Chapter 119: Temple

DISCLAIMER: This story is NOT MINE IN ANY WAY. That honor has gone to the beautiful bastard Ryuugi. This has been pulled from his Spacebattle publishment. Anyway on with the show...errr read.

Temple

In the process of putting it back together, I'd already memorized all the symbols on the pyramid, but on the way up the stairs I took the chance to get a second look at the ones I deemed most important. Though it was unlikely, there was always the chance I'd missed something in the midst of putting an entire building back together or that I'd gotten a misleading impression from what I'd felt. For something of this magnitude, it was best to be cautious and double check.

The pyramid was ornate, with the surface of each and every block carved. Here and there, chunks were missing, simply because not all of the pieces had been present, but the vast majority had been reassembled into a whole and fused back into one piece by Ereb and Crocea Mors. As it was, the designs on the stones flowed smoothly as if they'd never been broken, with the majority simply being a complex array of lines. Curves and angles crossed stones and steps alike in a complex and beautiful array centered on the temple at the pyramid's summit. Though I couldn't tell what, if any, meaning the design held, I could filter out everything else to feel the sheer magnitude of it all—and knew that if it were seen from above, it would have looked like a beautifully constructed mandala.

So beautiful that I had to wonder what it was doing on a temple with bloodstained—or, at least, once bloodstained—steps. Was it ironic that a place of so much death had been designed to be beautiful? And if so, was it intentionally ironic? Had the temple been adapted from some other purpose or was it a cultural thing?

Looking around, I couldn't be sure. Around and through the greater carvings were what I could only assume were words in languages I didn't recognize—plural. Even if I couldn't read any of them, it was easy to tell them apart because most were so vastly different. On one side of the temple were rows of hieroglyphics while another was lined in what seemed to be some kind of cuneiform. A third was covered in markings that I would have thought had been the result of brush strokes were they not set into stone, while the last of the pyramid's faces were covered in some kind of runes.

Each language occupied one and only one side of the pyramid. Given that, they might have said the same thing in four different languages, though it was impossible to say for sure as each seemed to be arranged differently. Each of the sides left the upper and bottom most layers bare, but the remainder was variable in how it was covered. From the positioning of the symbols and characters, I was pretty sure at least one of the languages was read vertically, for instance, and the hieroglyphs and runes covered very different amounts of space.

At seemingly random points, either a row or a column of blocks were left clear of any words—presumably based on which direction the language was read—and then the markings continued in the same language but…but differently. If the previous parts had been written in sentences, then those that followed were fragments at best; they might have been names or a list of things or who knows what else. Even though my vision was almost impossibly sharp, there was only so much I could discern from the words, though I could tell that they hadn't all been carved at the same time, except for certain parts like the 'sentences.' Beyond that, pretty much all my eyes did was let me clearly see that I had no idea what any of these words meant.

Even so, it was an archeologists wet dream. Someone who knew even one of these languages might be able to crack the code of the other three, given enough time. Granted, I didn't have the slightest clue what any of these languages were so it wasn't the type of possibility that helped me right this moment, but if I could figure it out and begin translating it, who knows what I might find? Even if it wasn't anything useful, merely doing so might be enough to let me develop some type of skill for languages that could assist me with Babel someday. If I could do that…

But it would have to wait. I'd memorized all the languages so it thankfully could and the libraries of Mistral might help me the rest of the way, but I had bigger things to worry about right now—namely, what was at the top of the pyramid.

Raven and I climbed the stairs in silence until we stood before the altar. It had a square roof but no walls, so each direction led to facing a different set of stairs, and furrows in the floor had ensured that blood had flowed down each. Even though time had brushed them away, they were as clear to my eyes as if they'd been freshly spilt and it was a grim reminder of the amount of death that had occurred here. And for what?

