Miss Hebe is Breaking Out of the Lostbelt!

"So, what exactly do you think? Report it to me without concealment."

Ozymandias's voice was calm. He seemed to have restrained all outward signs of brutality and killing intent, yet the invisible pressure only grew heavier.

Hebe pulled herself together. This was the moment when not even the slightest carelessness could be tolerated.

But how could she satisfy Ozymandias—by speaking at length about her understanding of the other mysteries? Or by making some risky declaration to catch Ozymandias's attention?

Neither would do.

Those mysteries had originally arisen from Ozymandias's different facets.

As for putting on an air of mystery, that was the worst possible choice. The Red King would never permit such clownish tricks to appear before him.

Yet Hebe was not flustered in the least, because she already had a complete plan—a secret that the Red King could never know, no matter how he calculated.

Her dark green eyes rose, meeting the God King's gaze without fear.

"Beyond the Nine Pillar Gods, there are still beings of equal standing to them."

What answered her was a roar like thunder.

"—Speak!"

Before Hebe had taken the name Merlin and become the Court Sorcerer under King Arthur, there had been a brief, carefree period. In those days, she traveled between the wasteland and the present world, leaving behind many famed tales of the nightmares.

Nightmares had no fixed form. They loved gossip and often took the shape of birds to fly across different borders.

Thus, Hebe had heard rumors about the gods of the wasteland—the gods known as the "Temporal Axis Regents."

The nightmares said that even the regents who governed the months would see their numbers change over the course of long history.

In the Lostbelt The Rose War, there were eleven regents.

In present-day Albion, all twelve seats were filled, with each month having its own guardian deity.

But at this moment... there were only nine regents.

Hebe knew the honored names of those three regents.

What would happen if she spoke the names of those future regents now?

"The first is Raven."

The first name left Hebe's lips.

They were the guardian deity of March, a young regent still unknown to the world during The Rose War.

The surroundings abruptly fell utterly silent. Hebe's voice, the sound of the metallic solar disc turning—everything fell silent, without a single extraneous sound.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Her heartbeat grew increasingly violent. Hebe looked up and discovered that the brilliant light did not come from Ozymandias, but from the loftier skies above the Red King.

Mercury was blazing with light, eclipsing the sun!

Mercury was Raven's symbol.

The instant Hebe spoke that honored name, Heaven and Earth fell silent for roughly half an hour. Then, both Hebe and the Red King realized that some kind of change was taking place.

A new variable had appeared in the world.

A new Pillar God, independent of the Nine Pillar Gods, had arrived from the future.

"What comes next? There must be other divine names! Speak!!!"

The machine god that ruled eternity let out a furious roar, and the halo that resembled both an eye and a blazing sun lit up.

Hebe lowered her eyes.

"Forgive me, but I refuse." Hebe spoke evenly. Raising her hand, she pointed at Mercury, shining brilliantly in the heavens.

"They are watching."

That one sentence plunged the nearly enraged Ozymandias into thought.

Then, she heard Ozymandias's deep voice roll toward her from the front.

"Imhotep, I now know the full extent of thy merit."

"None but thee shall serve as my scribe."

"—Bow thy head. I shall crown thee."

Hebe hesitated for a moment before cautiously lowering her head.

It was impossible not to be nervous. Yet she knew that Ozymandias would certainly seek greater achievements in his pursuit of godhood, and before then, he would not—and would not dare to—do anything to her.

The Red King believed he had tamed Hebe, but had Hebe not tamed him as well?

Thus, the roar of the Eternal Matrix gradually subsided.

Within Hebe's pitch-black field of vision, metallic specks of light gradually appeared, forming words.

You have accepted the investiture of Crimson Crown King Ozymandias.

You have accepted the authority of King of Ibis, Scribe of Scribes.

You have accepted the authority of Hermanubis, Wisest of the Wise.

King of Rams waited silently outside the pyramid, his heart utterly calm.

He despised those who fought over power and profit, and he despised even more the scum who, upon becoming one of the Nine Sages, believed they could do whatever they pleased—they were unworthy of those glorious seats.

In the end, the Nine Sages' rights and responsibilities were inextricably linked. Their fate was to defy destiny alongside His Majesty the Red King, to serve as the King's vanguard. Even burning themselves away for that cause was only fitting.

Yet few realized this. They were either deceived by their lust for power, or believed they could enjoy that power forever.

King of Rams had seen many colleagues come and go. At first, they had been brimming with confidence, but once they learned the truth, their minds collapsed and their temperaments changed completely.

But this girl, who had dared defy the King's decree, was different.

King of Rams recalled those beautiful eyes, like green gemstones, and let out a long sigh.

There had been no expectation in those eyes, no delight, no excitement—only weariness. It was the feeling of someone who had learned every fate and understood every future, yet still walked this path alone.

"...You already know it cannot be done, yet you still insist on doing it?"

It was a familiar feeling, so familiar it left him speechless. He had felt that same "weariness" many times in Ozymandias's presence, and he himself was no different.

In other words, from the moment he saw Hebe, King of Rams had known that she was one of his kind.

In her, King of Rams seemed to see the King of Crocodiles, with whom he had once clashed, but who had ultimately submitted to the Red King together with him.

Tap, tap, tap.

Crisp footsteps came from the pyramid's passageway, and King of Rams turned to look.

