Missing Translator

"You should tell me the real name of Case No. 0-87, don't you think?" Riley asked. 

The room fell into deep silence. The tension in the air was thick. Riley's eyes darted between the bishop and the imam, searching for some sliver of reassurance, but finding only an impenetrable cloud of mystery and dread.

"There's something fishy, isn't it?" Riley's voice was tinged with anxiety.

"It's called the Veritas" The imam finally spoke. 

The bishop sighed deeply, his expression a mixture of profound sorrow. "A few months ago, after many centuries of work, The Veritas was translated again," the bishop began. 

Riley leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "What does it say?"

The imam's face was pallid, as if the very mention of Veritas chilled him to the bone. "No one knows," he answered, his voice barely a whisper. "Everyone who worked on the translation and those who subsequently read it... is now dead."

Riley's eyes widened. "Dead? By their own hand?" The imam added gravely. "In every case. It's a pattern that defies all reason."

Riley observed the religious leaders for a while. His was pretty sure of it, the religious leaders were still hiding something. Riley was a living proof that someone out there might have also survived due to some strange power influence.

In Riley's case. The Nexus Trial had influenced his suicide attempt. Riley pressed further, his skepticism evident. "All bodies recovered?" 

"Except one," the imam admitted, "but we naturally assumed—"

"Assumed nothing," Riley interrupted sharply. "Assumption makes an asshole of you. And one of your cardinal translators was missing." 

The bishop's gaze hardened, but there was a trace of regret in his eyes. "Ryan, those translators were devout... believers. They took their own lives in the knowledge that suicide is a mortal sin. Yet they read the Veritas and chose hell."

Riley shook his head, trying to digest the information. "What kind of document could drive people to such extremes?"

The bishop took a deep breath, his eyes distant as if recalling a haunting memory. "Let me tell you a tale, one that may illuminate the nature of this document, though it may not provide the answers you seek."

The room was bathed in the dim glow of the solitary lamp, casting long shadows across the walls. Riley settled back in his chair. 

"Long ago," the bishop began, "in a time when the world was young and shrouded in greater mysteries than it is today, there was a small, secluded monastery hidden deep in the mountains of what is now Northern Ravenheart. The monastery was known as the Sanctum of the Veil. Its monks were renowned for their profound wisdom and their commitment to uncovering truths that lay beyond the reach of ordinary men."

Riley listened intently as the bishop continued. "Among these monks was a scholar named Absalom. He was a man of extraordinary intellect and an insatiable curiosity.

It was said that Absalom could read ancient texts and understand languages that had long been forgotten. One day, while perusing an old, dusty scroll in the monastery's library, he stumbled upon a manuscript unlike any other. It was a text so old and enigmatic that it defied all attempts at translation."

"The manuscript," the bishop said, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper, "contained cryptic symbols and writings that piques the curiosity of whoever glanced at it.

Absalom dedicated himself to deciphering it. He spent years working on the manuscript, and during this time, he became increasingly isolated from the other monks. His obsession with the text grew, and he would often talk of visions and revelations that disturbed even the most steadfast believers among them."

Riley's frown deepened. "And what happened to Absalom?"

The bishop's eyes darkened. "As he neared the end of his work, Absalom began to speak of a profound truth he had uncovered, a truth so great that it defied the very fabric of reality.

His claim was that the manuscript contained a secret knowledge that was beyond human comprehension, a revelation so powerful that it could unravel the mind of any who sought to grasp it. He'd said it was a document written by the gods. "

"Then," the bishop continued, "one night, Absalom disappeared. His belongings were left behind, but he was never found. The other monks, frightened by his disappearance and the rumors that had begun to circulate, buried the manuscript and sealed the library, vowing never to speak of it again."

The room was silent as the bishop paused, his gaze distant. "The manuscript was eventually lost to time, but its legend persisted. Scholars and theologians throughout history spoke of it in hushed tones, and its name became synonymous with forbidden knowledge and madness."

