The Black File reaches the astropathic sanctum — and finds the primary soul-reader long dead. His body is desiccated, but his face is smiling. Carved across the walls are dozens of portraits: one man, faceless, repeated. Everyone feels pressure. Dread. Psychic trace. Everyone but Elias.
Because Elias doesn't feel anything.
-----
The door to the astropathic sanctum didn't resist.
It hissed open without command, pressure-lock long since disengaged.
The lights inside were dim — emergency glow-strips lining the floor like veins of cold blood. No candles. No altars.
Only a thick chalky dust covering the floor.
Lirae crouched to examine it. Ran a gloved finger through it. Held it to her mechadendrite.
"Dead warding salt," she muttered. "Ritual trace only."
"Ritual of what?" Elias asked.
She didn't answer.
Because the answer was already staring at them.
The astropath sat on his knees in the center of the room.
Back straight. Robes intact. Hands folded in front of him like he was waiting for a prayer that never came.
But his skin—
Shriveled.
Gray.
His eye sockets were empty, burned black from within. His lips had curled into a stiff, dry smile. Not one of peace.
Of recognition.
He died seeing something he understood.
And welcomed it.
"Warp burn?" Volst asked.
Lirae shook her head.
"No. No trauma. No psychic bleed. No internal rupture."
"Then how?"
"Don't know."
She stood.
But didn't turn her back on the corpse.
Malk stayed near the door.
His voice low.
"This room's too quiet."
"It's a sealed vault," Volst said.
"No. I mean the air. It's not still. It's... deliberate."
Elias moved further in.
His footsteps echoed wrong — not sharp, not deep. Just… distant.
He turned slowly.
And saw them.
The walls.
All four, from floor to ceiling, were covered in drawings.
Not paint.
Not blood.
Etchings.
Scraped with fingernails or dull tools.
The same figure, over and over again — faceless. Always standing. Always tall. Sometimes behind a door. Sometimes between two windows. Sometimes in a mirror.
Always alone.
Always staring.
No eyes.
Just the shape of a man that shouldn't be there.
Bit stared too long.
He whispered:
"I think I've seen him."
"When?" Elias asked.
The boy blinked.
Shook his head slowly.
"I don't know. That's the problem."
The System pulsed softly under Elias's skin.
Nothing hostile.
Nothing flagged.
Just another whisper in the background.
> No Entity Detected
> Threat Level: NULL
> Chakra Stability: Normal
> User Status: Emotionally Atypical
Volst noticed Elias standing still.
"You feel anything?"
He shook his head.
"No pressure. No distortion. No... fear."
Volst narrowed her eye.
"Even now?"
Elias looked back at the smiling corpse.
At the dozens of identical, faceless figures surrounding it.
And he said, honestly:
"I feel nothing."
Lirae stepped beside him.
She whispered, almost to herself:
"Then maybe that's why it's watching you."
There was a sudden snap from the back of the sanctum.
Everyone turned.
No movement.
But one of the wall panels — etched with dozens of faceless men — now had one more drawing.
Fresh.
Still flaking dust.
Bit's voice came out dry.
"We didn't hear anyone scratching."
Volst brought up her weapon.
"Then it doesn't need to scratch."
Elias stared at the new drawing.
It looked exactly like the others.
Except this one—
This one was drawn wearing his coat.
[END OF PART 3]