The girl's flaxen hair was tied into a ponytail behind her head. Ancient Papyrus Scrolls were wrapped around her plain robe, and a pair of jackal-like ears stood tall atop her head—the symbol of Hermanubis's authority.

Between those ears, a golden halo like the rising sun spun lightly.

As the girl passed, lush green blades of grass even sprouted from the cracks in the Imperial Road.

The grass swayed, stretching longer and taller with all its might, as though trying to draw close to her.

After more than a hundred and fifty years, the Scribe of the Heavens had finally returned to her rightful place.

What was more, no one before her had ever borne the dual authorities of Thoth and Hermanubis. King of Rams held his breath in reverence and lowered himself, wishing to get a proper look at the girl.

"So... she truly bears dual authorities."

King of Rams lowered his gaze. Great drops of tears, as scorching as molten brass, began to fall from his fiercely burning eyes.

He prostrated himself reverently and extended his long arms.

His voice remained steady. "Please sit upon my shoulder, Lord Imhotep."

The girl before him tilted her head in surprise.

"...I'm afraid that would be improper, Lord Khnum."

"Nothing is improper, because His Majesty Ozymandias is the greatest 'rule.'" King of Rams replied. "Those favored by His Majesty deserve the greatest honor."

There seemed to be a hidden meaning in King of Rams's words, so Hebe no longer refused.

For Hebe, this was a rather novel experience. Clear eyes and an enlightened heart were essential qualities for a sage, but the path she had taken this time was not that of a sage. It was that of a "priest" under Winter's Tenets.

A priest was sparing with words and swift in action.

She felt King of Rams moving forward at a measured pace and could hear exclamations tinged with all manner of emotions coming from around them.

This reverence and admiration offered Hebe little emotional satisfaction. What she cared about more was the impact of having spoken the third Archon's sacred name.

Raven had only become known to the world after The Rose War.

In the modern world, They were regarded as the guardian of March, the patron deity of travelers, journalists, media workers, and commerce.

In the hidden world, They were revered as the deity governing secrets, curses, and rituals.

There was no faith directed toward Raven in this era. Only after she spoke Their sacred name would such faith emerge in this age.

That would require both time and opportunity.

The Archons did not care whether their sacred names were spoken. They were closer to metaphysical laws of nature, foundations of the world's operation, elements that sustained the Wheel of Seasons.

"Ancient Egypt differs from the era of The Rose War. It is far too distant from later generations, and the history books of this world contain only scattered fragments about it..."

"Modern Egypt in later generations and ancient Egypt ruled by the Red King are already entirely different nations. Even the Copts, regarded as the orthodox inheritors of ancient Egypt, received little attention in later ages."

"Egyptian civilization was abruptly severed, like silk torn apart by a pair of scissors."

"Moreover, the history under Red King Ozymandias's rule has long diverged greatly from the history I know... Raven must be quite interested in that as well."

"Yes, this is the true variable." Hebe looked straight ahead, giving no hint of what she was thinking. "Ozymandias will certainly investigate Raven's name next and seek further ascension, while I can calmly do what I wish to do—"

This was an irresistible open scheme. Ozymandias could not refuse such temptation.

Hebe calmly jumped down from King of Rams's shoulder and struck the ground with her staff.

Invisible sound waves spread outward, gathering within Hebe's field of vision and reflecting the scene around her.

This was the Temple of Thoth, a sanctuary where countless priests and scholars studied, cultivated secret teachings, and exchanged knowledge. But it was also the palace of the King of Ibis.

Hebe had come here many times and spent a very, very long time here, yet she had never arrived as its master.

Scholars and priests gathered before her like clouds, offering her the highest respect in the distinct rituals of their various schools.

Among them were some familiar faces from the past.

"Then I shall see you off here, Lord Imhotep."

The King of Rams spoke in a commanding voice. "Beyond this point lies your domain."

"Thank you for accompanying me, Lord Khnum." Hebe gave a slight bow.

The King of Rams nodded faintly. Smoldering flames rose beneath his feet, and his flowing black robes vanished into the fire in an instant, as though he had never come.

With that towering figure gone, the crowd finally dared to sneak glances upward and study the young girl who held two divine seats at once.

"What makes her worthy of inheriting Hermanubis's seat?"

"Not just Hermanubis's—Thoth's too... Hmph, does she think she's the King of Rams? We've been here for decades. We won't obediently listen to her."

These murmurs cascaded down like an avalanche, layer upon layer.

Yet before some of them could entertain even more vicious thoughts, their gazes were drawn uncontrollably to the halo suspended high behind the girl's head.

Their minds instantly became a blur. They felt that radiant light before them pour into their pupils and seep deep into their brains.

The dozen or so priests trembled as they straightened up. The flesh on their faces seemed to be peeled back by a gale, while their eyes struggled free from their sockets and turned into pale yellow moths, fluttering away.

The eyeless priests gaped wide. Their limbs shattered with clattering cracks like broken earthen jars, while the flesh and bones throughout their bodies seemed to have been roasted to ruin, hissing as they scattered and fell away.

Their hearts ran out joyfully like dogs, their stomachs twisted as they crawled out like scorpions, and their intestines slithered out in winding coils like snakes.

The scenes seemed to be nothing more than hypnotic illusions. The priests shuddered violently, one after another turning hazy and fading into the lingering light on the retinas.

The remaining people heard the girl's indifferent voice sound beside their ears.