about this place."
He turned to look behind him. A corridor stretched endlessly into the distance, swallowed by absolute darkness—just far enough beyond the reach of the light from the flaming torches.
[ORION'S PERSPECTIVE]
The scene shifted to Orion.
Unlike Norma, Orion stared in pure amazement. He hurried from one maiden statue to another, studying each with cheerful curiosity.
"Wow, this place is huge!" he exclaimed, excitement sparkling in his voice as he grabbed and examined anything within reach.
"Whoa! Look at all this treasure!" he said, eyes widening. He picked up a piece and weighed it in his hand. "I can't believe it… it's real solid gold. Everyone's gotta see this…"
He grinned to himself.
"Man, I can't wait to see their faces when I tell them about all the treasures I found. They're gonna be so jealous."
He chuckled softly—until a thought suddenly struck him.
"…Come to think of it… where is everyone?"
Silence answered.
"I know we all did the ritual together… so why am I the only one here?"
He frowned, thinking hard.
"How should I put this… It's almost like they're here with me, but at the same time… they're not." He scratched his head thoughtfully.
"Hmm… If Norma were here, I'm sure he'd be able explain it."
He shrugged.
"Maybe they're ghosts or something...Sounds logical to me."
Stretching lazily, he sighed.
"Well… that settles it. I'm sure they're all fine. As long as I can still sense their presence, they must be somewhere around here."
His attention returned to the statues. Golden molten tears streamed down the maidens' motionless faces, instantly capturing his curiosity.
There was no way he would pass up exploring a place like this.
Treasure lay scattered in massive heaps along both sides of the chamber, glittering like small mountains—history and meaning completely lost on him as he moved through them with carefree enthusiasm.
Despite his playful nature, Orion is an assassin by instinct, highly perceptive of his surroundings. It was less a skill learned from training at the foster care and more an innate talent—an unconscious awareness that kept him attuned to subtle changes around him.
Drawn forward, he stepped deeper into the corridor of offerings, following the path lined with torches, pillars, and silent weeping maidens.
He walked along the path for several minutes, yet nothing seemed to change. There was no end in sight. The corridor stretched endlessly ahead, as though it continued forever.
Nothing new appeared—neither to his right nor his left, nor even in front of him.
Curious, he turned back to see how far he had come.
His heart sank instantly.
The maiden statues he had passed moments ago had changed.
From what he remembered, each statue had stood with its head bowed, offering tray raised forward as though presenting something to an unseen recipient. Now, however, their posture was different. The maidens stood upright, their backs straight, the offering trays lowered and held at their sides by one arm—as if they had finished serving whatever once rested upon them.
A cold unease crept into Orion's chest.
He quickly turned toward the statues ahead of him. Those lining the path in front still held their trays up, heads bowed in silent reverence.
Slowly, he looked back again.
The statues behind him remained upright, trays lowered.
The contrast unsettled him deeply.
His mind raced as he steadied his stance, instinctively assessing potential threats. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though the statues were alive—watching, waiting.
Their forms were not made of gold alone. Subtle adornments of color decorated their bodies. Many bore ancient ornaments: both nipples pierced and connected by delicate golden chains that descended toward their navels—a beauty standard of a forgotten age.
Then he noticed something even stranger.
The darkness.
A thick, fog-like abyss lingered beyond the reach of the torchlight. At first distant, it now seemed closer… advancing with every step he took.
It swallowed everything behind him.
Statues that had once stood clearly within view vanished as the darkness consumed them. The longer Orion stared into it, the more it felt as though he might fall into an endless void.
Sweat formed along his skin despite the humid air. His knees weakened, barely supporting him.
He stepped backward slowly, eyes fixed on the approaching darkness, trying to confirm whether his mind was deceiving him.
It wasn't.
The darkness was moving.
Each time he passed a torch, its flame extinguished almost instantly, allowing the abyss to creep closer.
Orion stopped completely.
