Chapter 1: My Dear Diary

Vatican Church Library year XXXX

For Edmund Brennen, senior clergyman, the day passed as usual.Wake up in the morning prayer and then time to work from morning to night. Every day except Sunday. Sunday is a holy day.

To most, the job of a librarian would seem tedious and repetitive, but Edmund was not one of them.

He was able to focus on monotonous work and divert his mind from other things that were bothering him. He also loved the smell of paper, it stimulated him like morning coffee, and it gave the impression that the monotonous work becomes livelier and more pleasant. And although he did not have to perform such basic activities as dusting or segregating new books on the shelves as younger, inexperienced employees are in the habit, he continued to do so, he felt that this was his vocation and this is what he was born for.

His meticulousness and dedication, as well as impeccable years of service, led him to be promoted to head of the Forbidden Books Department in the last year. For although his department was small and had very few employees, it was very important, after all, there were the most valuable and dangerous books. His promotion meant that he was now almost at the top of the church hierarchy above the majority and below a few important personalities such as the Chief Librarian and, of course, the Pope.

Anyone who knows him knows that Edmund Brennen is tough and pious, demanding but also merciful to his employees and cares for them as if he were his children. It always broke his heart when they left or changed jobs. Then he felt like a father sending his children who started to live on their own. He became a model for young librarians and chroniclers as well as their mentor and spiritual guide to whom they could turn for help or be tormented by some mental dilemmas. He was always the first to arrive at work and the last to stay.

What most don't know is that Brennen has a secret, a very dark secret that will end badly for Edmund and anyone else he may have been friends with or who knew him better. The Church in such cases is merciless and removes even people who were not affected. After all, where did the witch hunt come from, then a shadow of suspicion was enough not to mention those turbulent times.

Those who could see through his mask and began to suspect something, disappeared in unexplained circumstances, under various pretexts, some leave themselves, others are fired for strange mistakes or moved to other places, and still, others simply melt into the air without leaving a word. What they have in common is that no one has seen them again, and I think we know who's responsible.

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(Edmund Pov)

The day passed as usual without any accidents or complications, but it remains to be seen because the day has not passed yet and many emergencies can still happen. Constant vigilance.

After locking the front door and sending the last student from the library, Edmund slowly began to return to his office upstairs, for him it was time for some real fun.

I am nominally the head of the forbidden books department but I am not allowed to read them who invented it - Edmund complained in his mind like every day

I don't know what else I need to do to legally use them. I only open them when I need to categorize them or acknowledge receipt, and even then the damn inquisitor sits over me. Soullessly staring at my back.

The smarter ones don't even show up testing me at every opportunity and just stare with their dead eyes hidden somewhere in the corners of the room under some incantation or spell that makes them invisible looking for the slightest mistake on my part , they think they're smart but they don't know whose sometimes I feel their breath on my neck and get shivers from their stares.

Worse when no one is there and there is no sign of life that someone is in this room,  I start to panic and get paranoid. This means either there is no one there or I am not skilled enough to detect them. Unfortunately, I do what I do, and He who doesn’t take risks never drinks champagne. or it will end up with another dead body mine or his.

Of course, there are also such books, even I can't use them, these are hidden and dangerous for anyone who reads them, and so they say. What does it mean for me Great Necromancer, after all, a few deaths do not prove anything. Such books are the rarest and most interesting.

I always wonder what the inquisition would think if it turns out that a necromancer takes a place in their ranks in the heart of the church and in a place to which even theoretically he should not approach, for many years he had access to their most valuable things. I don't know what would be worse for them, that they didn't detect me for so many years or that I hold such a high position. Oh, heads would roll.

And so I know that although the Inquisition publicly announces the danger of these books, but secretly uses them for themselves , I have personally seen so many examples. How famous is the church's hypocrisy? Not that I'm complaining, I had a part in it too.

Upon reaching his office, Brennen began going through his notes on what had happened today as he usually does.

Today was an exception, a reminder not to open and read under any circumstances - the highest possible classification. Normally, I shouldn't even know that such a book exists, but I think something has  something started to change, increase their confidence in me, that's good unless it's some other kind of sick test. My appearances work, not that they even fail.

Edmund scanned the room for any indication of the presence of the uninvited guest, casting spells from weakest to strongest by detecting heat, ending up disintegrating dust where the inquisitor might be, only stopping when he ran out of mana.

