All those who are contaminated are putting on an act.
Their purpose.
It's very simple.
The idea was to make Saruman and the others believe that the stone door was conceived through wisdom, and to induce in them the curiosity and desire to unlock that final door that they would inevitably experience in their desperate situation.
They need someone who can see through the "infinity" of the corridor, someone who can resist the assimilation of this place, someone who can gather enough wisdom and knowledge to find and activate the "key" hidden on the stone door, and then release the Lord who can lead them to eternity.
Many had entered before, but without exception, none had succeeded. Most became part of them, too eager to leave. Saruman, this gifted and knowledgeable young Wizard, was the perfect candidate they had been waiting for for countless years.
Yes.
Saruman's repeated miraculous survivals were not coincidences; these people were simply making Saruman stronger, strong enough to open the stone gate and release the being sealed within.
They are not guardians of the ruins, but rather guides. They lead those who meet the criteria to that door, to the true, unspeakable realm of terror beyond.
Karg's bravery and Lina's corruption were merely additional bargaining chips and catalysts in this long selection process, deepening Saruman's obsession with finding a way out.
Now, the prey is in the trap.
Their laughter echoed through the empty corridors, filled with blasphemous joy. The stone gate remained tightly shut, but the desolate world it connected to, the dimension of the sleeping city known as R'lyeh, had welcomed a new sacrifice, or rather, a new variable.
Saruman's wisdom, Karg's resilience, and the deep-sea pollution within Lina —what ripples would be stirred if these three were thrown into that lifeless pond? Perhaps this is exactly what these ancient beings, or rather, the will they serve—a will far beyond comprehension—would be pleased to see.
As the laughter subsided, the blurry figures began to slowly dissipate, just as they had appeared, merging back into the emptiness and darkness of the corridor. They had achieved their goal and no longer needed to linger.
Finally, the stone chamber and corridor returned to absolute silence.
Only that enormous stone gate, like an unchanging tombstone, stood there, silently witnessing yet another batch of moths flying towards the flames that could consume their souls. The reliefs on the gate, those enormous, tentacle-like figures, seemed to reveal a faint, satisfied smile in the shadows.
But what awaited Saruman and his companions behind the door was not the path to survival or salvation they had imagined, but a deeper and more utter despair.
certainly.
And there is Destiny from which there is no escape.
In conclusion
Saruman, Karg, and Lina vanished completely into the swirling darkness behind the stone gate.
The scene in my memory was frozen in that moment.
Like the last touch of color on a yellowed painting, it slowly faded and dissipated, transforming back into specks of pale blue magical light that lingered around the fingertips of the blind old Wizard Saruman.
A thousand years later, in the Chamber of Secrets beneath the African Ministry of Magic, that heavy silence, so oppressive it seemed, descended once more.
The Black Robed Woman remained standing in the same spot, his distorted face hidden in deeper shadows beneath his hood, with only his vertical pupils occasionally reflecting a faint glimmer of residual magic.
He was processing everything he had just witnessed—the perseverance in despair, the flashes of wisdom, the final, unwavering step forward. But a sudden question, like a venomous snake, burrowed into his mind.
"Teacher."
The Black Robed Woman figure broke the silence, his voice carrying a barely perceptible hint of inquiry, "The memories you just presented extend up to the point where you stepped into that portal—but how do you know that after your figures disappeared," in the corridor outside the stone gate, projections of those ancient beings appeared, emitting—a triumphant laugh?
This question, like a cold needle, pierced the heavy atmosphere between the two, a atmosphere based on their shared secret.
The elderly Saruman, who had maintained a solemn and sorrowful expression, visibly stiffened for a moment. His fingers, resting on his knees, unconsciously curled, and his empty eye sockets seemed to shift slightly, avoiding the invisible gaze of the Black Robed Woman. The heavy atmosphere, imbued with the weight of a thousand years of history, instantly dissipated considerably.
Instead, there was a subtle, almost awkward stagnation.