He inhaled deeply… then exhaled.
Forcing himself to calm down, he decided to do the one thing he had neglected since arriving—the one rule he never broke as an assassin.
Maintain perception at all times.
He closed his eyes and assumed a steady stance.
A high-perception radius expanded outward from him, extending beyond ten meters in every direction. This time, he held nothing back. His awareness stretched farther and farther, reaching down the endless corridor and pushing deep into the consuming fog of darkness.
Then—
His body turned cold.
He froze.
A chilling presence gripped him, unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was as if life itself threatened to leave his body.
His eyes snapped open.
Pure fear filled his expression—eyes wide, breath trembling. He gasped for air like someone jolted awake from a nightmare.
Bending forward, he struggled to breathe.
The presence… it came from the darkness behind him.
Something within that fog was wrong—unnaturally wrong. Its mere existence pressed against his senses, forcing sweat to pour down his skin.
Unable to endure it, Orion staggered backward several steps.
"W–wh… who's there!?" he stammered, struggling to force the words past his trembling lips.
A heavy footstep answered him.
Boom.
The ground shook beneath his feet.
Another step followed.
Boom.
Slow. Deliberate. Approaching.
The creature remained hidden within the thick fog of darkness, its form completely obscured. There was no silhouette, no outline—nothing to measure its true size. Yet the violent tremors and thunderous weight of each step told Orion all he needed to know.
Whatever was coming… was larger than the maiden statues.
Its approach was steady at first, one step at a time.
Then suddenly—
The footsteps quickened.
The rhythm shifted violently, as though the creature had broken into a run. The darkness surged forward ahead of it, swallowing space itself as it advanced toward Orion.
Without warning, a bone-chilling scream erupted from within the abyss.
The sound fractured into countless voices—men and women wailing together, overlapping in agonized harmony. Their cries repeated broken words and fragmented phrases without meaning or context.
It was deafening.
The loudest sound Orion had ever heard.
The moment the scream erupted, all strength left his body. He froze, mind struggling to comprehend what was happening. Only seconds ago, everything had seemed calm.
Reality had not caught up with him yet.
Then it did.
His primordial instincts ignited.
Adrenaline surged violently through his veins.
Orion ran.
He did not hesitate. He did not look back.
Moments ago, fear had rooted him in place—but now survival itself controlled his body. He sprinted in the opposite direction of the darkness, moving purely on instinct.
And his instincts were right.
The torches lining both sides of the corridor began extinguishing faster than he could run. Flames died one after another, plunging everything behind him into absolute darkness.
The abyss was advancing.
Swallowing everything.
And Orion understood one terrifying truth:
If the darkness claimed him—even for an instant—there would be no escape.
No return.
He felt it deep within his bones.
Against his better judgment, he glanced back.
His face drained of color.
The darkness was only inches away.
The voices grew louder, more aggressive—countless men and women screaming over one another, repeating the same words again and again. Their emotions clashed violently: grief, rage, despair, terror—all spiraling into madness.
The abyss nearly consumed him.
One stumble would mean death.
Orion knew it.
So he did the only thing he could.
The only thing Orion would do in a life-or-death situation.
He turned the tables.
With explosive force, he leaped into the air—far higher than gravity should have allowed. His body arced upward toward one of the massive white pillars lining the corridor.
His feet struck the surface.
He pushed off instantly.
Then another pillar.
And another.
He began vaulting from pillar to pillar, each kick propelling him farther ahead, creating precious distance between himself and the pursuing darkness.
Below him, the torches extinguished in rapid succession, perfectly synchronized with his leaps—as though the abyss chased the rhythm of his movement itself.
Then Orion noticed something.
Amid the chaotic screaming, the voices were repeating a single name.
Over and over.
The sound struck something deep within him—a memory that did not belong to him, yet felt impossibly familiar.
He frowned mid-leap.
Who… are they calling?
And why did hearing that name feel like remembering something he had never known?