Strange - Edmund grumbled

Heedless of the possibility of a spy and knowing that further effort is pointlessly continued.

He put on gloves so as not to accidentally leave evidence that was easy to find. He took out a hidden book from a secret drawer that he has in his bookcase in the corner of the room, gently took it out, unpacked it ,and put it on the desk.

He settled back in his armchair and began to look at the book,  looked normal with a black cover ,and inside the pages were probably made of paper, nothing extraordinary, or at least nothing that he was usually used to.

Maybe it was an illusion, he thought, but after a few minutes he ruled out that possibility.

Ignoring her danger, he continued.

He looked at the name My Dear Diary.

Strange but also ordinary he said looks like an ordinary diary.

He stared at it for a while, noticing any further irregularities or deviations, and came to several conclusions. Either its content is inconsistent with the values ​​professed by the church and its author has been deemed a heretic or its content has been deemed highly undesirable by propaganda. None of these options were valuable to him but some part of his mind was bothering him, they wouldn't give such a degree of secrecy to an ordinary book, there must be something to it.

And instead of putting it down as he had originally intended to, he decided to give it a chance.

Turning over the cover, he began to read.

...

My Dear Diary 

Today was a great day but which isn't great

I met some old friends and as usual I was chased by cute dogs as I passed by my neighbor's garden.

Nothing extraordinary, but as one of my oldest friends says "every day is great when the lord's system is in control of us" it reminds me of the first day of how it all began. Unforgettable first time and a memorable event I will remember  forever.

And it started very simply, I remember it like it was yesterday.

 

A man wakes up in the morning and sees a blue screen in front of him

[Congratulations, you have been chosen, may the fun continue and live as long as possible, good luck]

Not only do they wake you up at 3 am, but someone else dares to display this thing in front of MY eyes, a blue screen with black text. Of course, like any real man, without thinking for a moment, I hit it with all my might, I wasn't scared at all.

Probably it was predictable but the hand went through the screen so willy-nilly that all my strength was redirected into my beloved lamp that stood on the bedside table.

Bang

The lamp was to be replaced and I cut myself on it.

A few minutes after dressing my wounds and regaining my composure, I realized what had happened, I knew that I was the chosen one and my destiny was to be a hero, after all, I was chosen by the system and that certainly means something.

Well, I found out a few moments later on the Internet that no, everyone was chosen from a newborn to a dying old man without exceptions. and everyone on this planet has been chosen, everyone has been the hero of the novel or at least had the opportunity to do so. And the worrying thing that can happen is that human greed always wins out, and something bad will happen.

As a lover of internet novels, I knew what was coming - rebellions, people going out into the streets, the collapse of the state, the end of the current known world in short - the Apocalypse. Usually, other things are going on apart from the system being down so I waited for some sign maybe a zombie apocalypse is coming, another message, another reality attack, demon invasion, but nothing happened. The system was silent.

Wasting no more time, I got dressed and ran quickly out of the apartment in search of the nearest store to buy some food, hoping that the clerk of the 24-hour store would be stupid enough to believe that nothing would change, and if not possible, steal anything that might be valuable. Who cares about the law when the social system is collapsing. For now, the first option is not worth being the first to lean out.

As an adult men, my stats were above average, then they were between F- and F+ (I knew that gym and martial arts training would come in handy someday) I was armed with a kitchen knife and a souvenir pocket knife my father gave me as a child and I always carried it in my back pocket out of habit. For now, it should be enough to defend yourself, bearing in mind that there is always an escape option.

The only thing that could stop me was the army, police and other armed groups of people who had the same idea as me, and of course firearms. As I didn't live in America or any other country where firearms are readily available, I didn't have to worry about the latter unless I ran into a street gang, things like that shouldn't happen in my neighborhood. If I wasn't unlucky I should be fine.

I ran to the nearest neighborhood store forgetting that today the shops are closed and as soon as I considered the possibility of burglary I noticed that unfortunately I wasn't the first to think about it, the door was open someone was already inside and someone beat me.

Even better for me, I'd probably just break the window and set off the alarm if there is one, I doubt it.

