Return of the Legendary Runesmith-Chapter 203 - 202- Horro

Warning: This Chapter might make you feel uncomfortable since this would show how people used to live when they lost their morals and sanity. So please beware and be prepared for anything.

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"Alright then, system," Adrian said as he sat in his office. "...Give me my reward."

He had already mastered the fourth thread.

After tuning it twice for Elana, he had gone back to the Time Chamber and tried tuning it again—this time, for the training doll. And guess what? It worked perfectly every time. It was deeply satisfying.

What a huge change.

Just as the system had said, all he really needed was some confidence. And with Elana’s help, he finally gained it—the belief that he could handle the fourth thread.

Now that he had recognized his own skill, he was ready to claim his reward.

[Reminder: The hint may be vague and only loosely related to the host’s origin. Don’t overthink it.]

Adrian let out a dry smile. "Why are you trying so hard to keep me away from my origin?"

[The system believes the host should stay focused on the present and prepare for the future.]

Adrian sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Well, to prepare for that future, I need to plan. And to plan properly... I need to understand where these strange powers even came from."

Right now, he still had no idea how he’d gotten these abilities—or whether they were even safe.

What if using them meant falling under the influence of the Fallen God?

Wouldn’t that mean he was already screwed?

The system said nothing more on the matter and simply notified him,

[The reward has been delivered to the Time Chamber.]

Adrian gave a small hum before stepping into the room.

His vision shifted—and in the blink of an eye, he was standing in his second home.

Lying on the ground before him was an old-looking book.

It had no cover, no title.

Adrian took a deep breath, slipped on his glasses, and sat down.

This was going to be difficult.

But he couldn’t wait too long either.

He opened the book, and a line greeted him on the first page:

[The record of witch hunting that goes back a thousand years in date]

His brows furrowed at the title.

It was handwritten—but definitely not by Avirin.

The pages were thin, aged, and barely holding together.

Adrian paused for a moment.

Record of witch hunting?

He’d heard the term before, but it was always vague—something people spoke of like an old tale.

No one had ever found solid proof that witches once lived alongside humans.

But then again, rumors don’t just come out of nowhere.

He continued to read.

{Entry#1:

We are at the peak of war.

Darkness has swallowed half the world.

It crept into people’s minds, twisting their thoughts, making them believe that the unthinkable was holy.

Brothers are hacking each other to death with rusted blades, screaming prayers as blood covers their hands.

Mothers are sinking their teeth into their own children, whispering that it’s the only way to save them.

The streets are slick with blood.

Bodies lie piled in corners—some torn apart, others still twitching.

Laughter echoes through the smoke, not from joy, but from those who’ve lost their minds.

Humanity is eating itself alive.

The skies are red.

The world is burning.

And no one is left to scream.}

Adrian frowned reading those words as he found a mark of what once was blood at the corner of the page.

This side of war was never recorded, and definitely not published for people to read.

Adrian calmly turned the page and continued to read,

{Entry#2:

I lost something.

Today, I found my father and my sister in the same bed.

They weren’t sleeping.

They were touching—moving—like strangers driven by something filthy and wrong.

Their clothes were scattered on the floor.

They didn’t even flinch when I opened the door. Just stared at me with empty eyes, like I was the strange one.

Their minds were already gone.

Whatever made them family had rotted away.

Around me, people live like animals now. There’s no shame, no rules—only hunger and madness.

Cannibalism isn’t feared anymore. It’s practiced. Like breathing.

Like eating.

It’s how people survive.

I think I’m still holding on.

But for how long... I don’t know.

The world is sick.

And I can feel it crawling into me too.}

{Entry#3:

It isn’t stopping.

I saw a man today skin his own son.

Not in rage. Not in madness.

But with focus—calm and careful, like he was peeling fruit.

He whispered to the boy, calling him sweet names as he worked the knife under the skin. The boy didn’t scream.

He was already dead.

A group watched in silence. One of them was chewing on something. I didn’t ask what.

No one cries anymore.

Tears are for people who still believe there’s hope.

I passed a woman who had nailed herself to a wooden board and was begging others to eat her, saying her body would cleanse their sins. They didn’t hesitate. She smiled while they fed.

I keep walking.

I keep pretending I’m not one of them.

But every night the hunger grows louder. The noise in my head—it scratches, it begs.

I still have food left.

But when I saw a dying man crawling through the dirt today, I didn’t think about helping him.

I thought about how easy it would be to snap his neck.

And how long he’d last if I salted the meat.

God help me.

If he’s still watching.}

{Entry#11

There was a wedding today.

Not between lovers.

But between a man and a corpse.

They dressed her up in torn lace, smeared her with old perfume, and tied her to a chair. He read vows to her bones and kissed her rotting mouth while others clapped and laughed like it was some grand celebration.

Afterward, they dragged the body to the altar and took turns with it.

I didn’t watch the whole thing.

I couldn’t.

But I heard the sounds.

There are no rules anymore. No age limits. No consent. No shame. People trade children for meat. They cut off their own limbs for attention. Some burn themselves alive for entertainment.

Are we close to our doom?}

Adrian’s finger trembled as he flipped the page and continued to read the horror the writer of this diary had felt.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine what the people of that time must have gone through.

People who had forgotten their moral values. Those who are doing everything to survive, even if it leads them to their own destruction.

Family relations were all damned before the evil that forced them into insanity.

"Fuck...I was not ready for this..." After reading the thirty-seventh entry, Adrian rested the book aside and rubbed his eyes.

However, as much as he wanted to stop reading, he knew that there was something in there which could tell him about his origin.

As such, he continued.

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A/N:- Thanks for reading..

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