Chapter 512: The Crimson Womb
The Crimson Womb was an Abyssal relic, a living seed buried at the core of their world.
What was strange about the Crimson Womb was that it could absorb death and return life.
It could consume blood, corpses, and produce new bodies.
But the most terrifying aspect of the Crimson Womb was its ability to preserve memories within any living creature.
As long as the object had once possessed memories, the Crimson Womb could preserve them, return them to a new life, or transfer them into another living creature without any side effect or rejection.
Thoren’s expression gradually became more serious as he listened.
The ability to preserve memories was already terrifying enough, but when combined with the ability to create new bodies, the implications were almost impossible to comprehend.
A person could die.
Their body could decay.
Their soul could disappear.
Yet their memories could remain.
And if those memories could be transferred into another body without rejection, then what exactly did death mean?
For the first time since entering the cavern, Thoren no longer felt impatient.
Since he had decided to find out everything, he had already accepted whatever baggage might come with knowing these secrets.
"So, what happened afterward?" he asked calmly. "Did they succeed or what?"
"Succeed?" The Ancient Scorpion rolled her massive eyes slightly. "That depends on your definition of immortality."
Slowly, the Ancient Scorpion continued.
After finding the Crimson Womb, the Veyrath believed this was their salvation.
They believed they had finally discovered the secret of immortality.
But they were wrong.
It devoured.
At first, however, they had no idea what they had awakened.
With the discovery of the Crimson Womb, the Veyrath fed it blood for the first time.
And from there, everything changed.
They fed it corpses.
They fed it prisoners.
They fed it beasts.
They fed it failed experiments.
They even fed it their ordinary dying elders.
In return, the Crimson Womb released a mysterious power toward them.
The power of immortality.
Those who were baptized in that power grew younger.
Their frail skin returned to its youthful appearance, wrinkles disappearing as their bodies gradually regained the vitality they had lost through countless years.
Their exhausted souls regained vitality at a visible speed.
Those who had once been on the verge of death suddenly possessed the strength to stand again.
Even lands and animals that were fortunate enough to come into contact with the power began to evolve.
Plants became more vigorous.
Animals became stronger.
The land itself seemed to regain vitality.
For a while, the Veyrath civilization entered its greatest golden age.
Their people lived longer.
Their warriors became stronger.
Their sages possessed more time to pursue knowledge.
Their civilization advanced at an unprecedented pace. Everything they had dreamed of seemed to be within their grasp.
Death, which had once terrified the entire Veyrath race, appeared to have finally been defeated.
But then, it happened.
Just as the Veyrath were becoming stronger, so was the Crimson Womb.
Its appetite increased.
The ordinary corpses that had once satisfied it were no longer enough while also, the bodies of dying elders were no longer enough.
The prisoners were no longer enough.
The beasts were no longer enough.
It no longer wanted dead bodies.
It no longer wanted limited feeding.
It wanted to continue feeding without stopping.
Its instinct was simple.
Devour. Devour. And devour.
The more it consumed, the stronger it became.
The stronger it became, the greater its hunger grew.
It became an endless cycle that the Veyrath had unknowingly created themselves.
So, the land began to dry.
Everywhere, the Crimson Womb’s roots spread beneath the earth, reaching farther and farther from its original location.
Wherever those roots passed, the earth began to change.
The fertile soil gradually disappeared.
Streams dried up.
Plants withered.
The once-living landscape slowly lost its vitality as the Crimson Womb consumed life within the world.
It spread gradually, almost silently.
A patch of fertile land would become dry.
Then another.
Then another.
Yet, it was not satisfied.
With the land barren and the corpses gone, it eventually turned its attention to the only living food that remained.
The Veyrath.
It began to devour the Veyrath alive.
The realization alone was enough to make Thoren’s expression turn solemn.
Reaching this stage, the Ancient Scorpion paused for a moment, her massive eyes becoming distant as if she were looking into memories buried beneath thousands of years.
"So, what happened afterward?" Thoren asked, curiosity burning within his heart. "Did the Veyrath do something to stop it?"
By now, he had already taken a chair out of his inventory and settled into his seat as he listened to the story.
There was no longer any impatience in his expression.
Every piece of information the Ancient Scorpion revealed seemed to connect to the countless mysteries he had encountered since entering the Bleeding Desert.
"Yes and no..." she responded before continuing her narration.
When the Veyrath realized the Crimson Womb was changing their world, their civilization split into two factions.
The first faction was called the Ashen Crown.
They were the rulers, nobles, and high priests of their civilization.
They possessed enormous authority and controlled most of the Veyrath civilization’s resources, knowledge, and military forces.
Unlike those who feared the Crimson Womb, they did not believe its transformation was necessarily a disaster.
They believed the transformation could still be controlled.
More importantly, they saw an opportunity hidden within the catastrophe. They wanted to merge the Veyrath race with the Crimson Womb and become immortal gods.
To them, the Crimson Womb was not an enemy. It was the final step toward transcending mortality.
They believed that if they could completely merge with it, they would no longer need ordinary bodies, ordinary souls, or even ordinary life.
They would become something beyond the limitations of mortal existence.
As for the second faction, they were called the Buried Sun.
They were scholars, rebels, soul warriors, and lower priests who had witnessed the transformation of their world firsthand.
Unlike the Ashen Crown, they eventually realized the horrifying truth. The Crimson Womb was not a seed of immortality.
It was a world-consuming parasite.
Thus, they wanted to seal it before their world became nothing more than barren desert sand.
Unfortunately, how could the Ashen Crown allow them to do that?
To the rulers of the Veyrath, sealing the Crimson Womb meant abandoning the greatest opportunity their civilization had ever discovered.
Neither faction was willing to surrender.
Therefore, the two factions eventually warred against each other.
After so many years, the Ashen Crown won the civil war.
With their old rivals out of the picture, the Ashen Crown finally possessed everything they needed to carry out their ultimate plan.
They performed the greatest ritual in Veyrath history.
The ritual was called the World Molting Ritual.
The purpose was simple.
They wanted every Veyrath to shed their mortal bodies and be reborn through the Crimson Womb.
It was the culmination of everything they had pursued.
They believed their bodies were the final chains restricting them from true immortality.
If those bodies were discarded and replaced through the Crimson Womb, they would no longer be bound by the natural laws of life and death.
The entire Veyrath race would transcend together.
They would become immortal. They would become something greater than ordinary life.
But the ritual failed.
"What did you say?"
Thoren suddenly rose from his chair.
His eyes widened, and the calm expression that had remained on his face throughout the entire conversation finally disappeared.
"They failed?"
His voice carried genuine disbelief.
After everything he had heard, he had expected the Ashen Crown to succeed.
After all, they had defeated their opposition, controlled the civilization, and possessed everything necessary to perform the ritual.
Yet somehow, even with all of that, they had failed.
"Yes. What do you think happened?" the Ancient Scorpion asked calmly. "If they had succeeded, do you think our world would be like this?"
Her words immediately silenced him.
Thoren stared at her for several seconds before slowly lowering himself back into his chair.
Sigh!
A heavy sigh escaped his mouth as he rubbed his forehead.
She was right.
If the World Molting Ritual had succeeded, there would be no reason for the Bleeding Desert to be like this.
"So, what happened afterward, and how does it connect to me?" Thoren asked, repeating the question for what felt like the umpteenth time.
The Ancient Scorpion remained silent. Her massive eyes stared directly at him.
For several seconds, she said nothing and then, slowly, she opened her massive maw.
"Your sister..."