The room around them was chaotic, strewn with journals, ledgers, and scattered notes that seemed to bleed despair. Both men instinctively began sifting through the clutter, seeking answers to the mystery that had unraveled before them. Each fragment of information added a piece to a dark and twisted puzzle.
Orion paused, his hand resting on a particularly worn journal. The brittle pages revealed a chilling entry:
"The eldest son, born under the black moon, bears a weight no mortal should carry. His body shall betray him, his mind shall falter, and he shall bring ruin to the bloodline if left unchecked."
"A curse?" Orion's voice was quiet, the word heavy in the still air. He turned the journal toward Judge, who scanned the passage with a grim expression.
"If this curse was real, it would have driven the family to desperation," Judge said. "But curses often serve as veils for disease or misfortune. We need more than this."
They dug deeper, uncovering evidence of the Revona noble family's ties to the underworld. Financial records and household logs painted a damning picture: Revona Village, far from an idyllic settlement, had been established to mask criminal enterprises. Yet something didn't add up. The logs showed a sudden halt in illicit activities three years ago.
"Look at this," Orion said, pointing to an entry. "They stopped everything. Smuggling, slave trade, even black market dealings. It's like they vanished overnight."
Judge rubbed his chin, his mind turning over the possibilities. "Internal conflict, perhaps? Or something worse." His gaze shifted to a faded photograph pinned haphazardly on the wall. It depicted a frail boy beside a stern-looking woman. The boy's sunken eyes were hauntingly familiar.
"This child," Orion whispered, brushing away the dust with a faint spell. "It's him. The one we fought."
Judge's jaw tightened. "Then all of this… it's tied to him. What was his affliction? A disease? Or something more sinister?"
Among the scattered notes, they uncovered records of grotesque experiments—attempts to merge human and demonic physiology. Diagrams detailed warped figures with distorted limbs, failures marked as "subjects" whose bodies decayed rapidly due to incompatibility. The sketches, frantic and uneven, hinted at a desperation that bordered on madness.
"This isn't just about saving the child," Orion said, his voice taut with unease. "This is obsession."
Judge nodded, his chain clinking faintly as he moved. "And worse. Necromancy, demonic rituals… This family didn't just fall. They tore themselves apart."
One document stood out. It chronicled the family's descent into isolation, their experiments spiraling out of control. The note ended in jagged, bloodstained handwriting:
"The curse must be contained. The eldest son… he cannot live. But his power… his power could change everything. We cannot let it die with him."
Judge's voice dropped to a growl. "They weren't just trying to cure him. They were trying to harness whatever afflicted him."
Their conversation was cut short as they approached a set of reinforced steel doors. Judge motioned for Orion to ready himself. With a low groan, the door creaked open, revealing a stark contrast to the decay outside. The sterile chamber beyond gleamed with an unnatural cleanliness. At its center stood a stone pedestal inscribed with runes—a summoning circle. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars containing preserved organs and glowing vials that pulsed faintly in the dim light. The air reeked of death and dark magic.
Orion's breath hitched. "This… this is beyond anything I've studied."
Judge stepped forward, his chain uncoiling like a serpent. "Stay sharp. Whoever's behind this might still be here."
The two began examining the chamber, piecing together fragments of a horrifying legacy. Among the scattered documents, a single record caught Judge's attention. It spoke of necromancy—a power capable of summoning and controlling the dead. The Brotherhood's history lessons painted it as a force so devastating that entire kingdoms had been obliterated by a single practitioner. Yet this… this felt different.
"This isn't true necromancy," Judge murmured. "If it were, we'd be standing in ruins. This… this is an echo. Dangerous, but not the full scale of what the legends describe."
Orion's fingers trailed over a preserved parchment, its edges stained with blood. "Even if it's not pure necromancy, it's close enough. Whoever did this was tampering with powers they didn't fully understand."
Judge's gaze hardened. "And if they're still here, they'll answer for what they've done."
The two stood in the eerie glow of the summoning circle, their masks concealing the unease that gripped them. This mansion, with all its horrors, was only the beginning. Whatever lay ahead would test the very limits of their resolve. But for now, they pressed on, determined to uncover the truth—no matter the cost.