The closest thing I had to an answer was on the temple's stone roof. A spiral was set into the square, the carving detailed and intricate. At the very center was a small figure that could have been a boy or a man, laying as if on the altar. The next image showed what was presumably the same man, surrounded in an aura of power—or perhaps an Aura of power. The next showed him with a sword, standing amidst slain enemies, monstrous and human alike. The next few simply built upon that theme, with more men and stronger Grimm and different weapons, until the shape of the man began to change. In the next image, he had armor that covered the whole of his body which swords and spears seemed to break upon, and it was followed by a number of arms that each wielded a different weapon, and then strange markings that seemed to hover over fields of corpses as if he'd cursed them to death. With each image, the man's presence seemed to grow, as did the extent of his victory, until all his enemies were gone and an army cheered behind him.

Just a step behind me, I could feel Raven following my gaze and hear the muscles in her face shift as she frowned. I gave her a moment to look over the images, dropping my gaze back to the altar's surface. There were stains in it, of course, but other things, too. Sweat, perhaps, and maybe the remains of oils; signs that it had been laid upon. The sacrifices had gone here, but perhaps…

"What does it mean?" Raven asked at last.

"I can't be certain just from these images," I answered honestly, remaining focused on the altar. "However…the spiral is obviously a progression of some kind."

"Time is a river and all that rot," Raven mused, tilting her head at the image. "I figured that much out myself, but…I'm not sure I understand this progression and how it's connected."

I pursed my lips for a moment and glanced back up at the diagram before shaking my head.

"I think I do," I whispered. "I might be wrong, but I think I understand the purpose of this place. Do you see that second image?"

"Yes," She replied. "It would appear his Aura was awakened. For a moment, I thought this place might have been used as a primitive way to do such a thing, but the rest of the images tell a rather different story."

"Do they?" I asked, nodding at the first image. "Ignore the images later on and focus on the beginning. First, we have a man whose Aura is awakened. He gains martial prowess and slays his enemies, growing stronger and stronger with each image."

Raven's frown deepened for a moment before vanishing as she shrugged.

"I suppose you would know better than I," She replied. "You think this place was used to awaken Auras then?"

"No," I shook my head, confidence growing as I continued to look around. "Not just that, at least. This place was used to create Hunters."

"What?" Raven asked, blinking once. "What do you mean?"

"The images don't stop with the man awakening his Aura, do they? We see him go on to become a fierce warrior, too, winning battle after battle."

"I suppose," She acknowledged. "They trained them here, then? Or did they—"

"No," I shook my head again, looking from the image to the altar again. "I meant exactly what I said. This place was used to create Hunters. There are no images of the man training and I don't think they just left it out. No, in the first image, the man is on the altar and then he gains power and then he goes into battle, just like that. At first he was a normal man, but he gains a skill with weapons, an Aura, and more—and suddenly, he's a skilled Hunter, leaving behind piles of Grimm and men."

"But that's—" Raven paused, stopping herself for a moment. "Is that possible? To just…make a normal man into a Hunter like that?"

I was silent for a moment, mulling it over one last time before speaking.

"I want to say no, but…I can think of a way," I said at last. "Conquest…he gained the memories of those he infected, learnt from them. More than that, you've probably seen what he's done to people's bodies, mutating them into—"

I gestured at the later images.

"Extremely powerful monsters. Now imagine it," I continued. "Imagine if, all of a sudden, a warrior could be blessed with the skills of every fighter that came before him. If in a day, you could make a normal man a master of a hundred different weapons. If you could make him stronger, faster, make him heal more easily, make him brush off even horrible pain, and give him the experience of all those who came before him—and then imagine if you could do this to anyone you wanted. Or, if it helps, imagine if the Kingdom's could."

"People would kill for something like that," Raven answered in a tone just as low.

I tapped a foot on the bloodstains that trailed down every side of the pyramids like rivers.

"People did," I replied.

She fell silent for a moment after that, looking down at the stone altar. I wasn't sure of exactly what she was thinking about, but I could guess the basics—of what people would sacrifice for power.

