’It hurts...’
A lonely, incoherent voice called out to the void.
’Why does it hurt so much?’ As the echo materialized in the form of a low, desperate grunt, a barely conscious man realized the answer.
’It’s because... I am dying.’
As he opened his eyes, his dim blue irises oozing with pain, he took a close look at his mangled state. His body had already been ripped to shreds, with his neck barely attached to his upper torso through strands of flesh and bones.
Blood vessels and wriggling layers of flesh formed strings that held them together, but it was clear that this couldn’t last very long.
"Ahh..." Much to his surprise, he could still let out a sound from his charred lips despite the poor state of his body.
White hair, now drenched in blood, dropped from his barely hanging head as he tried to sit upright. His eyes had long turned bloodshot as he examined everything around him. From the puddle beneath his moving corpse, he could see his reflection.
A distorted wrinkled face, one that would have undoubtedly been handsome in its youth, stared back at him.
This moment of silence had him thinking, ’Why am I still alive?’
That initial wave of attacks had decimated everyone around. Yet, for some reason, he managed to survive, albeit barely.
Before he could think of a response, however—
WHOOOSH!!!
The blurry gaze of this half-dead man caught an absurd scene playing out a great distance from where he quietly sat.
A wild torrent stained the dark crimson sky, parting the drifting purple clouds in an unstoppable frenzy. This storm seemed to be made up of creamy white fragments, each one violently squirming amidst the company of its fellows.
One close look would reveal the true nature of these things.
Maggots.
Fat and squishy maggots huddled together, each secreting juicy mucus while madly steering themselves higher into the blotted sky.
Each maggot had translucent mosquito wings and tail-like appendages that looked like they belonged on a scorpion. Protruding slightly from the hole at the tip of their head were human-like faces, each having long hair and contorted expressions.
The ugly faces warped as they screamed, revealing rows of sharp, decaying teeth that spread all over the bodies of the terrible, disgusting, creamy worms.
The crimson sky turned even brighter, as though welcoming the horde.
But... a pitch-black curtain suddenly descended to blanket its blood-red color.
The thick layers of darkness instantly shrouded everything bright, causing ’nightfall’ to descend upon the world. Chilly winds blew, causing a frosty atmosphere to ensue within the once chaotic battlefield that had long grown silent.
Other than the sea of undeterred maggots and a few humanoid outlines that floated in the sky, nothing else moved in the vast scene that played out.
The veil seemed absolute, completely encasing the world in an impervious layer of darkness.
However, this did not stop the swarm.
This bizarre tempest composed of whiteness pierced the darkness, causing the veil that shrouded the true sky to tremble. It began to display signs of breaking down, almost like the firmament above would shatter into pieces.
"No..." The man who was lying powerlessly on the ground, feebly shuddered while staring at this scene.
He knew what would happen if those things crossed the final barrier.
That Historical Projection was conjured through the sacrifices of many. It was the last effort to contain the final vestiges of this Nameless Apocalypse from destroying humanity.
Whether this was done by traversing the Core Fable to reach the Celestial Library or by directly descending upon the world, the conclusion was the same. If it were allowed to successfully pass through the darkness, it would mark the end of the current age.
No... Perhaps even all of mankind.
"... Please... stop... it..."
This man, Lazarus, could do nothing but silently pray as he watched.
Surrounding him were the corpses of his colleagues and friends. Even some of his superiors had fallen only a short distance away from where he currently lay, paralyzed.
This Expedition had yielded far too many casualties.
But this was expected.
As a Historian, it was his duty to fight back against the corruption that stemmed from the Unknown.
Combating the madness and keeping back the terrors that lurked within the Historical Void, all to ensure the future of humanity.
Yes...
He was a Historian, one who had lived for hundreds of years.
After a grueling effort, he had managed to strengthen his Anchor by raising his Integration above 80 Percent. The strengthening of his connection to the Celestial Library had caused him to finally experience a qualitative change.
He actually reached the famed Legendary Rank!
However, that was simply the bare minimum required to challenge the Apocalypse that had infected this Core Fable. In this Expedition, there had been over a hundred Legendary Historians just like him, each using their most effective Historical Projections, all to no avail.
The Mythic Historians, leaders of this Expedition, were the only ones who were still remaining, and they had managed to whittle down the power of the Apocalypse to this extent.
All that was left were the final vestiges.
’Do they still... have enough strength...?’ Lazarus thought quietly, noticing how heavy his eyelids had become as his gaze became even more blurry.
It became clear at this point that he was soon going to meet his end.
That wasn’t such a scary thing.
Not to a Historian like him, who had lived for so long and had experienced all manner of horrors that transcended what mere ’death’ could reveal.
What frightened him above all else was the Unknown that lurked beyond his comprehension, as well as the undetermined outcome of the current battle.
Even though he fought to remain awake, his heart clinging to an unreasonable hope that somehow the Mythic Historians could reveal one final Historical Projection to vanquish the threat, Lazarus found himself slipping further into the abyss.
Until finally...
... He died.
Darkness covered his entire sight.
For a moment, there was absolute silence.
Then... light!