Chapter 552: Memories (3) (1/2)

Once again, the scene began to fade as the vision was completed. Following the second large dream-like vision, the system began to process the absorbed creature's memories at a higher speed, absolving it into Aiden's mind at high speeds.

Images flicked in front of Aiden's mind one after another. Scenes of how the father, the ex-archbishop Zark, and the small girl, Tolliah escaped from the calamity that had befallen them.

He saw snippets of the past, gradually understanding more and more of how this world, separate from the ground above, worked. How the little girl wasn't a normal girl, but one with special, powerful blood flowing in her veins. Her fate was incredibly dark, twisted, and cruel. She was to be offered both flesh and soul to the Ancient One as a sort of offering to ensure the continued survival of their people.

How the High Priest excommunicated both, but strangely, did not order for any capture. In fact, it seemed that the altercations were either silently forgiven, or perhaps someone or something intervened…

In reality, though they were forced out of their old homes, they weren't actively hunted. They were even allowed to wander the city, Ugburg's streets without too much of a worry. Still, just to be on the safe side, Tolliah was forbidden from wandering outside of the base premises and had to stay within close vicinity of the central cave they made, as that was the only one that had several sealing mechanisms built into it in case of an emergency.

Zark didn't know what caused the sudden shift in the High Priest's tone. After all, his daughter was marked as the sacrificial mate to be presented to the Ancient One, the one that would be then granted the 'gift' to carry the next High Priest within her once she came to age.

Yet, no matter how much he tried, there was no information about the matter. In fact, the Temple Guards were actively working to get the matter completely forgotten from the minds of the citizenry. Wanted signs were taken down, all related material confiscated and the rabble-rousers taken into custody.

Still, despite their efforts, such important matters as a rebellion couldn't be completely rooted no matter how hard they would try. People still remembered, whispers still carried the words, stories slowly turning to myths and legends. Reality twisting, contorting into that of the obscure fantasies of the many after each passing.

Yet, it wasn't all bad. The pressure caused several new members to be forced out of their homes and eventually find their way into one of the agents set up by Zark and be taken into their folds, slowly growing, gaining power.

Months passed in this strange, heavy, tense atmosphere where the smallest of sparks could have lit the fuse for the powder keg and kickstart an explosive, brutal war between the two factions.

Still, neither side wanted to end up in that state. Besides the fact that over time they were both roughly at the same size and the victor wouldn't be clear from the start, it would also leave their city in a severely weakened state allowing the other nations to take on the opportunity and attack them.

Yet, that still wasn't the worst, and it would probably only make them delay their plans a bit and find other opportunities to take on the other side of this debate. The fall of their city would also shift the power balance between the four great tribes of the Underworld. With the fall of the Draconic Skinks, the four great would be three, with one of them stronger than the other two.

The millennial-old standoff, the equilibrium would be broken to pieces, most likely causing all the big and even the smaller tribes residing below the scorched surface would go into an all-out campaign, resulting in the loss of thousands, if not millions in the process.

Even if the stories of the Bareskins that once lived atop the surface and were the masters of the land were shared and still told between the members of the tribes, all their pent-up and swallowed emotions would come out in an explosive manner. Greed, Wrath, Vengeance, Lust… Whatever they tried to keep down, would no longer be kept in the dark.

This notion was understood both by the High Priest and the Archbishop as well. They both knew that if they were to go all out and fight, it would ultimately be the catalyst that would mark the end of times.

Unless the Ancient One were to decide to leave its chamber and directly intervene, the world would be thrown in chaos once again. Still, they both knew that would never happen. The Ancient One, the last remaining Guardian of this world would never leave his chamber at the center of the world. Not just he didn't want to anymore, as the wounds of the Great Cataclysm could not heal in the span of a few dozen thousand years. It would need millions and millions of years…