"Uh--this--" The old Wizard's voice carried a rare, awkward laugh, completely out of character for his status. The laugh was dry and short. "People get old, child. A thousand years have passed, and even the clearest memories will become blurred, like a beach repeatedly washed by the tide. The brain—well, to protect itself, or simply to fill those gaps, it will naturally—perform some reasonable processing and deduction."
He paused, seemingly choosing his words carefully, his tone becoming more elusive. "You know, based on what happened later, we deduce certain possibilities from the past"—that's natural, isn't it? After all, we've long been familiar with the malice of those ancient forces.
This explanation sounds reasonable; the wear and tear of time can indeed alter the details of a memory.
But for Wizard like Saruman, who had touched the threshold of Legend and possessed a vast and boundless Mental Power, attributing such clear "memories" concerning core secrets to the brain's "self-processing" was inappropriate.
That seems rather far-fetched.
This is more like a subconscious cover-up.
A hastily erected private project.
Especially coming from the mouth of a Wizard once renowned for his wisdom and insight. The Black Robed Woman didn't respond immediately, but simply watched him silently. He knew that this "teacher" could sense even the slightest magical fluctuations in his youth; how could he be vague about something as fundamental as memory?
after a while.
The Black Robed Woman ultimately did not ask any further questions.
"All right."
The Black Robed Woman listened quietly, his distorted face beneath the hood expressionless. He was not one to be tactless, and he knew all too well that the old man before him, even in his advanced age, was not someone to be easily offended.
Moreover, there is an even deeper bond between them—a long-buried past, a secret that was never recorded even in the files of the Department of Mysteries.
That's why.
He didn't press the matter further.
Of course, besides his suppressed curiosity, what he cared about more was his teacher's past experiences; a corner of the truth seemed to have been gently touched.
But a deeper fog of mystery also emerged. So what he was more concerned about now was the place behind that door, a place even his teacher kept secret.
"I understand, teacher," The Black Robed Woman said softly, changing the subject. "So, what kind of scene lies behind the door? Our Department of Mysteries has guarded this place for generations, sealing it and eliminating anything that attempts to explore or has been corrupted—but most of us, including myself, don't really know what kind of existence this door, or rather this ruin, truly connects to, and what lies dormant deep within it? What is that land like?"
His voice carried a complex curiosity, mixed with the solemnity of duty and a certain relief at his predetermined Destiny. He guarded the secret, yet knew nothing of its full extent—an irony, of course. It was also a form of protection, and perhaps the only person in the world who could answer his questions was the teacher before him.
after all.
Apart from Saruman's squad.
No one ever came out of the door alive again.
Because you don't need to know.
Saruman seemed relieved, and the atmosphere returned to its somber tone.
Ignorance is a blessing.
Saruman's eyes suddenly turned deep and unfathomable.
He remained silent for a moment, as if organizing his thoughts, trying to describe the indescribable horror with the limited vocabulary of humankind. Finally, he looked up at the frozen scene created by the memory magic.
He stared at the location of the now-closed portal, as if he could still see the scene behind it through the void. His lips trembled slightly, and his voice was almost inaudible.
This Great Wizard from a thousand years ago, now nearing the end of his life, spoke in an almost sighing tone, "There—is the end of language, the grave of reason. The scene that unfolds there is far more terrifying than all the nightmares you can imagine combined."
"It's not just a visual shock, but a complete subversion and pollution of existence itself and our understanding of the universe. Just seeing it is the beginning of Eternal Damnation."
Although it sounds alarmist.
But that is indeed the case.
The corruption of Cthulhu —those who know, know. Just a few descriptions, yet the temperature in the Chamber of Secrets seemed to drop several degrees. "Is that so?"
Upon hearing this, the Black Robed Woman's fingers, hidden beneath his sleeves and covered in tiny scales, trembled slightly. As one of the "gatekeepers" of the Department of Mysteries, he had been guarding this place for over twenty years. He had purged countless criminals who attempted to uncover secrets and contained countless crises of magical leaks.
Yet they never knew what they were actually protecting.
Behind that door lie slumbering ancient creatures? Sealed-up Forbidden Knowledge? Or some chaotic force powerful enough to overturn the very order of reality?
