Forbidden Constellation's Blade-Chapter 151: A Lie That Lived Longer Than Truth

Ryn barely made it through the window and into the narrow gap before the bookshelf slid back into place with a soft thud.

He froze, holding his breath, waiting for the mechanism to finish settling.

Silence.

Only then did he exhale.

The staircase descended steeply, carved directly into bedrock. There were no guidelines, not even lanterns to light up the place. Just narrow steps spiraling downward into darkness.

Ryn guided his Essence, funneling it toward his eyes.

The space finally lit back up into view, muted and colorless, but still there.

Nearby tunnel walls were reinforced, mostly old stone layered with newer supports. This wasn’t some forgotten cellar, it was more like a renovated bunker.

Ryn frowned faintly.

That’s... odd. Why would they need another bunker down here?

He filed the thought away and continued downward.

The deeper he went, the more the air became cooler, almost stale even.

A door came into view a moment later, and behind it...voices.

Ryn stopped instantly, pressing himself flat against the nearby wall.

His first instinct was to listen, but he felt it immediately.

[Enhanced Senses] was locked. It still lingered in his subconscious but was inaccessible somehow.

"...Right. Not here," he murmured silently.

He adjusted.

Instead of relying on instinct, he compressed Essence around his ears, threading it carefully through his senses, mimicking what the Blessing usually did naturally.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was enough.

"...—still think it was a risk," a voice said.

Ryn’s eyes narrowed.

The Father.

Another voice answered, smoother and more carefree.

"The risk paid off."

It was...the City Leader?

Ryn crept lower, careful with every step.

A third voice joined in

"And you made sure they don’t remember?"

The Father chuckled softly. "Of course. Children are remarkably easy to redirect."

"...I’m just saying," the City Leader added, his tone openly mocking,"it’s still funny to me."

"Four of them," the man continued, a smile in his voice. "Out of all the filth we pushed out. Four."

Another man laughed.

"Cockroaches," the City Leader said lazily. "Always the ones you don’t bother to stomp that crawl back."

"...I’ll say this much," a woman’s voice chimed in. "Pushing out the sick and weak was the best decision you ever made."

A brief pause.

"They were mouths," she continued lightly, "but never hands."

The City Leader laughed like he’d heard a clever remark.

Another voice snorted. "And four of them still crawled back."

"Which," the City Leader said pleasantly, "just proves the point. Even the useless can be repurposed, given the right circumstances."

Another voice spoke up, amused. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

"I’ll give you this, you handled the children beautifully."

The Father chuckled. "Did I?"

"Oh, absolutely," the man replied. "Magnificent work."

The Father’s voice warmed with quiet pride.

"They didn’t need to remember what really happened. They needed something simpler. Something they could carry without breaking."

"The flower fields," someone said, approvingly. "Inspired."

Ryn’s jaw tightened.

"I made it sound like a dream," the Father continued. "A childish whim. Something harmless."

He laughed softly.

"And I made the biggest believe it was his idea too."

A pause.

"Just the cherry on top."

Ryn felt it before he understood it.

A tightening in his chest, like a hand reaching for control that wasn’t there.

Nico, in the back of his subconsciousness.

The reaction tried to surface instinctively. Anger. Revulsion. The urge to move, to do something about this.

But it stalled.

Because the reality was...Nico never heard any of this.

Ryn swallowed.

So this was the difference.

When the memories belonged to Nico, they guided him. Pulled him. Sometimes even pushed him aside.

But this—belonged to Ryn alone.

If Nico ever found out about this back then...

The voices below continued, unaware.

And Ryn listened.

Another voice spoke up, mildly curious.

"Do you think they’ll ever try to turn those powers on us?"

"Overtake us," the man added. "Rule the city themselves."

The Father laughed out loud.

"No," he said easily. "They won’t."

"And you’re certain?" the City Leader asked, humoring the question.

"Completely," the Father replied. "They don’t act independently. Never have."

Ryn’s fingers tightened against the wall.

"The girl," the Father continued. "Aria. She’s the anchor."

A quiet, satisfied breath.

"As long as she believes she’s helping," he said, "the others will fall in line. They always do."

"And if one of them gets ideas?" the woman asked.

The Father shrugged. "Then I remind her how much everyone needs her."

A low chuckle followed.

"Guilt works," he added. "Devotion works better."

"And if she ever refuses?" someone pressed.

"Then I simply make an example out of someone," the Father said easily.

A chair scraped lightly against stone.

"Well," another voice said, satisfied, "if that’s settled, there’s no point lingering on hypotheticals."

