Apprentice of the Moon Scented's Journeys {Arknights x Bloodborne}

Prologue/Teaser

In the dimly lit underground chamber that resembled a regal cathedral hall, a sense of mystique enveloped the air. The soft, flickering candlelight and the gaze of the moonlight themselves cast long shadows upon the old, marbled walls, giving the surroundings an eerie yet sacred ambiance. At the head of the hall, an unknown figure, shrouded in a humble yet religious vestments that is adorned of white and black with subtle red colours, his golden coloured crown-like halo hovering over his white hair and wings gleaming subtly in the room, also his beard were braided neatly and his simple round glasses on his face.

He stood before a solitary woman, dressed in the humble attire of a nun, complete with the Lateranian rosario on her neck. She followed closely behind him, her bluish-gray eyes fixed on the enigmatic figure and her ears attuned to his words.

He began to speak in a hushed and reverent tone, and his words echoed through the chamber. "In Principio, homo perambulavit per desolationem," he intoned, his voice carrying the weight of ancient history of his people.

As he spoke, he gestured to an imposing oil painting that hung on the wall behind him. The artwork depicted a group of pilgrims from a time long past, their faces hidden beneath hooded robes, and their path illuminated by rays of the sun passing through a grim dark clouds. Among them, a lone figure stood out, draped in a ragged white cloak and holding a staff, their presence enigmatic amidst the horned people wearing earth-toned robes. The narrator continued, "Quo egebant? Quid quaerebant?"

The nun, wrapped in anticipation, followed his gaze to a second painting adjacent to the first. It showed the same or similar cloaked figure, but the white fabric had turned a somber shade of gray over the years. The figure held a torch in his hand and seems to be on their way to reach a dark, crimson entrance, beyond which darkness seemed to swallow all light. The narrator's words carried a solemn reverence as he declared, "Hodie, veritas diu sepulta est in tempore, nusquam invenienda."

The nun remained captivated, her minds swirling with the mysteries of the Sankta people and Laterano, the figure of the torchbearer who had ventured into the unknown, and the elusive truth that seemed perpetually out of reach.

As the Narrator continued his tale, he gestured towards another captivating painting that adorned the chamber's stone walls. The artwork depicted a congregation of around eight horned figures, their eyes filled with reverence and wonder as they approached the central figure draped in a pristine white cloak. The white-cloaked figure extended their hands open, palms upturned in a gesture of deep respect toward an object of circling cubes. These cubes were adorned with glinting red lights, and in the very heart of the swirling spectacle, a ray of mystical, blinding white light shone forth, casting prismatic hues in every direction and the figure itself, whom in their back seems to grow a pair of luminescent wings and a halo in their head.

One cube, in particular, bore a striking symbol - three straight lines, each topped by three dots, the middle dot being the largest, and a graceful curve that arched above the lines but below the dots.

The Narrator's voice rose in dramatic reverence as he recited, "Canticum cantatum sic erat: Sancti ambulaverunt ad huc, videre infinitas splendores." The words hung in the air, their resonance filling the chamber, and the nun's heart swelled with a profound sense of wonder and awe.

The Narrator continued with fervor, "Ordo Micat, Lex Apparet, Oedon Nos Benedicit!" The words echoed through the underground hall, leaving the nun with a deep sense of purpose and an unquenchable thirst for understanding the significance of the mysterious symbols and the radiant light within the circling cubes.

In the chamber of mystery and reverence, the Narrator continued his profound explanation, "Per Eius benedictionem, Sancti declaraverunt, 'Hic civitatem aedificabimus.'" His voice retained a sense of awe and devotion.