A frown creased Arthur's brow as his thumb tapped against the page's corner.

Steel towers? According to Panterra's records, there were only stone fortresses and wooden houses, not towering structures made of steel that rivaled mountains.

He turned to the next page.

"They built machines that drank from oceans, swallowing salt and water alike to feed empires with rivers of abundance."

His lips pressed together tightly. Machines that could purify oceans? Panterra had only developed crude desalination methods, and even those were so costly and crude that during that time only rich nobles, kings, and queens could afford to eat salt!

These accounts spoke of entire empires thriving on such technology thousands of years ago.

Arthur paused; disbelief flickered across his expression. He was really shocked.

Leaning closer now, he flipped through pages more rapidly, each paragraph gnawing at everything he thought he knew about this world's history.

Records detailed roads made from "black stone smooth as glass" stretching across horizons.

Accounts spoke of "chariots without horses," racing faster than wind itself. There were even records about "flames captured in glass," illuminating cities in perpetual daylight!

His hand stilled on one particular passage as he absorbed its weighty implications:

"The knowledge was not ours but came from another shore unseen by Panterra's people. He brought it with him and reshaped an empire."

Arthur felt a tightening in his throat; his gaze flickered toward Evolon, who projected translations without comment, its void-blue eyes unblinking yet somehow understanding.

He muttered softly, "Another shore… unseen by Panterra's people?"

The phrase echoed in his mind, echoing against the cold, unyielding walls of the vault.

Arthur's fingers curled into a fist on the pedestal as he flipped to another page, determination etched across his face.

The patterns began to emerge more clearly now, nestled between mundane accounts of wars and harvests.

Each subtle line whispered the same unsettling truth: Vaerion VII had introduced ideas, technologies, and concepts that seemed utterly impossible—ideas with no roots in Panterra itself.

For just a fleeting moment, Arthur's usually stoic expression cracked. It was barely noticeable, a tightening of his lips and a slight furrowing of his brows, but it was there.

He murmured under his breath, voice low and gravelly: "So… you weren't from this world either."

The pages seemed to echo this revelation repeatedly. Timelines that didn't align. Descriptions of inventions far too advanced for their time.

And always those subtle hints suggesting that this knowledge had origins beyond Panterra.

His breathing quickened as he felt the weight of discovery settle heavily on him. Arthur swiftly masked his turmoil behind a calm facade, but inside, chaos reigned.

If Vaerion VII hailed from another realm, another dimension, or another world, then perhaps he wasn't alone after all.

With a trembling hand pressed firmly against the Codex's leather cover for grounding, Arthur's gaze fixated on one passage.

"He was not born of Panterra, but he made Panterra his own. And for that, his legacy lies buried where no eye shall see."

Arthur's heart skipped a beat as a ridiculous thought appeared in his mind: Was Vaerion VII like me?

The vault was eerily silent as Arthur stood there frozen in place; Evolon's void blue eyes were still on him, unblinking.

Arthur took in sharp breaths to calm down his beating heart.

The vault was thick with silence, a heavy blanket that pressed down on Arthur.

He continued to press the pages; his fingers moved steadily, but beneath his calm exterior, his pulse raced like a wild river.

Nearby, Evolon hovered, its projection unwavering, capturing every word as translations flickered to life across the ancient parchment.

As he delved deeper into the text, the passages grew increasingly cryptic. Yet within those riddles lay meanings that coiled tightly around his chest like a serpent ready to strike.

"There were gates to other worlds, unseen by the eyes of Panterra's children. Through them passed kings and beggars alike, their souls carried across realms as if by unseen rivers."

Arthur's lips parted slightly; his breath slowed as he reread those lines, hoping for clarity where there seemed only confusion.

Gates? Realms? Souls crossing boundaries? His jaw clenched in disbelief.

He turned another page, another passage full of something impossibly profound.

"The crown is not merely a symbol but a key. Dominion is not won by blood alone but by unlocking realms that lie beside our own."

His fingers froze mid-turn. A sudden clarity pierced through his thoughts like lightning: the crown, resting just a few feet away in the vault.

A slow exhale escaped him as disbelief was etched on his face.

The words were more than metaphor; they resonated too closely with his own reality, gates between worlds and souls transported across them… all leading back to that crown.

His chest tightened as he formed a thought he had tried desperately to avoid: Vaerion knew. He might have understood the very mechanism that brought him here and perhaps even manipulated it.

Arthur shut his eyes for what felt like an eternity, trying to calm the tempest brewing inside him.

His breath came shallow and quick; though he maintained an outward calm, the weight of revelation pressed so heavily upon him it was almost suffocating.

"This…" he muttered under his breath, voice low and cracking slightly, "…this can't be mere coincidence."

His words dissipated into the stillness of the vault yet echoed loudly in his mind like an ominous bell tolling its warning.

The parallels were undeniable: his arrival in this world, the hidden knowledge embedded within the Codex, and the crown gleaming just out of reach, all waiting for him to uncover their secrets.

Arthur's grip tightened around the edges of the book until his knuckles turned white.

Breathing deeply became painful; each inhale felt like lifting weights far beyond what he could bear.

"This Codex… who on earth were you, Vaerion?"

Arthur just slammed the Codex shut, the sound reverberating violently through the steel chamber.

The information was too much, and he hasn't even gone through one-third of the Codex, and the information he has found has made him numb with shock.

Arthur bowed his head over the ancient tome, strands of hair falling into his face as he muttered again—this time softer, each word laced with disbelief.

"Who on earth were you… Vaerion?"

Suddenly...

A sharp distortion sliced through the silence.

[Warning...st...atic...interference...]

The system's voice, typically cold and authoritative, fractured into a cacophony of static.

The words twisted and bent, their meanings lost in a jumbled mess.

Arthur froze, his eyes widening in alarm. Evolon's projection flickered erratically beside him; lines of light shivered as though something unseen was clawing at its core.

The air thickened with an unsettling hum, resonating like the vault itself was alive.

[...Warning. Unauthorized...access...detected.]

Beneath his hands, the Codex pulsed faintly; its ancient leather cover throbbed as if something dormant within had been stirred awake.

Arthur's heart lurched. For the first time in ages, a genuine sense of unease coiled tightly at the edge of his mind.

The static deepened further, drowning out any coherent message until only broken sounds remained:Guttural and distorted whispers echoed ominously:

[...be...careful... It is watching...

Then came an eerie silence.

The vault fell still. Evolon's projection steadied once more, yet its void-blue eyes glowed brighter than ever before, fixated intently on the Codex.

Arthur remained motionless, hands pressed firmly against the closed book while his pulse hammered quietly in his ears.

Whatever knowledge he had uncovered or whatever force had been awakened...it transcended mere information; it was a dire warning.

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