On the outskirts of the Great Forest of Tob stood a massive fortification known simply as the "Great Enclosure." Two pairs of enormous curtain walls were linked at each corner by four imposing towers bustling with the sounds of countless soldiers. If observed from afar, one might mistake the looming walls in the distance as the periphery of a castle or fortress of some sort. However, anyone who stood atop those walls could see that the only thing lying at the center of the massive fortified rectangle was but a tiny cemetery.

Kurast Vizier sighed as he stared down from the ramparts of the Great Enclosure, his breath condensing under the cool night air. The faint moonlight briefly illuminated his features, revealing the fatigued expression of a jaded soldier.

"We're wasting our time here, Erabir."

The man standing besides Kurast gave a meaningful smile as he heard the words coming from his comrade. Erabir Aeferen had secretly been aware of Kurast's inner turmoil for some time now, but it was different hearing his friend speak them aloud.

He replied in a casual tone, not immediately addressing Kurast's statement. "The general public believes that this is the most secure place in the world, but you and I both know that that is a farce."

Kurast groaned. Erabir loved to drag conversations out like this whenever anything controversial was brought up.

Erabir ignored Kurast's sound of protest as he calmly continued: "The Great Enclosure as they call it would crumble within a matter of seconds if it were ever truly needed as a line of defense. No, the real "most secure place in the world" refers to that central mausoleum over there in the middle of that fancy little cemetery."

Kurast rolled his eyes. "That's quite the exaggeration. More than half the members of the Holocaust Scripture, us included, are stationed here. I'm confident that if anything comes out of that Tomb, we will at the very least be able to hold them off until reinforcements arrive."

"Which brings me to my point." Kurast continued. "The Great Tomb has not shown any signs of stirring for an entire century. You'll go on and on about history, but what about the present? The Holocaust Scripture is needed more than ever around the world. We cannot afford to sit idly here to watch over a mound in the ground!"

It was Erabir's time to sigh. "This is what happens when you skimp on your history lessons. I suppose I can't blame you, most of the world has already forgotten..."

Kurast directed a fierce gaze towards his friend. "You'll go on and on about history, but what about the present? The Calamity Twins are still nowhere to be found, and the Elf King's children insist on defending their father's two killers to their deaths. The dwarves have resurrected their lost ways and are now expanding into the Azerlisia Mountains with the Frost Dragons at their beck and call. The Beastmen hordes of the East march on towards the Dragon Capital while the Dragon Queen cowers on her throne, defenseless without the protection of the Sorcerer Kingdom."

"And what do we do? Sit here and twiddle our thumbs looking over this-"

"Enough, Kurast." interrupted Erabir in an exasperated tone. "Everything you just listed is covered by the other Scriptures. Might I remind you, our primary duty is to defend the home soil of the Slane Theocracy. There is no greater threat than what lies beneath that Tomb."

Kurast tutted. "All of that is just baseless conjecture. No one has ever even gone inside; the Supreme Chancellor has forbidden it. Surprisingly, nothing has ever come out of there either."

Erabir chuckled. "And why do you think she forbade entry to the Tomb? The Supreme Chancellor, who can lay waste to entire armies and almost single handedly drove away the Goblin Queen? The blood of the Gods flows in her veins, yet even she is terrified of what lies beneath that wretched place."

Kurast shook his head. "We'll just have to agree to disagree on that, I suppose. Speaking of the Supreme Chancellor, have you heard the recent rumors?"

"Recent?" snorted Erabir. "You mean the ones about her being a half-elf? What ridiculous blasphemy. She doesn't even have the ears."

"That's easily covered with illusion magic. What she can't hide is the heterochromia. The only other individuals with that condition throughout the past few generations are the Calamity Twins and the Elf King. All elves of great power. You can't say it isn't worth thinking about."

He took a deep breath before continuing: "Nobody would have paid attention to these rumors a few decades ago, when everyone needed her power to rebuild the Theocracy. But now that our stability has returned, people are starting to wonder…."

Erabir looked at his friend in alarm. "Careful now…the Supreme Chancellor's authority is not to be trifled with. The very ground you stand on would still be under the control of the Goblin Army if not for her Holiness."

Kurast waved his hand dismissively as he responded. "Yeah, I know, I know. Anyway, It's getting late, I think I'll head back down. I'll leave you here to brood like you always do."

Shaking his head at the stubbornness of his friend, the 4th Seat of the Holocaust Scripture left in the direction of the nearest tower.