Curiosity here is a death sentence. He only knows that anyone who tries to force open that door will be reduced to ashes in an instant—not even their soul will remain.
Of course, despite knowing this area better than anyone else, he did not back down. Instead, he let out a low, hoarse laugh that sounded like a broken bellows.
"Anyway—I won't live much longer, teacher. This body and soul have long been corrupted by the power you witnessed. Before the final moment arrives, knowing what we've been fighting against all this time, knowing what you faced back then—for me, that's a kind of liberation, or rather, a kind of homecoming."
He spoke very seriously.
He had clearly made up his mind. That's understandable, given that he had dedicated his life to guarding secrets, and now that his days were numbered, it was natural for him to have some personal motives.
Don't forget.
The members of the Department of Mysteries may seem cold and indifferent, but they are human beings, and humans have emotions. The moment they completely lose these emotions is the moment they lose their human identity and become corrupted beings completely tainted by Cthulhu. That is the end for every corrupted being.
I understand how you feel.
Saruman looked at him, a deep sense of pity flashing across his weathered face.
He understood that feeling. When darkness has seeped into one's very bones, knowing its source can bring an eerie calm. He nodded, his withered fingers rising again, and the eerie blue magical light began to gather once more, preparing to reveal the forbidden memories behind the door.
However, just as the stream of memories was about to unfold once more, "BOOM!!"
A muffled, abrupt, yet incredibly penetrating roar suddenly erupted from above them without warning! This was followed by faint magical explosions, the sound of walls shattering, and several muffled shouts filled with terror or rage.
The stagnant air Chamber of Secrets was instantly shattered!
"What happened?"
Saruman's movements came to an abrupt halt, and the light at his fingertips suddenly went out.
His blind face suddenly turned toward the direction from which the vibration came. Although he couldn't see, his powerful senses swept out like radar.
"Huh? What's going on?" The Black Robed Woman's body tensed instantly, like a cheetah poised to pounce. He listened intently, his pupils beneath the hood suddenly contracting.
"It's up there—the prison level!" The Black Robed Woman's voice instantly turned cold and sharp, the previous heaviness and curiosity vanishing, replaced by the ruthlessness of an enforcer. "There are still some who slipped through the net! When I was clearing out those criminals who had already been concealed and corrupted, there were still some who managed to evade my senses—"
His words carried a hint of self-reproach and disbelief. These survivors, able to hide even after his thorough cleanup, either possessed a unique talent for concealment or were far more adapted to the pollution than expected. Either way, they were extremely dangerous and absolutely could not be allowed to leave!
"You've become complacent, but it can still be salvaged." Saruman nodded slowly, his empty eye sockets "staring" at the Black Robed Woman, his voice low and filled with undeniable authority. "Go. Don't let a single one escape. The secrets here must not be leaked to the outside world, not even a whisper. Otherwise, the resulting disaster will be unimaginable."
"Not a single one can escape—"
These five words struck the Black Robed Woman's heart like a heavy hammer. His body stiffened almost imperceptibly. He understood the meaning behind those words all too well—it wasn't just about stopping their escape, it was about—
Thoroughly eliminate. This includes those targets he was unwilling to eliminate, which will eventually have to be eliminated as well.
The Black Robed Woman was unwilling to face this, but he didn't ask, knowing that now was not the time to press for answers.
"Um."
The Black Robed Woman didn't respond much, but simply took a deep breath, the air, mixed with the smell of sulfur and the fishy odor of the deep sea, stinging his distorted lungs.
He turned around abruptly.
His black robe sleeves fluttered like bat wings, and his figure transformed into a blurry black shadow, disappearing Silencio into the dark staircase entrance to the upper prison with a speed far beyond that of ordinary people.
He vanished into the darkness in an instant.
In the Chamber of Secrets, only the blind Saruman remained once more. He silently "gazed" in the direction where the Black Robed Woman had disappeared, and after a long while, he let out a barely audible sigh that echoed eerily in the deathly silence. The unfinished memories, the terrifying story behind the door, had to be interrupted once again.
But the pursuit in reality.
It has begun all over again.