"You think they were infected, then?" Raven asked at last, tearing her eyes away from the altar to look back up at the images again. "By this second Rider? How?"

"I don't know for sure," I admitted before gesturing around. "But there would seem to be a common denominator. The Red Rider was dormant in Ruby's blood and here we are at the scene of thousands of blood sacrifices. It seems safe to assume it's not a coincidence."

"Okay, it has something to do with the blood, then," Raven nodded as the frown on her face deepened. "Vague, yet unhelpful. A better question, then—why? Why would they infect their own people with a Grimm pathogen?"

"Perhaps they simply didn't know," I answered, nodding at the spiral above us. "By all indication, the people empowered looked normal at least at first. Conquest mutated his hosts immediately and obviously, darkening their flesh and then growing plates of armored Grimm bone—but what if the Red Rider doesn't? If there are no masks and spikes, if the person infected acts the same way as before, why would they think it had anything to do with the Grimm? Look at all the fallen Grimm in those images; the people empowered were Hunters, protectors of the people, and heroes."

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"But that's just it," She replied. "They fought the Grimm. Why would they do that if they were infected by a Rider? Did they control it, somehow? Did they manage to bind it to their will?"

I considered that for a moment, looking around with pursed lips. Truthfully, there wasn't any way to be sure when I had no idea what any of the words on the temple meant, so I had to consider the possibility, at least, but…at least from what I knew right now, that didn't add up. Because…

"In my experience, you usually don't sacrifice thousands of people to your servants," I mused. "That sounds more like an attempt to earn the favor of a god."

"It could be a ritual, perhaps," Raven suggested, gesturing at each of the temple's four sides and the stairs they led to. "All these symbols and markings could be…some kind of spell? Some way to control the Rider, maybe?"

"As far as I can tell, they just look pretty," I shook my head, though I glanced over the markings with all of my senses for the umpteenth time. As before, they seemed to be just normal stone under every form of sight I had—if there was anything special about them beyond the power I'd put into piecing them back together, I couldn't see it. "I suppose it's possible that there was something there once and the temple's destruction broke it, but if so, I cannot see any evidence of it anywhere."

"So there's no point to this temple?" Raven asked, nudging the stone altar with a toe. "All of these things are just…decorations?"

"Decorations, perhaps—but why would that make them pointless?" I questioned back, treading carefully over this particular subject. "After all, it certainly looks important, doesn't it? Real enough to make someone wonder, at the very least. Abstract designs, all those words, and more…perhaps it's a lie, but it could seem authentic in the right light, and in this case, that may be what matters."

"How so?" She tilted her head as she turned to me.

"Think about it," I whispered. "You asked 'why,' but think about the implications of this place. Assume I'm right and that Hunters could be made on this altar. But nothing is ever free, is it? And from the amount of blood spilt here, I think we can guess what this particular cost was."

"Human lives," She answered.

"Yes," I agreed. "Many, many, many human lives."

"Then it's…a ploy?" She guessed, eyebrows furrowing as she tried to imagine it. "An attempt to make Kingdoms kill their own people for power?"

I looked at her for a moment, hearing the tone of her voice. She said it like she could see it happening—which I supposed was fair, because I could to. Not willy-nilly, perhaps, but in the right situation, when things got bad enough…I could see it.

But no. This…this went beyond that.

The Riders went beyond that.

"Think bigger," I told her, feeling more certain by the second. "Imagine what might have happened. Someone—perhaps a god, to all appearances, or perhaps someone claiming to be a servant of one—tells people of this place and the power it holds. He tells them of how he could give them warriors to protect them from their enemies and slay the monsters at their door, give knowledge and wisdom that has been lost for ages, and save them from the darkness. But in return, he requires something from them. He could dress it up, say that it's some sign of faith or a necessary evil to keep their god strong or whatever else, but in the end, the truth is he needs something and something big. Let's say the lives of a hundred normal men to give strength to one Hunter."