The City Leader hummed. "Agreed."

The Father lifted his glass.

"Then let’s continue as planned," he said. "The groundwork is already laid."

Someone laughed. "People are desperate. They’ll accept anything if it comes wrapped in hope."

The Father’s smile was audible.

"Especially when it already has a face."

Glasses clinked together as laughter went up in the room.

"Cheers!"

"To faith," another added.

The Father spoke last, pleased and certain.

"To the Church of Aria."

The words echoed once, then stopped midway.

Sound stretched, warping slightly. The voices blurred together, laughter dissolving into something distant and hollow.

Ryn felt it then.

The pressure in his chest returned, stronger than before, and this time it didn’t stop at tension. It grabbed at his mind.

The walls around him began to lose definition.

Stone became shadow, shadow became nothing.

Ryn realized what was happening.

This wasn’t a memory meant to continue. This was the edge of it, the very limit of continuation.

The descent came without warning.

Ryn fell, not through darkness, but through absence. There was no up or down, no sense of movement beyond the endless sensation of being pulled away from something unfinished.

Then finally.

VWOOP.

Ryn inhaled sharply.

The world snapped back into place.

The weight of his body returned all at once.

He breathed heavily, everything breath in and out became almost manual, like he was circulating air through his body himself.

Ryn stayed where he was for a few seconds longer than necessary, one hand braced against the floor, fingers flexing just to prove they were real.

I’m back.

He stayed still for a moment longer.

The cathedral was the same as in the memory, just...in ruins.

He pushed himself to his feet, boots scraping softly against the floor, and turned in a slow circle. Every detail aligned with memory, the present memory, not the one he’d just fallen out of.

Then his gaze settled on the stone seat.

The crystal sphere was still there, resting where it had been before.

Ryn approached cautiously.

The closer he got, the clearer it became that something had changed.

The light within it was dimmer now.

He crouched beside it, eyes narrowing.

So it wasn’t just showing me things, he thought.

It was doing something.

How long had he been gone?

Hours? Days? Months?

He had no way of knowing.

Ryn hesitated only briefly before reaching out.

The moment his fingers closed around the orb, a faint chill seeped into his palm, but nothing else happened.

He slipped it into his Dimensional Ring.

If it had brought him here, if it had shown him what it did, then leaving it behind felt like a mistake.

Ryn straightened and cast one last glance around the cathedral.

The silence felt heavier now.

I can’t afford to stay.

Whatever time he’d lost, was more than he was willing to lose.

Ryn left the ruins quietly. He didn’t rush, but didn’t linger either, moving through collapsed stone until the cathedral fell behind him.

The front doors opened slowly, the same way he’d seen them move in the past.

The road beyond was narrow and uneven. He followed it for a while, yet it was only his body.

His mind wasn’t there, drifting to what he’d seen and what it was supposed to mean.

Then, Ryn picked up something with his enhanced hearing, both confirming that Blessings worked again along with an approaching presence.

He slowed and looked up.

A wagon rolled toward him from the bend in the road, the animal pulling it was squat and powerful, moving with a calm pace.

A dwarf sat at the reins, beard braided like they all were.

He noticed Ryn immediately and tugged at the reins, bringing the wagon to a stop nearby.

They regarded each other in silence for a moment.

Then Ryn raised a hand. "You headed toward Khaz Vordun?"

The dwarf snorted. "Only place worth heading, these days."

Ryn nodded once. "Mind if I get a lift?"

The dwarf glanced him up and down before giving his head a little nudge.

"Climb on," he said. "Long road yet."

"Thank you."

Ryn settled onto the back of the wagon as it rolled forward, the steady creak of wood and iron filling the space between thoughts.

For a moment, he just sat there, letting the road stretch out beneath them.

Then he reached into his ring.

The first thing he pulled out was the crystal sphere. Curiosity tugged at him instinctively, questions without answers, information that could potentially help him avoid future tragedy.

Ryn stared at it for a few seconds longer than necessary.

Then he put it away.

His hand moved again, slower this time.

He drew out a folded, delicately embroidered, even if a little imperfect from her terrible sewing skills.

Ryn closed his fingers around it, grounding himself in the simple reality of the fabric.

He leaned back slightly, closing his eyes for a second.

He couldn’t afford to live in what had already happened.

Not anymore.

Whatever truths he’d uncovered, whatever ghosts he carried—

He needed to live for what came next.

For the future.

The road to Khaz Vordun stretched on ahead, long and unbroken.

And this time, Ryn followed it without looking back.