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.

𝕬𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖚𝖗𝖊.

𝕴𝖙 𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖒𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖚𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕸𝖆𝖔𝖑 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖘𝖊. 

𝕴’𝖛𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖉𝖊𝖈𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖜. 𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝕴 𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓, 𝕴’𝖒 𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖉 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊. 𝕯𝖎𝖉 𝕰𝖛𝖆𝖑𝖞𝖓 𝖑𝖎𝖊? 

𝕴 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊

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 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆 𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒…𝕴 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖌𝖔𝖉… 

𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝕴’𝖛𝖊 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖇𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖙

𝕬𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖒𝖊…𝕴 𝖈𝖆𝖓’𝖙 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖕 𝖓𝖔𝖜…𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐 𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖚𝖊…𝕴’𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖞 𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖙

𝕴 𝖈𝖆𝖓’𝖙 𝖆𝖋𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖑

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.

𝕲𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖅𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖛, 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝕰𝖑𝖋 𝕻𝖔𝖕𝖚𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 [100,000] 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖘: 𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖞𝖊𝖉. 

𝕳𝖎𝖌𝖍 𝕽𝖚𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖚𝖘, 𝕰𝖑𝖋 𝕻𝖔𝖕𝖚𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 [4,000,000] 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖘: 𝕬𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖊.

𝕬𝖝𝖊𝖆𝖚𝖘, 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖑 𝕻𝖔𝖕𝖚𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 [1,200,000] 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖘: 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕬𝖇𝖞𝖘𝖘.

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 𝖚𝖓𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖚𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖓𝖊𝖈𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖆𝖗𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖋𝖎𝖈𝖊.

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. 

𝕱𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕬𝖇𝖞𝖘𝖘 𝖛𝖎𝖘𝖎𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝖔𝖓 𝕬𝖊𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖓𝖔 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖊 – 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖋𝖚𝖑 𝕽𝖚𝖎𝖓𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕾𝖞𝖗𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖆 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖉, 𝖆𝖘 𝖈𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖙𝖔𝖉𝖆𝖞 𝖆𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖞 𝖎𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖊𝖉. 𝕺𝖚𝖗 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖊, 𝖎𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕬𝖇𝖞𝖘𝖘 𝖘𝖚𝖈𝖈𝖊𝖊𝖉𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆 𝖛𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖑. 𝕴𝖙𝖘 𝖘𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖍 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖊𝖝𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖜𝖍𝖞 𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖘 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖘𝖔 𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖑𝖞.

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.