Victor was a historian, and ever since he was a child, he had always been fascinated by ancient Greece. The stories of the gods, the epic battles, and the myths that spoke of a distant past had captivated him more than anything else. That was why, as he grew, he chose the path of archaeology, dedicating his life to chasing the secrets hidden beneath the stones and ruins of lost civilizations. After ten years of hard work, he had become one of the most respected and well-known figures in the world of archaeologists, so much so that when a supposedly ancient tomb was discovered beneath the Acropolis in Athens, he was the first to be contacted.
He did not hesitate for a single moment. In less than two hours, he left the site he had been studying in Italy, caught a direct flight, and, once in Athens, reached the discovery site in just fifteen minutes. The tomb had been revealed almost by accident: a curious tourist had touched a wall that, inexplicably, reacted by activating a hidden mechanism. A wall of rock had lifted, revealing a passage sealed since time immemorial. The authorities, fearful that further mishaps might occur, had immediately evacuated the civilians, leaving the site isolated. When Victor arrived, he was equipped with the most advanced technology available and given permission to be the first to explore.
As soon as he stepped through the entrance, a shiver ran down his spine. The air was surprisingly pure, far fresher and more breathable than it should have been in a place sealed for centuries—if not millennia. For a moment, he wondered how it was possible but chose to ignore the feeling. After all, the passage seemed to descend very deeply, and perhaps there was some hidden crack that allowed air circulation.
He advanced into the darkness for ten long minutes without encountering anything but damp rock walls, illuminated only by his torch. Then, finally, something changed: before him stood an iron door set into the stone, so perfectly fused with the surrounding cave that it seemed natural. As he approached, he noticed that it was freezing to the touch and that its entire surface was covered in ideograms. They were not Greek, not Egyptian, and yet vaguely reminded him of the earliest Minoan script, older even than Linear A.
With the utmost caution, he pushed the door. To his surprise, it opened without resistance: the mechanisms that had once sealed it must have long since deteriorated. Beyond that threshold, the landscape changed radically. No longer a crude cavern, but a decorated corridor, with carved symbols and walls shaped with a precision impossible to attribute to any archaic era.
Victor was left breathless. On each side of the corridor, about three meters wide, were plots of cultivated soil, as if once used to grow plants. The first hypothesis—that this was a tomb—suddenly seemed wrong. The decorations, the soil, the architecture… everything suggested an ancient temple, perhaps dedicated to the god of the underworld, Hades, given the depth and subterranean nature of the place.
He continued walking, noticing that the floor sloped downward. With each step, he descended deeper into the bowels of the earth. After about fifty meters, he reached a second door, much more imposing than the first. It was not made of common iron: it was clad with precious metals and inset with stones, and the carvings covering it were even more enigmatic. Opening it alone would have been impossible, so he immediately sent a message to his colleagues outside.
Minutes later, they joined him, bringing tools and equipment. All stood silent before that door. It was no mere artifact: it was a work that surpassed any known culture, emanating a solemnity that inspired both awe and fear. The archaeologists set to work with extreme caution, wary of damaging a mechanism they could not understand. The silence of the cave was broken only by the sound of tools and restrained breathing.
When at last the door moved, it did so with a deep groan, slowly opening its two halves as if it were a living being awakening from an eternal slumber. A golden radiance burst from within, illuminating the entire corridor. Victor's skin tingled, pierced by an invisible current that did not bring pain but a strange sensation of energy, mystery, and power.
Beyond the threshold was no simple burial chamber. An immense hall opened, so vast that its walls vanished into shadow. Every block of stone had been carved with absolute perfection, and the decorations belonged to no known civilization. They were signs of a language forgotten for millennia.
At the center, seated on a throne of stone, was a figure. It did not look like a mummy or a corpse: the body was intact, as though suspended in time. Pale skin, black hair falling to the shoulders, eyes closed in eternal sleep. Around the throne, concentric circles etched into the floor glowed faintly, as if they were breathing.
Victor approached, holding his breath. He did not feel as though he stood before a dead body but rather someone who, in some way, was still alive. And in that instant, his mind was invaded by a voice. It was not a sound, not air vibrating: it was a thought that slid directly into his spirit.
"You have entered my seal."
Victor stiffened. The figure slowly opened its eyes, revealing pupils burning like embers. The lips did not move, and yet the voice continued to fill the hall.
"I am the one once called the Supreme of Alchemy."
The words resonated in his mind, bringing with them images, visions, memories not his own. He saw cities of light rising to the skies, saw men flying among the stars, saw rivers of energy flowing from the Earth's core and sustaining an entire civilization.
Long ago, the Earth had been different. From its core had sprung a spiritual energy, invisible yet omnipresent, capable of making men stronger, longer-lived, wiser. From it was born a civilization so powerful it seemed divine: their temples shone like stars, their ships sailed not only the seas but also space. They had ruled not only the planet but much of the galaxy.
Then, suddenly, the energy ceased. Without it, the mighty weakened, the cities fell, the temples were abandoned. Many fled, seeking elsewhere that same vital force. Only a few remained: the body cultivators, men and women who had refined spiritual arts tied to flesh and blood, able to survive even without energy. Remaining on Earth together with the Supreme of Alchemy, they were worshipped as gods by the generations that followed.
