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Heir of the White Lotus (Web Novel) - Chapter 1993: Final Message

Chapter 1993: Final Message

This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl

"There is something wrong! Very wrong!"

"The kingdom that once loved General Jacob now loathes him. Instead, they have begun loving the greedy King Louis."

"How?"

"I cannot understand it."

"Louis is a powerful Magus, but I suspect he must have had help. I am not sure."

"Jacob marches with his new army. Louis marches with his army as well."

"The two great armies have finally collided!"

"I have received news from the frontlines that Jacob is losing. The army he had trained for Louis is too powerful."

"Louis grows more power-hungry with each passing day."

"Hundreds of thousands of soldiers are fighting beyond the walls!"

"All for what?"

"The entire thing was based on a lie!"

"Jacob and his army are losing. I do not know what the future has in store for us."

"Dear God, please guide me..."

Several pages had been torn from the journal. The entries that followed were missing.

Adam’s expression grew solemn as he read the last entry.

Hundreds of thousands of warriors are fighting beyond the walls.

That line immediately caught his attention.

"Hundreds of thousands of soldiers," he murmured thoughtfully.

"That reminds me of the Lands of Always War."

The scale of the battle described in the journal was far beyond an ordinary conflict. Hundreds of thousands of warriors fighting...

It was difficult not to think of that strange land.

But there was another detail that bothered him even more.

Louis had help.

"But from whom?" Adam murmured.

Louis had undoubtedly been a powerful Magus, but the High Priest himself had suspected that someone had assisted him.

Adam frowned. Unfortunately, the journal provided no answer. And with several pages missing, there was no way for him to know what had happened afterward.

There were still a few more pages left in the journal. But the writings within them were nearly impossible to make out. The handwriting had become increasingly erratic, the once-neat letters twisting into uneven scratches across the pages.

Some words were written so deeply that the quill had nearly torn through the parchment. It was as though the person writing them had been standing on the very edge of sanity.

Many entries were cut off completely. Others consisted of fragments of thoughts, repeated phrases, and words that seemed to have been written in the middle of panic.

Adam carefully pieced together what little he could read.

"The battle has taken an unexpected turn."

"We all thought Jacob would lose. But he has returned. Stronger. Much stronger."

"Death follows him everywhere. Wherever he goes, people die. I have seen things I cannot explain. Things that should not exist."

"Evil powers are at play!"

"The land is cursed! We are all cursed!"

"The Sun God has abandoned us!"

"Why has He abandoned us? We have prayed. We have offered blood. We have burned incense until the temple was filled with smoke."

"We have called upon Him every day."

"But there is no answer. Only silence."

"Perhaps... more blood is needed? More sacrifices?"

"No! What am I thinking?! This is unlike me!"

"Shireen and I have fought monsters that came out of nowhere."

"They were not beasts. They were not men. I do not know what they were. They crawled out of the darkness, and kept coming."

"Some had faces. Some did not."

"I saw one wearing the face of a man I knew. He had been dead for three days. It spoke to me. It knew my name. I could still hear his voice long after we killed it."

"We are all doomed!"

"The Sun God has abandoned us."

"Shireen says the Moon Goddess burns red from anger."

"She says the moon watches us every night. I have begun to believe her. Every night, the moon looks redder. Every night, I feel something looking back."

"Both of us are cursed."

"I can feel it spreading through my body. White fur. Antlers. I... am scared."

"Sometimes my hands do not feel like my own. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and find myself kneeling before the Lord’s statue. I do not remember walking there."

"Shireen has begun hearing voices. She says spiders call her name."

"I told her not to listen. But I hear voices too. Of wolves."

There was a large smear of ink across the next several lines. Beneath it, the handwriting became even more frantic.

"I realized that those monsters did not crawl out of the darkness."

"They are us. The people of Valcourrone and Edevane."

"Shireen and I are slowly turning..."

"Before we completely turn like the rest, we have come up with one last counterattack."

"It will not save us. We know that. Perhaps it will not even save our children."

"But it may help those who come after us."

"The Lamiyan Talismans!"

"The Sun!"

"The Moon!"

"The 108!"

"They are all connected!"

"I finally understand. Or perhaps... I only think I understand."

"No. No. There is no time to doubt."

"Jacob must be defeated."

"He must be stopped before it is too late."

"If he wins..."

The sentence ended there.

Several lines had been scratched out so violently that the parchment had been torn.

The next surviving words were barely legible.

"If Jacob wins, then we... the people of both kingdoms... we can never pass on to the afterlife!"

"Our souls will remain here. Trapped forever."

"Remember!"

"The 108!"

"The 108!"

"Do not forget the 108!"

"If anyone finds this..."

"Remember the talismans!"

"Remember the Sun!"

"Remember the Moon!"

The handwriting suddenly became enormous, the letters almost carved into the page.

"THE 108!"

"THE 108!"

Then beneath it, in smaller and increasingly uneven writing:

"Praise the Sun..."

"Praise the Sun..."

"The Sun must rise again."

"It must."

"Please..."

"Please let the Sun rise again."

"Praise... the... Sun."

The final words were almost impossible to decipher. The ink had been smeared across the page, as though the journal had been dropped or the writer’s hand had violently trembled while writing.

Only a few words remained clear.

They were the High Priest’s final message.

"The... basement..."

"Remember... the... symbolism..."

"The... 108."

"Find... the... Morning Star."

Tucked into the last page was a worn portrait of an elderly man in clerical robes, smiling warmly. Around him stood several little children, their faces beaming like the sun.

Adam looked at the portrait with sad eyes.

"The Antlered High Priest and his Stone Angels..."

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