Erabir watched him go, his eyes following the back of his friend's figure as it made its way quickly to the wooden door of the tower at the far end of the rampart. As Kurast disappeared into the Enclosure, he stared back out towards the direction of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

He heaved a heavy sigh as he gazed at the distant outline of the five mausoleums surrounded by a cluster of statues.

In truth, he himself had been struggling with the same dilemma as Kurast.

The logical part of Erabir's mind knew that the Great Enclosure was ultimately a waste of time. The duty that had seemed glorious decades ago now proved to be a pointless effort, as no sound or movement ever came from the Tomb-not once since the Great Vanquishing. At times the entire complex-with its thousands of soldiers and half of the Holoccaust Scripture-felt like nothing more than a symbolic gesture.

However, an instinctual part of him continued to believe in his work. Somewhere in his heart and mind, he retained the belief that guarding the Tomb was a sacred duty that must be upheld at all costs.

And so every day and night, he would stand watch vigilantly over the Tomb, staring at the lifeless edifice that had lain dormant for a hundred years.

Nothing ever seemed to stir within those walls, and no disturbances were ever detected. But sometimes...Erabir would have the tiniest feeling that someone or something was staring back….

Seated upon a peculiar throne of obsidian and silver, Zesshi Zetsumei's heterochromic eyes glinted with the uncanny duality of black and white as they scanned the contents of the report in her hands.

"These rumors are the work of the Cult, I take it? To think that they've successfully infiltrated into the Theocracy….."

Zesshi Zetsumei spoke in a soft tone, but the white-robed figure besides her grimaced as he heard the barely concealed hint of steel in the Supreme Chancellor's voice.

Zesshi slid a glance at the tall, slender man standing next to her.

Hathor Oribos Carim was the current Pontifex Maximus, a man she had come to rely on as her most trusted subordinate. Despite his hawkish features and the perpetual scowl on his face, he carried out his duties with utmost loyalty, an obligation drilled into him by his deceased mentor-the former Cardinal of Earth Raymond Zard Lauransan.

"I would advise against jumping to a conclusion like that so quickly." the Pontifex urged in the cold drawl that was his natural tone of voice. "The bulk of the Cult cowers away in the Demihuman Enclave in a perpetual clash with the Roble Holy Kingdom. They do not have the power or reach to extend their tentacles into our domain."

Zesshi narrowed her eyes as she considered the Pontifex's words. It was true that King Caspond II had officially declared war against the Cult and was in the midst of both overseeing a domestic purge and sending an expeditionary force into the Demihuman Enclave.

But the trustworthiness of that Holy King….

The Pontifex continued: "Besides, the Cardinal of Darkness reports that the main concern regarding the Cult's infiltration lies primarily in the New Re-Estize Kingdom and the Karnassus City-States. I doubt she would overlook any evidence regarding the Cult's operation within our borders."

The Supreme Chancellor shook her head firmly in disagreement as she replied: 'The rumors were leaked and disseminated within the space of a night. Such mastery over the manipulation of information...I've seen this handiwork only once before in the Baharuth Empire. This is no doubt the work of the one they call "The Archbishop."'

Hathor gazed intently at Zesshi as he responded: "Do you understand what you're implying here? The only ones who are aware of your origins besides myself are the Six Cardinals and the Black Scripture, all of whom were personally vetted and chosen by you. Are you implying that one of them is working with…"

"I'm not implying anything. Yet." snapped Zesshi. She unconsciously touched her right ear, which was still under the effects of the disguise magic weaved by the 5th seat of the Black Scripture, the "Illusionist" Valyn Vitrex.

Zesshi despised her elven heritage, and especially those damned elven ears. Even when she was still the guardian of the Treasury of the Gods, she would constantly try to hide them with whatever she could. Now that she was a public figure, disguising her ears was paramount for the maintenance of her image.

The "Illusionist" had a special talent that allowed his illusion type magic to persist indefinitely until they were broken by magic. When used on Zesshi's ears, it acted as a permanent disguise for the Half-Elf Supreme Chancellor. Her Heterochromia was explained away as a physical trait borne from the Blood of the Gods, and few were willing to contest the matter throughout the past several decades as Zesshi's strength was sorely needed.

Thus, Zesshi effectively hid her status as a half-elf from the people of the Slane Theocracy. The Cardinals and the Black Scripture were aware of what she was, but no one beyond that had any idea that the leader of the human supremacist nation was only partially human.

But whispers about her true origins always existed, even long before the recent wave of rumors. In the past, they mostly kept at the fringes of conspiracy, far from the attention of the public. But now, an invisible hand managed to guide one of Zesshi's greatest insecurities into the light.

