“I can’t help but worry about the fact that we’re visiting a place dedicated to the largest tragedy to strike the Western Holdings…during our honeymoon.”

“My husband’s not an ordinary person, so the locations we visit for our honeymoon naturally are special too,” Isabelle replied, a charming smile on her face. His heart jumped at that sight, and on instinct, Gaius moved to seal her lips with his own.

Caught unaware by that sudden kiss, Isabelle resisted for a second or so, before reciprocating his gesture.

“How cute,” Nexus commented idly. “But is this really the right place to start snogging each other?”

Something like cold water fell onto his heart, and Gaius forced himself to separate reluctantly. “I was, uh, thinking that her smile was too beautiful for a place that commiserates such sorrow, so I wanted to cover it up.”

“With your lips. Wow. You two…well, just do what you want. I’ll go check on the two kids…”

Gaius felt his face burn, a feeling that only intensified when he saw that Isabelle’s face was as red as a tomato. Muttering something under his breath, he gripped her hand and walked over to the entrance of the building. There weren’t many people around; it would seem that museums really weren’t thriving at this point of time.

The two’s faces had returned to normal by the time they drew up at the counter, where a man was fiddling with a Display. The counter was a drab grey, and all kinds of flyers were stuck on it. Up close, at the very bottom, Gaius could see a flyer that read ‘Advertising space for rent. Approach the counter for queries!’. He didn’t quite know what to think of the whole thing, but he couldn’t help but compare this place to the Solaris Museum.

“Oh, customers!” The man looked up. “Welcome to the Museum of Oblivion. This museum is dedicated to the greatest tragedy to strike the Western Holdings, the opening of the Oblivion Portal. Entry pricing is on the list here, and we have a couple’s special — two for only one gold.”

Gaius looked around the counter, where the remnants of a poor breakfast were still evident.

“A couple’s special, then,” said Isabelle. Such a ticket pricing was odd, considering that this was a museum that commemorated one of the largest disasters to strike the Western Holdings, but Gaius wasn’t about to complain.

“Very good, miss. Here.” Sliding over two tickets, the man returned to his Display, where he was apparently reading something.

It was somewhat unprofessional, but neither of them was the type to make a fuss. Tickets in hand, Gaius and Isabelle headed over to the entrance, where there was a surprisingly modern doorsill there.

“This looks like one of those gates I saw in Interregnum,” said Isabelle. “Do they work the same?”

“Probably,” Gaius replied.

Without much incident, the two got into the building proper.

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The interior was as drab as the counter outside. Gaius could understand that this was a deliberate design choice, but the interior décor wasn’t doing anything to help the mood. Fortunately, the rooms were at least illuminated, with the exhibits all specifically lit up for maximum visibility.

Under Isabelle’s urging, he went over to examine the exhibits. In truth, this was not the first time the two of them had heard about the Oblivion Portal; Pinnacle Kolya had talked about it briefly right before the unwrapping event Gaius had attended with the others and when they were having ice-cream.

Isabelle had probably found this term familiar when she looked through the brochure.

Roughly summarised, the Oblivion Portal was a rift in space that appeared some six thousand years ago, a few years after the current ruler of the Western Holdings took the throne. At that time, she was winning a war against the South. The sudden appearance of the Oblivion Portal in the heart of the Western Holdings forced her forces to withdraw, but tens of thousands of people had died by the time the monsters that escaped the Oblivion Portal were exterminated.

“I remember the Pinnacle talking about this before,” said Isabelle, “but this timing is really too…”

“Sure makes one speechless,” Gaius noted. Now that he thought about it, the sudden appearance of the Oblivion Portal had been very unfortunate. The Western Holdings were on the verge of victory, but…

He decided not to think too much about it.

The next room was full of inscribed names, a list of people who had died when monsters flooded out of the Oblivion Portal.

“Monsters…”

“Something wrong?” Isabelle asked.

“Well, the Chanter of Innocents did touch on this incident before, shortly after I arrived at the true Orb. Those…monsters are actually manifestations of the Crying Abyss, beings he called spectres,” said Gaius. “It’s one of the reasons why he needed a successor. Without a protector, and under the current state of affairs in Orb, spectres would soon flood the world in great numbers.”

He shook his head. “Tragedies like this would probably become common. The Western Holdings, with an established channel to the Crying Abyss, could very well be overrun in days or months. Spectres aren’t living beings; if you ask me, they’re immortal.”

Still, in Xanadu’s timeline, the Oblivion Portal had never existed. In that case, did the Western Holdings win the war against the South? He had never thought about this before, but now that he did, Gaius made a mental note to ask her when the others came over later.

The two moved on to the third room, which were paintings about the attack back then. Clearly, a few talented artists had survived the attack, but the distinctly inhuman exterior was giving Gaius the creeps.

One, in particular, was a close-up painting of one such spectre. It walked on two legs — and that was the only thing it had that resembled a human. Eyes dotted its body, while fleshy, bloody tentacles extruded out of its back. At the area where a stomach should be was a mouth with shark-like teeth, while an enormous eyeball sat on the chest.

Inexplicably, Gaius could only feel desolation from this painting. It wasn’t fear or horror; just sadness, a sorrow so pure that he felt his heart ache.

As that realisation struck him, he felt the Crying Abyss stir. As the Abyss Sovereign, Gaius was linked to the chaotic entity formed by the old gods of Orb, and this painting had somehow earned their…approval.

A hand slipped into his own, and Gaius jolted.

“Something wrong?” Isabelle asked.

“It’s…just that I feel sad, looking at this painting.” Gaius shook his head. “It’s odd, so…hmm? Isabelle?”

Like him, she was transfixed by the painting. “It’s…sad, as you said.”

“Mm.”

The two looked at the painting for a few minutes more, and then moved on to the next room. Gaius had a feeling that if there was any realisation to be made, it would form on its own in due time, under the right conditions.

For now, however, he would let it stew.