The Seeker | Volume 2

The blonde-haired young man sat on his throne, his crimson eyes laced with a blatant sense of boredom he knew all too well. The days seemed to pass like months that he sat on his throne, walked around the castle, or straight up slept for hours. Though his duties as an emperor seemed to emit a sense of radiance, the overall constant murky atmosphere of the Katshin Empire only made his sense of dread and longing for battle grow more and more inside him.

Suddenly, the quitter-patter of footsteps rang behind him, causing him to turn around and see who it was. It was Izuku's daughter; Hazel, who had brown hair with green at its roots, a genetic combination spiraling from her mother; Ochako.

The teenage girl's brows were furrowed in concern as she eyed the emperor with a strange sense of concern that he could read quickly. 

"My dad's acting crazy again." her voice was low as if he could hear her whispers. Katsuki's eyes widened as he immediately left the room and walked down a hallway, before approaching a cold, metal door at the end of the hallway and opening it.

He proceeded down the stairs and was greeted with another long, dark hallway. The hallway was made of old, worn stone and had dimly lit candles on either side as a way of seeing down it. Katsuki huffed as he approached another door at the end of the hallway, behind the door he could sense something cold, something dark, and something upmost terrifying. 

Inside the rather large room sat a figure on their knees, their green hair a mess and their green eyes being abnormally crazy, not even a tiny trace of rationality dwelling within them. He opened the door, Hazel standing behind the door and watching Katsuki proceed towards the figure with a sense of dread that never left her chest.

Izuku's body was a mess, his body was left skinny and frail, his eyes were sunken and his voice was hoarse. If it wasn't for their previous battles, Katsuki would have enjoyed his condition, but this time the young man's crimson eyes were filled with a deep sense of despair. 

"Izuku...you bastard," Katsuki whispered, leaning down and looking the other boy in the eyes. Izuku let out a low roar, thrashing violently against his restraints which were lodged into the walls, runes, and symbols surrounding the runes as an extra measure of protection.

"She's gone, it's your fault you bastard," Katsuki growled. But behind his voice was also that same sense of pity and fear as his eyes. Seeing his friend in such a condition, corrupted by an entity that even he was unaware of, and one he couldn't defeat even at the level of a demi-god. 

About 6 months ago Izuku's wife; Ochako, perished due to an illness. This caused Izuku to go mad and wage war with the angels and gods. But this didn't end well, as he had his characteristics and properties ripped from him, leaving him as a being of no power. Katsuki had locked him up to ensure that he wouldn't escape, that he wouldn't cause any harm, and that he wouldn't lose himself any more than he already did.

Even if he'd seen Izuku like this countless times, it always brought tears to his eyes seeing him in this condition. He'd always seen him as a rival, a champion; but most importantly a friend. There were 4 prominent angel families that lived in the Katshin Empire that aided in his sealment, but they didn't need to interfere anymore unless he broke out, so they installed the angelic bonds that hold him to this day.

"Hazel told me you're acting mad again..." Katsuki's voice was calmer now, and it sounded like he was holding back a flurry of tears that threatened to give way even upon the slightest bit of stimulation. Izuku growled again; he hadn't said a word to sense his corruption; something that brought even more anguish to Katsuki's heart.

Katsuki suddenly took out something from his pocket; a piece of rye bread. It wasn't much, but he didn't want the castle chefs making the best meals only for the half-mad man to destroy it all. He slid the bread over to him, and Izuku pressed his head against the floor and ate it roughly like a rabid dog.

"Eat up." He said, his voice slightly bitter as a weird sense of assurance to himself. Katsuki had always felt like his anger was the only dominant trait in his body, but seeing his friend like this opened an entire floodgate of emotions, ones he didn't even know he had. 

After leaving the cell and going back upstairs he didn't go back to his throne, instead to his private quarters. In his room, which was heavily decorated with armor, skulls and trophies of his previous victories, he knelt down and closed his eyes, allowing the ambient silence of his room to envelop him.

...

Due to my fever-like symptoms I was left bedridden against my will, forced to dwell with my own thoughts and possibly project my spirituality to the afterlife.

It was a skill that The Umbridge taught me, rendering me able to project my spirituality without leaving my actual body. An avatar of myself would be created and replicate my exact thoughts, actions etc; it was basically another me.

I was nose deep into some research regarding the previous epoch, a gift from Cattleya. The current documents predated over 500 years ago, and they were written by someone whose handwriting was similar to mine; something nobody could truly discern.

The pages referred to the Church of Saints, and their creation of the Nullifying Bullets that I received in the Dark Market, and the ones that the cultists also replicated. The pages also referred to the potion ingredients for other paths.

"Why would Raymond need a slate when we have everything in this book?" I thought to myself with a smile as I continued to flip through the pages.

"I've held suspicions about the Zourist Family for quite a while. A family from the north that arrived here following the apocalypse. They don't remember their own history, they don't seem to have much life to their actions, it's strange and almost eerie." An individual named Sara Gypsy.

