1888: Memoirs of an Unconfirmed Creature Hunter

Chapter 335: The New Round Table Knights

The turbid, fast-flowing tributary of the Rajang River finally returned to its natural rhythm after the brutal fighting.

The massive corpse of the Giant Nabau Serpent floated quietly in the middle of the channel, the red flesh crest that symbolized control over gravity reduced to a lifeless, gray, rotten mass. Dozens of greedy piranhas and freshwater prawns swarmed the blasted wound in its belly, carved open by alchemical explosives, feasting on this rare banquet.

The heavy stench of blood fermented and spread through the hot, humid rainforest air. For humans it was a nausea-inducing torment, but for the countless predators lurking in the forest it was the dinner bell.

Lin Jie and his exhausted teammates paddled with all their might to a comparatively open, rubble-strewn riverbank upstream.

This spot sat higher, with a clear view of the surroundings, and because it was paved with hard cobblestones it was largely free of venomous insects—a natural temporary rest point.

"Cough... cough..."

Julian slumped beside a sun-scorched boulder. He took off the pair of glasses that had lost one temple, coughed violently to expel the water from his lungs, then, with shaking hands, dug a bottle of brandy from his waterproof pouch and downed a gulp.

The spicy liquid slid down his throat into his stomach, and the warmth it brought finally restored some color to his pale face.

Evelyn lay sprawled on the rocky bank in an undignified star shape. Her Tesla Coil Glove, which had released over a million volts of high-voltage electricity, now emitted thin wisps of smoke as it lay discarded; the overload had charred and curled the leather surface.

Nadia was in the best condition among them. The Dayak hunter crouched at the water's edge, eyes alertly scanning the surroundings while she regarded the giant serpent's corpse with reverent eyes.To her tribe, this was not only the death of an enemy but also an end to some Old God era.

Lin Jie walked to the edge of the bank alone, crouched, and plunged his tightly clenched left hand into the flowing water.

The icy river washed the metal fragment in his palm, stained with stomach acid, mucus, and dried blood.

As the grime was slowly rinsed away, the object finally revealed, under the noon sun, the noble and coldly beautiful face it had retained despite years of corrosion.

It was a palm-sized shield insignia fragment.

Its material showed an extremely rare silver-gray with a faint purple tint, cool to the touch and possessing a ceramic-like fine texture.

Even after soaking in the Nabau's rock-digesting acidic stomach for who knew how long, its surface bore not a speck of rust.

Lin Jie used his thumb to gently stroke the embossed front of the insignia.

The craftsmanship was breathtaking.

Even under a microscope, it would be hard to carve such intricate, delicate lines.

The main motif was a large round table.

Around the table were twelve long swords, each of a different style, and at the center of the table was the outline of a chalice bathed in a kind of sacred light.

This was a symbol universally known in Western civilization history.

At the very bottom of the insignia, at the table's base, a line of worn Old English calligraphy was inscribed.

Despite some wear, Lin Jie still recognized the name.

"Gawain."

Gawain.

One of the core members of the Round Table in Arthurian legend, a noble presence called the "Prince on White" and the "Knight of the Sun."

But this clearly was not a medieval antique.

Because hidden beside the name, almost imperceptible, was a miniature serial number sequence: "No.4."

This was an extremely modern, militarized-style numbering system.

"Julian."

Lin Jie stood and walked over to the scholar, holding the insignia.

"Take a look at this."

Julian, wiping his glasses, looked up with puzzlement. When his gaze fell on the purple-silver sheen of the insignia in Lin Jie's hand, his already unfocused eyes bulged wide; he didn't even notice his glasses falling to the ground.

"This... this is..."

Julian sprang up as if seeing a ghost and grabbed the insignia from Lin Jie in a hurry.

He tossed manners aside, pulled the magnifying glass he always carried from his pocket, and bent over the stone to examine the insignia's patterns and inscription.

A few minutes later, the Frenchman who had always kept his scholarly composure raised his head. His face was pale, and his lips trembled uncontrollably.

"Where did you find it?" Julian's voice was frighteningly hoarse. "In the snake's belly?"

"Yes." Lin Jie nodded. "It was lodged in an ulcer on the stomach wall. Seems like it had been there a very long time."

"That explains it... that explains why..." Julian muttered to himself, his eyes filled with shock and incredulous fear. "This is the missing 'key,' and also the erased 'ghost.'"

"What do you mean?" Evelyn came over, curious as she looked at the unremarkable metal fragment.

"You know I.A.R.C.'s full name is the International Anomaly Research and Containment." Julian took a deep breath, as if trying to steady himself. "But do you know what it used to be?"

"Some royal society? Or an explorers' club?" Evelyn guessed.

"No." Julian shook his head, his fingers lightly tracing the round table on the insignia.

"Before 1830—that is, before the association officially formed and set its capital in Geneva—this organization’s predecessor was an even more secretive, and much older, knightly order."

"They called themselves the New Round Table Knights."

"There were twelve founding members back then. They didn't use their real names; each inherited a codename from the ancient Round Table legends."

Julian pointed to the "Gawain" on the insignia.

"For example, this one: the knight codenamed 'Gawain.'"

"According to the association's internal files, classified and incomplete, 'Gawain' was the strongest warrior among the twelve and the bearer of the 'Sun Emblem.' He was responsible for exploration and containment missions in the Far East region."

"But the meaning behind this insignia is much more than a codename."

Julian flipped the insignia and revealed a line of deep-red lettering on the back, blurred by stomach acid but still discernible.

Those letters weren't merely etched.