Victor saw these images stream into his mind, saw the cultivators rise as guardians, worshipped and feared, keepers of an age the world had long forgotten.
The Supreme gazed at him with burning eyes.
"My life ended millennia ago, yet my spirit remained, bound to this throne. I guarded the secrets of alchemy, I watched over this world, awaiting the moment when I could pass on what I know."
Victor trembled, unable to tell whether he was dreaming or living an impossible reality. His head pulsed as if he were experiencing a thousand lives at once. Every image, every memory transmitted by the Supreme of Alchemy seemed to carve itself into his bones, etching knowledge no mortal had ever held. It was no mere memory; it was an inheritance.
The voice continued to vibrate in his mind:
"Our civilization was born of the Earth's spiritual energy, but when it vanished, I remained. Not because I was stronger than the others, but because I had found something no one else had seen: a seed of eternity hidden beyond a black hole, a resource capable of opening worlds. I could have used it to escape, but I did not. For the prophecy said that a chosen one would come, and to him would fall the task of saving the multiverse itself."
Victor shivered, but the Supreme did not speak to him as the chosen one. His voice was filled with regret, with the weight of endless waiting now dissolving.
"I waited. I sealed myself here. I made this hall a prison and a refuge, and wrapped my soul within the throne. Centuries passed, generations died, but I remained. I should have met the chosen one two thousand years from now, and instead you came—too soon. By opening the door, you broke the seal, and with it, the thread of destiny."
Victor wanted to ask what it all meant, but he could not speak: the voice filled his mind, drowning out all thought. The Supreme lowered his eyelids, and a shadow of sorrow crossed his fiery eyes.
"The prophesied one will no longer find my soul. I cannot survive without spiritual energy much longer. The multiverse has lost its guardian."
The words were not an accusation but a lament. Then, slowly, something changed. The air in the hall began to vibrate, and before Victor appeared an object suspended in the void. It was an enormous book, bound in dark leather, its golden edges glowing like distant stars. Each page seemed made of light, yet its substance was real, heavy, tangible.
"This is the greatest treasure of my civilization," the voice said. "They call it the Book of Babylon. In it are gathered the secrets of forgotten alchemies, of spiritual arts, of worlds that men no longer remember. It is the compendium of our knowledge, the flame that must not be extinguished."
The book floated slowly to rest before Victor, who took it with trembling hands. At the mere touch, he felt a wave of heat sweep through him, as though thousands of voices had awakened within. His heart pounded wildly.
The Supreme continued:
"I will transfer to you my memories, my alchemical knowledge, so that you may have a solid foundation in the world that awaits you. It will not be a gift, but a burden. For to know alchemy is to carry upon one's shoulders the weight of creation and destruction."
Victor staggered as a torrent of knowledge poured into his mind. He saw formulas, alchemical circles, potions that healed any wound, substances that could mutate flesh or create immortal metals. He heard words in languages he had never known, yet now understood. He saw how to shape life and how to extinguish it.
The pain was immense. Each memory was a dagger piercing his skull, but along with the pain came comprehension. It was not human knowledge—it was the wisdom of millennia condensed into moments.
The Supreme watched him, unmoving upon the throne. And within himself, hidden deep within his millennial soul, he reflected:
"You are not the chosen one. You are not the one destined to save the multiverse. But perhaps… you could walk his path. Perhaps your existence is no accident, perhaps you came here to open a new way."
He said none of this to Victor. He could not. He would not burden that fragile mortal with a destiny that was not his. But deep within, the Supreme knew nothing else remained.
Slowly, his body began to dissolve. The embers in his eyes dimmed, his form became transparent, stardust dispersing into the air. With his last thread of consciousness, he sent one thought to Victor:
"Carry with you the Book of Babylon. Guard alchemy. Survive the world that awaits."
At that moment, behind Victor, a rift of light opened. It was no natural opening: it seemed a living portal, pulsing with energy like a cosmic heart. The air was sucked toward it, the hall trembled, the walls vibrated as if they were singing.
Victor had no time to resist. The portal enveloped him with the force of a vortex, dragging him into a spiral of shadow and radiance. He still clutched the Book of Babylon, and within his body burned the alchemical knowledge just bestowed.
The last image he saw, before being swallowed by the void, was the empty throne and the hall collapsing. The Supreme of Alchemy was no more. Only his legacy remained.
When Victor opened his eyes again, he was no longer in Athens. The sky above him was a color he had never seen, and the ground beneath was alive, pulsating, coursed through by currents of energy that did not belong to the Earth he knew. Around him stretched an immense forest, alive with strange sounds, with creatures belonging to no myth ever told.
His heart pounded in his chest. The book was still in his hands. And within him, the knowledge of the Supreme of Alchemy waited to be understood, tested, used.
Victor did not know that, with that portal, he had crossed not only space. He had crossed the boundary of worlds, stepping into a destiny that had never been written for him.
And as he took his first steps into that unknown world, without knowing who he truly was or what awaited him, only one certainty burned in his chest: his new life had just begun.