Riley's face was a mixture of disbelief and fascination. "So, what does this have to do with Veritas?"

The bishop nodded slowly. "In recent years, a copy of that manuscript resurfaced. It was found in an obscure archive, and after much effort, it was translated. Veritas is believed to be the culmination of that manuscript's secrets. The document is said to contain the essence of Absalom's revelations—truths that challenge the very foundations of our understanding."

The imam spoke up, his voice trembling. "Those who translated it reported a growing sense of dread, a compulsion to uncover more despite the risks they start to doubt themselves and question reality until they were forced to commit suicide. The manuscript's true nature began to seep into their minds, and the knowledge it contained drove them to despair.

It's like they saw things, experienced sensations that defied explanation—hallucinations, voices, visions that compelled them to end their lives."

Riley's expression was one of horror and disbelief. "So, the document... it's cursed?"

The bishop's eyes were somber. "In a way, yes. The curse is not in the document itself but in the knowledge it contains. It's a burden that no human mind is meant to bear. The revelations are so profound, so alien to our understanding, that they destroy those who attempt to grasp them."

"But why," Riley asked, "would anyone be driven to suicide by knowledge alone?"

The bishop looked at Riley with a sad smile. "Knowledge of this nature is not just information. It's a revelation of the universe's deepest, darkest truths—truths that challenge the very fabric of reality and human existence. 

To know too much is to bear the weight of truths better left unknown; in the shadows of enlightenment, ignorance can be a mercy."

Riley was silent, grappling with the enormity of the bishop's words. The tale was unsettling, and the implications were chilling. "And you believe that this is why the translators of the Veritas ended their lives?"

The bishop nodded solemnly. "I do. They were faced with a reality beyond their capacity to comprehend, and their minds could not withstand the revelation."

The bishop's eyes were grave as he spoke. "You are the only one who survived the suicide attempt after reading the Veritas. We believe the knowledge resides within you. Maybe hidden itself deep inside you."

Riley's heart raced as he absorbed the bishop's words. A slight shiver went down his spine. He glanced down at his hands, suddenly feeling disconnected from his own body, but the cold metal of the revolver biting into huis skin said otherwise.

The eerie silence of the room seemed to amplify the thoughts racing through his mind. He replayed the events in his head: the dark fog of despair that had overtaken the real Ryan, the chilling isolation as he decided to end his own life. 

The implication was horrifying. Riley was not entirely sure if the man who had survived was truly himself or merely a remnant of who he had been before.

The soul of the original translator, Ryan, had been displaced, and Riley's own existence now seemed like a fragile illusion, a replacement held together by the Nexus Trial

He looked back up at the bishop and imam, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. They believed the knowledge within the VERITAS resides in him.

Riley's mind was a battlefield, struggling to reconcile the part of him that had endured with the unsettling truth that he might be living on borrowed time. As the bishop's words echoed in his ears, Riley could not shake the chilling thought that the Nexus Trial had not only shielded him from the darkness but had also wanted him to solve whatever the Veritas was.

His survival felt like an enigma, a fragile thread of existence precariously balanced on the edge of an abyss. And his Doom attributes would make things harder for him.

In the silence that followed, Riley's resolve hardened. He had to read what Veritas tells. The truth about Veritas, and the mystery behind it might be his first Nexus Trial.

However, a thought crossed his mind. He wasn't the first to have survived the curse of the Veritas; one of the translators had probably survived it's horror—he wasn't found dead anyway—and his body was not recovered. He had also gone missing—just like the monk, Absalom.

There was only one question. Why did they commit suicide? Did the book kill them? Or is there a strange force acting, killing those involved with the book?

Either way, Riley was pretty sure that the Nexus Trial wanted him to solve the Veritas mystery. It doesn't matter how he solved it. Right at that moment Riley decided he'd have to gamble. 

"Bring the Veritas... I will read it again"