I know the owner didn't even install a camera but who knows maybe something has changed. I quietly walked inside without making any sound and when my eyes got used to the darkness inside the room, I saw a girl who looked about 20-25 years old, maybe a little more, only remember that she had long black hair. As the light was not on (she must have just arrived or didn't want to signal to others that she was inside) fortunately for me and unfortunately for her, she didn't notice me.

I started thinking about what to do with it.

If she knew I was here, I probably wouldn't have attacked her, everyone would have taken half of the stuff and we would have gone our separate ways and never met again if she was smart enough. But since she doesn't know about me, I take everything for MYSELF, all I have to do is get rid of her before someone new comes. At that time, I didn't even know that I could even think about it or that I had this murderous urge.

The knife could use a clean one to keep up the appearance of sweat, it wasn't sharp enough either, so I put it in my pocket and took out my beloved penknife. I approached her step by step, step by step and by chance when I was next to her at arm's length I accidentally kicked a store shelf, which made her suddenly turn around ,and look at me with her eyes but it was too late for her

I had no mercy at that moment.

A moment before my attack, she panicked and tried to attack me back with something sharp, luckily I managed to grab her hand (which was lucky on my part, you could barely see anything) I don't know how, but it was pure coincidence, while with the other hand I stuck my penknife deep into the aorta until only the handle was left, then I quickly took it out, she began to bleed out.

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As she fell to the floor, I looked deep into her eyes and saw the life drain from them. It was beautiful, I felt like I had an orgasm. For that brief moment, just a few seconds before her death, I think I fell in love with her, or maybe at the moment she was dying.

That's how I fell in love with a girl whom I saw for the first time and only moments ago I mercilessly murdered, or at least until she fell dead. Love at first sight or maybe at the first death.

Something has changed in me, I wanted more such moments of ecstasy.

I don't know if I went crazy at that moment or moments later, I looked at her lifeless body and felt thirsty,I want to try her blood.  Thirsty, so thirsty with every moment more and more.

I licked the penknife and her blood was strangely addictively sweet. I wanted more, madly I approached her corpse and began to drink from the spring I drank and drank until the blood stopped flowing, there was not a drop in it. I hate to admit it, but then I even started licking the floor clean until there was nothing left.

When there was no more blood to drink, I suddenly cooled down, took everything I could ,and ran without looking back, never coming back to this place, at least not anytime soon.

I got home and as I sat on my bed I started thinking about what happened, something was wrong I changed. Did I start to panic ,no I wasn't I was excited that I got rid of the old me and now I am a better and more powerful version of myself.

Then I was ashamed of myself not for the murder but for my inattentiveness as I drank blood I was completely unaware of my surroundings so Sensitive just like that girl.

In the end, I began to worry about the consequences. Do I have to run away? How fast will they find me? What evidence have I left? I asked myself a lot of questions and got a little paranoid. I turned on the television for quick relaxation, in the meantime, I was starting to pack for the escape.

Like a thunderbolt on television, riots were shown, in my city just a few streets away and throughout the country, shops were attacked, people were trampled, street fights, and Molotov cocktail were thrown, this time not at the police but at other people, the worst demons came out of people. This madness didn't just affect me.

What was happening can be described in one word, a little civil war. I still had moments to stay in place and strengthen myself and now all I needed was time. Good for me.

I felt stronger, you see, I don't know if after my first murder or after drinking blood I got a new skill that made me stronger, faster ,and more durable with every drop of blood I drank. It probably had limits in the future, so all I needed was time and a lot of blood. It's time to hunt.

After a few days and the riots calmed down, it must have been after my 12th or 13th homicide, the police tracked me down and came to my apartment but it was too late. I was too strong for them and the first patrol I met slaughtered like lambs.

After that, I ran away from the apartment, taking with me only a penknife as a souvenir. It was enough, I didn't have to eat and drink anymore, blood alone was enough for me to survive.

I moved between cities and then countries, leaving only corpses behind me. I grew stronger with each death, with each person drained, but so was the chase, it grew in number ,and with each death, more and more fierce.

What happened next I think we all know, it was hard not to hear about it from funny information as I was mainly moving around Europe I found out that the Inquisition still exists along with the Templars and other long-forgotten organizations like Freemasonry.

I've met them all, the strangest being the famous masked clown most now call a prophet. To this day, I still shudder at the memory of talking to him.