These history books were always divided into sections corresponding to different forms of documentation. Sara Gypsy's notes were documented inside the journalized section, meaning that there were probably more sections of her diary or journal scattered somewhere.

When we first arrived in Seraphis Kingdom I saw a historical society building on Crockshaw street nearby the shooting range me and Shinso usually go to. If I could somehow divide a plan I could possibly sneak out or have someone bring the excerpts to the building for me and have them possibly dated.

Outside the sun was starting to set and it was about 6 PM. The fall weather blew gently through the open window, it was cold and bitter; a signal that it would be colder during the fall months.

My current location was our base, which was situated inside Aaron's house, and was heavily in the slums of the area, most likely a diversion from the enforcers and possibly criminals.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and Carter, who was wearing a classic suit and tie entered the room, brushing the sweat off his brow. He was unemployed until now, and was able to get a job at the bank. The bank had a lack of ventilation overall, so it explained his current state.

"Hey, kid." He said as he walked in and sat on the bed beside me. I didn't feel any fever or anything; I didn't even feel any symptoms in general. But due to Ling and Palsy's sense of paranoia and strange sense to deeply investigate everything they see, I was forced here.

"Hey." I replied gruffly. Carter raised an eyebrow as he pulled something out of his pocket. It appeared to be a piece of paper that was folded up, covered in a tiny amount of water.

"I think you have mail." Carter said with a tiny smile as he handed me the paper. I unfolded it and began to read its contents:

"Dear Mr. Salista.

I apologize if I'm intruding on your daily life, but I request some assistance in your knowledge and expertise. I've come across a rather peculiar and gut-wrenching case. A man suddenly exploded after weeks of irrational behavior, and they were an Order 6 of the Depravity Path. I've always insinuated that the higher you climb the more of a chance you have of losing control, but I'd like to hear your thoughts and possible concerns.

Your dearest disciple; Ling Kitonow.

Was this letter from the Chinese man who assisted Palsy in the bar? And since when did Aaron hold any more disciples past Oboro? I now knew that Ling had requested Aaron to assist him with a problem regarding a person exploding, but due to Aaron's death over 3 weeks ago the older man was unable to assist him.

I looked at the letter for a few more seconds before returning my gaze to Carter, who sat at the end of the bed. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity upon seeing my reaction. I suddenly sighed and put the letter down on the nightstand, before wearily standing up; the corners of my eyes blurring from the sudden stimulation. 

"Unfortunately I don't know how I'll be able to solve the problem. But I had plans of stopping by the historical society building to get an exact date of a journal entry I spotted inside one of Cattleya's history books. I might stop by the Kitonow family's apartment complex and probe Ling there." 

"Why would you need to visit the historical society?" Carter asked me as he watched me stand up. I looked at him for a few seconds before responding. "Because there's some important historical knowledge I'll need." 

Deep down I didn't feel like telling him about the whole incident with Kaden Zourist in the mental protection, but I could see that he did spot the horns on my head and was obviously curious about them. I ruffled up my hair before putting on a rain-jacket and headed out the door. 

The streets were quiet and empty at this state of night, with the bright white moon hanging overhead, barely obscured by the thin layer of clouds overhead me. The street lights slowly burnt to life, illuminating my path along the narrow road of Crockshaw street.

The Crockshaw Historical Society stood as a quiet building, inlaid with multiple stone columns and a tall staircase. In the midst of the more urban part of town; the historical society stood out among the populous of old, aged wooden buildings.

Through one of the tall slim windows, I saw that all the lights were on, and an elderly woman was sitting at the desk adjacent to the historical documents sourcing chamber, indicating that she probably was the person I was hoping would accommodate me. I slowly approached the door and opened it politely, before wiping the small amounts of rain that gathered onto my coat with my sleeve. 

I approached the desk, and the old woman looked at me and smiled.

"Hello, sir." She said gently as she straightened her back and locked eyes with me. I gave her a quick nod before pulling out the excerpt of Sara Gypsy's journal entry and setting it on the desk, pushing it a little in her direction. "I was hoping to gather more information about this. The Zourst family and all the history of them intrigues me." 

The woman's eyes widened slightly as she took the paper and began to read its contents with intrigue. After a few quiet moments she looked back up at me with a curious expression. "It appears that the date of this entry dates back to the Church of Saints, one of the older empires of the North-Western continent; the only empire known to be beyond the Cardigon Mountains before being destroyed from infighting." 

She suddenly stood up and approached the chamber, before taking out a key and twisting it into the lock, opening the large bronze door. Inside the room were numerous shelves filled with rows of scrolls, books, and old, worn books. I had to plug my nose briefly due to the amount of dust that leaked out, causing a small layer of the particles to accumulate onto the cold tiled floor of the building. 

After her wrinkly hands scanned the shelves; murmuring indistinctly, she pulled down a worn book with a few pages falling out onto the ground. She bent down and picked them up before putting them back into the book and gently handing it to me.

When I read the title my eyes widened. It was Sara Gypsy's entire diary, and the page listed within the history book was removed, meaning that whoever published it had the book previously, and ripped out the page. But...why?