A faint aura of bloodlust emanated from the former Extra Seat of the Black Scripture. Despite the Pontifex's protests, Zesshi's gut instincts told her that her conclusion was correct.

A challenge from the shadows…..

The Pontifex gave an exasperated sigh as he recognised the foreboding look on Zesshi's face. He knew then that she had already made up her mind, and no amount of persuasion would change her intended course of action.

"What do you intend to do?"

Zesshi ignored the question, a mysterious smile forming on her face as she changed the subject: "I believe you have one more report for me?"

The Pontifex stared silently at Zesshi for several seconds before giving another defeated sigh as he complied, drawing and unfurling a second piece of parchment from his belt.

"The second report is a status update from the Cardinal of Darkness regarding the Staff. She says that nothing out of the ordinary has occurred regarding the object, but Head Researcher Kareth's mental state seems to have been deteriorating as of late. She recommends having the man retire and finding a different person for the task."

Zesshi frowned as she heard the Pontifex's summary. She had spoken to Kareth only a week before, and the Head Researcher had seemed fine at the time.

"Hmm, is that so? I will visit him tomorrow and personally inquire about the matter. The Staff and the Great Tomb have both lain dormant for a hundred years. Let us pray it stays that way."

The Pontifex opened his mouth before abruptly closing it, as if having decided against a certain response. Zesshi immediately caught onto the brief motion.

"What is it, Hathor?"

"Forgive me for bringing this up again, Chancellor, but perhaps it is time to finally send a task force into the Great Tomb? All these years of inactivity must surely be proof that it is no longer an active threat? If we can find a way to fully disable or destroy the Sorcerer King's champions, we can recall both the rest of the Holocaust Scripture and the Black Scripture to aid against whatever threat may arise within the Theo-"

"The answer remains no. I believe that is all?" Zesshi interrupted in a flat tone.

Hathor bowed, understanding that this was his signal to leave. He gave a respectful nod before turning and exiting the throne room, leaving Zesshi Zetsumei alone with her thoughts.

Zesshi leaned back on her throne briefly in contemplation before standing up and making her way to the far left corner of the throne room.

She placed her left hand on the pristine marble wall while summoning the Scythe of Certain Death in her right. As the scythe appeared in her hand, she instantly took her left hand off and slashed her weapon across at the same spot her hand had previously rested.

The Scythe sank straight into the wall with no resistance, but instead of leaving a deep gash as it swung back out, the entire section of the wall vanished like smoke, revealing a hidden flight of stairs that descended into a pitch dark area.

Zesshi immediately began walking down the long flight of stairs. She effortlessly navigated the pitch darkness with her superhuman senses, making her way deeper and deeper underground.

As the half-elf walked, a flood of memories began to overtake her as the Pontifex's last suggestion continued to echo in her mind.

The first time she approached the Great Tomb of Nazarick, it was just after defeating the Goblin Queen and her hordes. She was in quite a terrible mood at the time, as the intervention of a certain individual held her off long enough for the human woman and her demihuman army to escape with the residents of Carne and E-Rantel in tow.

She had planned to take her fury out on the inhabitants of the Sorcerer King's lair, but as Zesshi approached the entrance of the Mausoleum, she felt it.

A presence deep, deep underneath her. At first, Zesshi did not quite recognise it, but it soon became clear what it was.

It was a presence she had encountered only once before, from the fourth vision that haunted her darkest dreams.

Crimson hair and porcelain skin. The mechanical, almost artificial disposition of movement. The innocent spinel gaze that bore down from a summit of corpses.

If the enraged warrior in black that had attacked her during the Great Vanquishing scared Zesshi, then this presence….

It terrified her.

And so she forbade anyone from entering the Sorcerer King's lair. Because deep down, she knew. It was an understanding borne from a primeval dread that prevailed over all logic and reasoning.

Only doom awaited any who would venture into the depths of the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

Zesshi tried her best to dispel the mass of heavy thoughts as she finally reached the end of her descent, stopping before what looked like the entrance to a small prison cell.

That day wasn't entirely a loss. The Goblin Queen fled to safety and the Tomb remained untouchable, yes, but a valuable asset was acquired in return. An individual stayed behind to secure the escape of the others….

As Zesshi Zetsumei tightened her grip on the Scythe of Certain Death, an eerie silver light emanated from the black and white blade, illuminating the darkness of the room.

Under the light of the Scythe, a tan-skinned woman in a maid uniform could be seen lying behind the silver bars of the prison cell. The woman's two long braids of red hair swished as she painfully sat herself up in reaction to the sudden brightness, a disoriented expression in her amber eyes.