Somehow I survived the chase, survived all the next smaller and larger hardships, went through the sea of ​​corpses, created my clan my family ,and here I am,  at the very top of the food chain. Writing this page I am xxx years old and I stopped counting how many I killed.

The irony is that everyone who was chasing me is dead and their corpses have already turned to dust. There are only descendants of those I didn't manage to kill, they probably even forgot why they were chasing me because I commit so many crimes.

 

 

 

What did you expect me to write some juicy details like my stats and the rest of the skills I used in the journal, but no, I'm not that stupid for what everyone thinks I am.

I will assure your organization that this book is now inferred my signature skill earlier and handed you to me on a silver platter or maybe you are a lone wolf or a completely random person and you had no idea what I wrote before, in the case of the last better for you better for you. For me, there is no difference.

What am I doing, I wouldn't be myself if I didn't scare you.

So my ability is [Bloody Tide] trivial name I know but I didn't invent it, one of its features allows it to drain the vitality of others which makes me virtually immortal in and out of combat.

Another feature is that I can track every drop of my blood, and retrieve information from anything it connects to cool right?

Ah so the climax this book was written by me with my blood instead of ink the moment you touched it my blood seeped into your skin and now I know all about you I know where you are, what you look like ,and what your name is. In case you were wondering, it even goes through every protective glove ,not just a skin.

I can't wait for us to meet face to face sooner or later but we'll meet eventually no matter where or how you hide if you think I'm bluffing I'll tell you it's a very easy trick to turn blood black but about it and much more you'll learn when we get to know each other.

I can not wait for our meeting.

Ps. I love the view of the setting sun and long chases, so if you can, start running now

Pss. Ever since that night, I've had the nasty habit of playing with my food.

...

Edmund froze as he read the last line.

Well, not what I expected, he said

He began to scroll through each page one by one until he reached the end.

Each one was the same as if the author wanted to know that no matter where you open it, you will read the same thing. Everywhere was blurred the age and some other important information, whether it was done by the author himself or someone who used the book before.

So he searched his memory for strange disappearances that were not caused by him. I concluded that there were none. Someone must have read it before him and was fine, somehow the book ended up in his hands.

So the author lied, or at least I hope so.

But this could not convince such a paranoid as Edmund Brennen, he began to set both magical and traditional traps, waiting for the attacker at every moment of the day, even during sleep he did not lose his vigilance

And the days passed. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. And nothing happens.

Until one day Edmund will disappear, for the first few days they thought he was ill, only after a week when he gave no sign of life, others began to suspect something and investigate deeply, unfortunately, it was too late.

When they examined his room, there was no trace of him, Brennen had evaporated like his former students.

Funny don't you think

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To Chief Inspector Aleksander Schmidt.

I don't know why, but every person who has contact with this book you recently sent me disappears in unexplained circumstances, I have already lost 3 employees who started reading it, it is not known for what reason but none of them wanted to say anything even under the threat of death,the book is probably cursed. So far I've been able to determine that the author writes one copy a year, each one looks different  some look like old telephone books, others look like modern spellbooks and others are made of human skin resembling a Necronomicon. Its content is also different each time, but I'm not brave or stupid enough to try it out.

Their probable number is between 100 and 150 and the chance of finding a new one is very small. We know about the protection of 56 by the church, according to our information, the Reich has between 10 and 15, the Order of Knights admitted to possessing 20 pieces ,and the last authority in old Europe, i.e. the Defenders of the Mountains, has 5 copies under its care, but voluntarily gave 17 pieces to the main alliance headquarters  personally don't them and I believe they have a few more copies hidden for some reason.

I believe the remaining copies are in private hands, most likely in the hands of the blood church followers a well-known terrorist organization, but you probably already know that.

Due to the possible dangers and costs of the sea and air travel after the continental breakup between the Member States, it is recommended to stop actively searching for dangerous books - they are harmless until they are opened.

A prudent approach would be to address a new threat, namely , the Second Systemic Response commonly referred to as the Second Awakening , and all its possible aftermath.

Signed by

Inspector William Taylor

May 2, 2100

 

Ps. I hope you'll say a kind word to our mutual boss the great "White Prophet" mankind's last hope.

Pss. May you be well my friend in these difficult times, waiting for your reply as soon as possible, as usual  ,fucking time zones

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