"I've known people who'd take that deal." Raven noted.

"I know," I nodded, smiling at her. "But it's not a single person involved here, is it? And a hundred lives might seem a bit more costly when one of them might be your own. Imagine some government official coming down and telling the entirety of Vale that the cost of Hunters would be paid in blood from now on. How do you think they would react?"

"The words 'Oh shit' come to mind. So do outrage, objections, and panic."

I had to chuckle a little bit at that, but nodded again.

"Indeed," I agreed. "And I'm sure a great many people thought something along the lines of 'Oh shit' when they heard it would cost a hundred or a thousand or however many lives to do something like this. But after a while, with the Grimm attacking and so much on the line—the lives of an entire nation at stake—I imagine someone would eventually stop for a moment and think to themselves 'You know, he didn't say it had to be our men.'"

Raven looked at me for a moment, blinking quickly beneath her mask.

"You're talking about war," She said. "That this message would make a nation go to war to capture sacrifices."

"It's not a message," I shook my head, gesturing to each side of the pyramid in turn. "It's four messages. There's a language on each side of this pyramid, each completely different from the other. Four languages and, presumably, four different kingdoms to speak them. And each was told the same thing—what it would cost them to keep their people safe."

"And they turned upon each other to pay that cost," Raven whispered as she puzzled it out. "Even though they'd have had the same enemy, they'd have been at each other's throats, weakening each other every time they fought. But every time they captured enough of the enemy, they could sacrifice them here, kill them by the hundreds, and new warriors would be born."

"And each time that happened, it improved the position of whoever did it," I said. "It made them stronger, safer, and better able to win more battles. The only response, then, would have been to get more Hunters of your own. They'd have fought each other and amongst themselves and worse over power like this, bleeding each other dry as the entire region was destabilized by the fighting."

"Divide and conquer," She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"It's a classic strategy for a reason," I told her with a shrug.

"And when it was over?" She asked. "When they finished fighting?"

"In a war where the enemy can profit so much from death?" I lifted an eyebrow. "By the time they'd finished, only one kingdom would have remained—and from the blood of their enemies, they'd have empowered thousands of Hunters, maybe even tens of thousands. An army like that would be terrifying in any era, and coming off such a vicious war…"

I shook my head again.

"Maybe they simply continued," I said. "Turned on other nations to further the growth of their power or to satisfy their god or whatever. Or maybe, once they'd killed the other three kingdoms, they felt safe and content. In the former, they'd continue, tearing apart everything that got in their way, but in the latter…when they stopped, they'd have had one of the strongest armies in history. And every single member of it would have been a pawn of the Red Rider."

I held out a hand and set it on the altar, closing my eyes for a moment. Thick as the bloodstains seemed to my eyes, they were long since faded and there was nothing for me to gather with Psycometry—but I didn't need any skills to image how many people must have died screaming on this altar. I wondered how many of them had been surprised by who put them there.

"You wondered why the infected would kill Grimm, Raven," I continued without lifting my eyes. "But it doesn't really matter how many Grimm die, does it? We know that, in the grand scheme of things, a few hundred or thousand or ten thousand Grimm wouldn't make so much as a dent in their population, and though they're careful and cautious, the Grimm do not hesitate to sacrifice themselves when needed. And for this? The deaths of entire nations? They'd die gladly by the thousands, throw themselves on as many swords as they needed to convince the people they were safe. These kingdoms could have stood as one, united as fellow men to stand before the threat of the Grimm, but they didn't. All because of this decorated pile of stone and a Grimm that probably thought it was funny to watch."

Raven looked down at my hand and the altar beneath it.

"Perhaps," She whispered. "It's a good theory, but there's no way to know for sure and so we can't simply assume its fact. And even if it is true, doesn't explain what happened to Summer or Ruby."

I looked at her for a moment.

And then I pushed the altar to the side, revealing what lay beneath.

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