They'd been forged by a special alchemical method that had embedded blood directly into the metal's molecular structure, forming an indelible, blood-colored brand.

Julian narrowed his eyes and read the Latin.

"Tradidimus sacramentum, in infernum perpetuum cademus."

He whispered the phrase.

"What does it translate to?" Nadia stood with her blade in her arms, unable to understand Latin but sensing the heavy, ominous power within the words.

"It means..." Julian's voice trembled. "We betrayed the covenant. We shall fall into hell forever."

A damp river breeze blew, stirring a few withered leaves.

"Betrayal." Lin Jie repeated the word, his gaze growing deep and sharp. "Who betrayed whom?"

"This remains a taboo topic even within the association." Julian gave a bitter laugh, taking off his glasses and wiping them with his sleeve. "It was a bloody internal war, or rather... a purge, at the end of the 1830s."

"Within the New Round Table Knights there was a fundamental split over how to handle UMA and occult knowledge."

"One faction, led by Gawain and another thinker known as Merlin, were idealists. They believed inner world knowledge should be disclosed in an orderly way so ordinary people could gain the power to fight monsters, ultimately achieving integration and peace between the inner and outer worlds."

"The other faction, the Council faction that later seized power, represented the interests of royal houses, mega-capitalists, and old nobility."

"They believed knowledge equals power, equals wealth. The inner world must be strictly sealed; UMA can only be exploited as resources by a tiny elite."

Julian paused and glanced toward the massive serpent corpse.

"History is written by the victors."

"The I.A.R.C. manual we see today frames it as a necessary reform to prevent global chaos. The radical idealists were portrayed as madmen and heretics."

"The result of that civil war was the total defeat of the Round Table faction. Some died in battle, some disappeared, some were imprisoned."

"And this insignia..."

Julian held the metal fragment up. In the sunlight the blood-lettering glared painfully.

"The appearance of this insignia here, in this serpent's belly, reveals a terrible fact."

"The founding member codenamed Gawain did not, as the files claim, 'disappear in a storm at sea.'"

"He came to Borneo."

"Perhaps to escape assassination, perhaps to seek some power that could turn the tide."

"But he ultimately died here—died in this snake's maw."

"And judging by this blood inscription..." Julian's finger traced the lettering, "he believed, right before death, that he had betrayed some higher oath, or... he felt he had failed his comrades' trust."

Lin Jie fell silent.

He looked at the cold metal, and the image that surfaced in his mind was the mysterious figure that always appeared in Karl's journals and had guided him onto the hunter's path.

If Gawain had been the martial core of the Round Table back then,

then what code would the strategist—the man who was Karl's mentor and mastermind—have used?

The answer seemed to call itself.

Merlin.

The legendary sage who advised Arthur, versed in nature and magic, who ultimately chose self-exile.

Everything connected.

Why had Karl been dragged into such a convoluted vortex over what appeared to be a simple rescue? Why had that mysterious mentor been scrubbed from I.A.R.C. history? Why had the Black Lotus established a base here?

Perhaps Yan Xilou's occupation of this Eden wasn't only for biological resources.

More likely, he was excavating a legacy.

Digging up the core heritage once left here by the Gawain knight who died in this place.

"It looks like the nature of our mission has changed."

Lin Jie took the insignia back from Julian and carefully placed it into his inner pocket.

"We're not just fighting an Eastern cult."

"We're digging up a grave buried beneath the association's foundations."

"If this thing gets taken back to London or Geneva, do you know what will happen?" Lin Jie looked at Julian.

"It will be destroyed." Julian replied without hesitation. "And we'll be silenced, or committed to an asylum under the pretext of mental contamination."

"The current council members will never allow this 'betrayal' history to see the light of day."

"So this is our amulet and our death warrant."

Lin Jie patted his pocket.

"Keep this secret. Apart from the four of us, no one can know."

He turned toward the deep rainforest still shrouded in mist.

"Let's go."

Lin Jie straightened the collar of his Black Mercury coat.

The team set off again.

This time the atmosphere was heavier.

Nadia took the lead. She didn't care about Round Table knights or association history.

For her, as long as the Black Ghosts were wiped out and her ancestors' land reclaimed, that was enough.

But for Lin Jie,

the appearance of this insignia altered his understanding of the I.A.R.C. behemoth.

Past the rubble-strewn bank lay a denser secondary forest.

Vegetation towered unnaturally high here; many trunks were wound with parasitic vines as thick as wrists.

An unsettling fluctuation in the air grew stronger.

It wasn't the single pressure of the Nabau's gravity manipulation.

It was a more chaotic, more violent composite energy field.

"People ahead."

Nadia suddenly stopped. She crouched behind a cluster of giant ferns, pointing to a clearing not far ahead.

"And... many of them."

Lin Jie immediately activated the sonar mode of the Cursebreaker Vambrace.

The feedback showed a dozen or so dynamic points in that forward area.

Those dots were moving, weaving, and encircling at high speed.

"Black Lotus elites." Lin Jie assessed.

"They found the dead serpent—probably their rapid-response unit."

"Blood Droppers." Nadia spat the name low, a word that made every Dayak in hearing tremble.

"They're the scariest killers among the Black Ghosts. They don't use guns. They use flying skull harvester devices."

"And they excel at fighting in trees, agile as monkeys."

A cold smile tugged at Lin Jie's mouth.

If this was special forces versus special forces,

let's see whether their ancient assassination weapons are truly fearsome,

or whether a modernly improved 'Scalpel' is sharper.

"Prepare to fight."

Lin Jie drew his Silencer, its blade already stained with mythological creature blood.

"This is the jungle."

"And it's our home field."