Odyssey Of Survival-Chapter 151 - The Revelation I

The deeper Nate ventured into the tunnels, the stronger the sense of familiarity grew within him. It wasn't just the structure of the passageways, nor the way the air felt thick with an old, lingering energy—it was something deeper, something ingrained in his very being. As if, somehow, in a way that defied logic, he had been here before.

Every step forward sent echoes down the tunnel, swallowed by the darkness ahead. The Niyx embedded in the walls gleamed whenever the dim light from his hand reflected off their sharp, glassy surfaces, casting fractured glows across the stone, making the tunnel appear alive, shifting, moving. His pace slowed slightly as he studied the way the light interacted with the mineral, but no matter how much he observed, the feeling of unease never left him.

How long had he been walking? Minutes? Hours? The tunnel seemed endless, stretching beyond reason, beyond time. He had nearly convinced himself that there was no end—just an eternal path leading nowhere—when suddenly, something shifted in the distance.

A faint outline took shape.

A structure.

The moment he saw it, his instincts sharpened, his pulse steady but alert. He already knew there was no one here—no signs of life, no movement, no sounds beyond the occasional crackle of his flame—so he allowed the fire in his hand to burn brighter, illuminating the space before him.

What he saw was… inconvenient.

A sacrificial altar.

The structure stood at the very end of the tunnel, carved from ancient stone, its surface layered with dried, dark stains. Blood. Nate's sharp eyes scanned the area, noting how the floor was drenched in it—thick, overlapping pools that had long since dried, staining the ground permanently. He didn't know whether the blood belonged to humans or beasts, but the sheer quantity suggested that whatever had taken place here was more than a mere ritual.

It was a slaughterhouse.

His fingers curled slightly as he approached, his gaze drifting across the altar itself. Surrounded by unlit candles, sitting at the very center, was an old book with an impossibly thick cover, its edges worn with age, as if it had been handled over centuries.

Curiosity flared in his chest.

Nate stepped forward, his fingers brushing over the book's rough surface before he slowly pried it open. Dust scattered from its pages as he flipped to the first one, his eyes scanning the contents—and what he saw there made him pause.

The first page was an illustration.

It depicted simple animals, creatures that roamed the earth in their natural forms—lions, deer, birds, wolves. But then, something changed. A shift. The sky in the image turned green, an unnatural hue that bled down toward the ground, infecting everything it touched. The next illustration showed those same animals, but no longer in their original state.

They had transformed.

Their bodies twisted into monstrous versions of themselves, their eyes glowing with something inhuman. Their fangs elongated, their limbs distorted, and their size had multiplied, turning them into grotesque creatures of destruction.

The beasts.

Nate turned to the next page.

The second illustration sent a slow chill down his spine.

The beasts roamed the earth, but not aimlessly. They tore through everything. Cities crumbled beneath their wrath, forests burned, rivers ran red. Humans fought, but their weapons did nothing. The creatures ripped through their defenses as if they were nothing but fragile paper. Civilization collapsed under the weight of their rampage, and all that remained was ruin.

The book was documenting the present.

But the book looked old, how did whoever wrote it know of the event now?

Nate's fingers tightened as he flipped to the third page.

His breath hitched.

Words.

Not just drawings, but text.

What was strange—what was impossible—was that the words were written in a language that should have been foreign to him. And yet… he understood them. As if they had been carved into his very mind, waiting to be recognized.

At the top of the page, a single word stood out.

"Solution."

Nate's gaze trailed downward, following the details of what was written. His fingers traced the ink as his mind absorbed the meaning behind the symbols. Beneath the text was another drawing—a depiction of this very place.

The altar.

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The tunnel.

It was almost as if the book itself was telling him that this location, this exact spot, was the key to something.

His eyes narrowed.

Was this why all the kings were gathered here this was the book that led them here?

Slowly, he turned to the third page.

And that was when he finally understood.

Everything.

The final illustration showed beasts—just like the ones in the cages above—being dragged onto the altar. They were being sacrificed, their throats slit open, their blood pooling onto the stone, seeping into the cracks. But that wasn't all.

Around them, arranged in a precise pattern, were crystals.

Beast crystals.

Nate's pulse quickened.

The blood. The beasts. The crystals. The kings.

This was why they had been gathering beasts. This was why the king had been so obsessed with beast crystals. Because, according to this book, in order to open a portal—

They needed both.

His flame flickered against the stone, reflecting against the empty sockets of the altar where the crystals should have been placed. As if waiting. As if expecting to be filled.

Everything made sense now.

