History is written in ink. Destiny is etched in blood. But in Velvora… the syntax is older than both.
The chamber beneath the Phantom Cathedral wasn't built.It grew.
The architecture defied logic—spiraled, bone-like columns sprouted from obsidian veins in the ground, reaching up like calcified roots grasping toward forgotten gods. Limestone ribs curled through iron supports, forming a grotesque skeleton of a cathedral that had never been meant for worship.
Within its marrow, symbols pulsed.
Glyphs—neither entirely arcane nor digital—glimmered like bio-luminescent runes carved into the very concept of reality. They coiled along the walls, crawled across the air, embedded into the light and dust as if they were not merely written, but grown.
Asher stood in stunned silence at the edge of the threshold. His breath fogged the air—though the chamber had no true cold, no movement of air, no wind.
It was still.
Unnervingly still.
Behind him, Rosa's footsteps clicked once… then halted. Even her presence—usually fierce and grounded—felt small here. Quieted by awe or dread.
Lucien broke the silence first, kneeling down to examine a spiraling sigil glowing in shifting hues of blue and gold.
"These aren't languages," he murmured. "They're instructions."
Rosa frowned, hand resting on her blade. "Instructions for what?"
"No idea. But they're alive."
The glyphs responded to his voice—subtly at first. One near the ceiling blinked. Another twisted just slightly, like a pupil contracting. Not outwardly hostile. But aware.
Drawn by something he couldn't name, Asher stepped forward. His boots clicked onto a circular platform engraved with an ouroboros-shaped glyph—its tail not merely in its mouth, but pierced through its own eye, curling inward in a way that felt paradoxical.
His hand rose without thought.
Don't touch it.
But the voice of caution came too late.
His fingers brushed the center of the glyph.
And then—
Flash.
The chamber exploded into light.
But not light from a source. It came from within.
The world peeled away like burning parchment.
------------------------------
Elsewhere. Yet Still Here.
Asher stood in a city made of ash and glass.
The skyline was almost familiar—Velvora, or what Velvora once was. Primitive towers built from sand-colored stone. No neon. No wires. Just bone and steel and star-metal. Black suns swam in a copper sky.
War screamed through the streets.
Masked figures clashed with horned beasts. Creatures made of flesh and fire. Others were ethereal—winged beings with circuitry woven into their skin, fighting like broken angels.
Above it all, the glyphs floated.
They spiraled and reshaped mid-air, reacting to battle strategies, rerouting the flow of the fight like ancient processors still running divine code.
And in the center…
A cloaked figure.
At first, Asher thought it was himself. The same build. The same gaze.
But this man was older, wrapped in armor woven with red and gold glyphs. His face bore the same sharp angles, the same intensity—but his eyes held wisdom—and guilt.
Asher staggered. Blood thundered behind his eyes.
Who is he?
An ancestor?
A reflection?
A warning?
Memories not his own poured into him like boiling mercury. Images. Sounds. Screams.
—A broken celestial contract.—A city built to imprison something beneath the earth.—A rebellion led not to save the world, but to end a cycle written in god-script.
And a name whispered over and over again: Velvora.
Not the city.
The curse.
---------------------------------
Back in the Chamber
Asher hit the floor.
Lucien caught him just before his skull smacked the glyph-etched stone. The impact knocked static through the air—dust fluttering upward like memories trying to escape the ground.
"Asher!" Lucien shook him. "What the hell just happened to you?!"
Asher's skin glowed faintly with the same hue as the glyphs. His veins shimmered like golden thread beneath translucent flesh. His pupils flickered like broken data feeds.
Rosa dropped beside them, already pulling her analyzer from her coat. The device was ancient—gifted from her secretive Order during her field initiation. Outdated now, but capable of reading deep-etched memory architecture.
Glyphs reacted to it instantly—some dimming, others reorienting toward her device.
Rosa's breath caught.
"This isn't just tech," she muttered. "Or magic. It's… genetic code. Built into the city."
"What?" Lucien blinked.
"Encoded into the architecture. Into the bloodlines. Whoever designed this chamber didn't want to store history. They wanted to pass it on."
Lucien's jaw clenched. "So… the city is alive?"
"No," Asher croaked as he sat up slowly, every muscle aching. "It's inherited."
He pressed his hand to his chest, feeling the echoes of that other man—that other self—still shivering behind his sternum.
"And the curse doesn't just run through the walls of Velvora…"
His eyes glowed.
"…It runs through me."
-------------------------
Elsewhere — High Sector of Velvora
Silence reigned inside the crystalline conference hall overlooking the glowing skyline.
The meeting of the Pillar Families had ended moments ago—but no one had spoken since.
Across ancient relics sealed in reinforced glass, the glyphs had begun to move.
A noblewoman stood before a mirror, wine glass in hand, swirling a deep red vintage older than the current government. Her violet eyes never blinked as she watched the runes dance across the artifacts.
"The syntax has returned," she whispered.
Behind her, a succubus chained to the wall flinched violently.
The noblewoman smiled.
[End Of Chapter 106]
--------------------------
Next Chapter Preview: Chapter 107 – "Inheritance Tax"The deeper Asher digs into the city's DNA, the more he realizes he's not the only heir of Velvora's sins. A meeting with a forbidden bloodline may unravel the difference between cursed fate and chosen rebellion. But not all legacies want to be remembered… and some will kill to stay buried.