His lips parted slightly, and before he could stop himself, he muttered under his breath:

"All this… just to open a portal."

The words felt heavy in the air, vanishing into the silence of the underground chamber.

The moment Nate flipped to the fourth page, an icy sensation spread through his chest, sending a sharp, unnatural chill down his spine.

His eyes locked onto the new illustration.

And then he saw it.

The process wasn't complete. The blood of beasts alone wasn't enough. The final requirement—the last piece needed to open the portal—was a human sacrifice.

His jaw clenched as he read further, his eyes scanning every detail, every twisted instruction that had been written down. The blood had to come from a specific lineage, an ancient civilization long forgotten by time. The script mentioned a name—Dilmun, an ancient land that once existed near the Persian Gulf. It was said to be a place of purity, a land of divine favor, untouched by corruption. And for whatever reason, the ritual required the blood of a female from that civilization.

Not just any female.

A virgin.

Nate's grip on the book tightened slightly as his thoughts spun in different directions.

He exhaled slowly.

His mind went straight to Tiaa.

She had been talking about the prisoner locked in the cage since the moment they began this journey. Over and over again, she had mentioned the girl, asked questions about her, fixated on her fate as if something about her situation truly unsettled her. At first, Nate had dismissed it. He had assumed that the prisoner was just another criminal, someone who had broken the king's laws and was now being punished. He had told Tiaa to stay out of it, to avoid interfering, to not let her emotions get in the way of things she didn't understand.

But now…

Now he wasn't so sure.

Was the prisoner in the cage truly a criminal?

Or was she just an unlucky soul, a girl captured because she carried the rare blood needed for the ritual?

His thoughts darkened.

He knew the answer.

The book had confirmed it.

The kings didn't just capture her on a whim—they needed her. She wasn't just some random prisoner. She was an offering.

Nate exhaled, shaking his head slightly as he flipped to the next page.

It wouldn't open.

His brow furrowed.

He tried again, pressing his fingers against the edge, but it was as if the page was fused to the book itself, as if whatever lay beyond wasn't meant to be seen. A moment of frustration passed through him, but before he could attempt anything else—

Footsteps.

Faint at first. Then growing louder.

Someone was coming.

His entire body reacted instantly, instincts sharpened, movements calculated. He didn't hesitate—he let the fire in his hand die out completely, snuffing the last traces of light before it could betray his presence. Darkness swallowed the chamber once again, thick and suffocating. But by then, Nate was already moving.

Super speed.

The world around him froze.

The silence became absolute. Every sound—the approaching footsteps, the shifting of air—slowed to a crawl, as if time itself had been stripped of momentum. Even the dust in the air seemed to hang suspended, weightless.

As Nate moved through the tunnel, he passed by the ones approaching.

Three men.

They were dressed in robes different from those of the ordinary kings. Their garments were heavier, layered in intricate patterns, and even in the dim lighting of the tunnel, Nate could see the wealth displayed in their clothing—the gold, the embroidery, the unmistakable symbols of power.

These weren't just any men.

They were kings.

And not just any kings. Important ones.

Nate's gaze flickered between their faces as he slowed just enough to study them. Their expressions were neutral, but he could tell from the way they walked—controlled, deliberate, silent—that they weren't here for anything casual. They were heading straight for the altar, straight for the book.

Did they come here every night?

Did they know the power of what they were doing?

He could kill them all right now.

The thought crossed his mind as he moved past them, so close that he could've reached out and snapped their necks before they even had the chance to process what was happening. They wouldn't even feel pain. Wouldn't even know they had died.

But he let them live.

As he passed, one of the kings shifted slightly, his body barely moving in the slowed-down world.

Then Nate was gone.

The world resumed.

The kings continued walking as if nothing had happened. To them, nothing had changed. Nothing felt off.

Except—

One of them suddenly paused mid-step, frowning slightly.

"…Is there meant to be a breeze down here?"

The other king glanced at him. "I don't know," he muttered. "Inexplicable things happen here."

Neither of them looked back.

They continued forward, disappearing into the depths of the tunnel.

Meanwhile, Nate had already reached his tent.

It had taken him less than a second to get there.

Without hesitation, he opened the flap, careful to make no noise as he stepped inside. The moment he entered, the world outside seemed to vanish, the tent enclosing him in an eerie, unnatural silence.

He stood there for a moment, expression unreadable.

The book. The portal. The ritual. The sacrifice.

Tiaa's prisoner.

Everything was coming together.

And Nate knew, without a doubt—

Tomorrow, everything would change.