All Acquaintances

"The main body gave you a return gift, but I can't just let it go at that." He thought for a moment, then finally pulled out a stone slab.

"I don't have the main body's power, but for now, this thing is under my authority."

"I don't know how you came to know of the Sequences, but I can let you see the true Sequences."

Sasrir was quite generous—in this bizarre world, knowledge was nearly equivalent to power.

And this was an era where Sequences had yet to spread; such knowledge was all the more precious.

"Just so happens, I need this knowledge." Truman didn't refuse. This knowledge was of limited use to him, after all, since he couldn't walk the Sequence pathways. The Ancient Sun God was likely aware of this too, which was why Sasrir could bring the Blasphemy Slate before him.

"This is also part of the plan." Sasrir said, and Truman gave a slight nod.

Perhaps Sasrir meant it as repayment to him, but it also tied into this collaboration.

For instance, the Star and Moon and their neighboring pathways.

This was the Sun faction's bargaining chip to win over the other two factions.

"Oh..." Truman seemed to think of something, looked at Hermes, sensed the boundless longing in his heart, and nodded lightly. "See as much as you can; that's up to you."

"Thank you, two Angels!" Hermes bowed deeply at ninety degrees, nearly dropping to his knees before them. Truman grabbed another clump of Dream Phosphor and stuffed it into Sasrir's hand.

Sasrir blinked, nodded lightly, and didn't mind.

"Let's begin." Sasrir fully opened the Blasphemy Slate. The hazy shadows dispersed, revealing a gray-white stone slab.

It was mottled and ancient, weathered by the passage of time, inscribed with a peculiar script that could be understood at a glance.

"Sun Pathway: Sequence 9, Praiser..."

Clad in the Robe of the Sage, Truman's ability to record knowledge reached a terrifying level. He deciphered the entire Blasphemy Slate without any strain.

"Sequence 0..." This was one of the rare things that made Truman take it seriously.

"Speaking of which, I could actually create Cards of Blasphemy now!"

A strange thought rose in Truman's mind, but he quickly shook his head. He wasn't that emperor who could even lay hands on a witch; better not steal the spotlight.

He looked up and saw Hermes still immersed in deciphering, utterly entranced.

"Enough." At a certain moment, a thick shadow once again shrouded the Blasphemy Slate as Sasrir put it away.

"Hah!" Hermes snapped back to reality and bowed again to thank Sasrir and Truman.

"A complete Divine Pathway, along with other Sequence pathways that can reach the demigod level." Hermes, after all, wasn't Truman; he couldn't decipher all the information in such a short time.

So he made a choice, obtaining the complete pathway he belonged to, along with knowledge of Sequence 4 and below from other pathways.

"The spread of knowledge should be handled with care." Truman said to Hermes, a hint of admonishment in his tone.

"Yes!" Hermes shook off the shock of being flooded with vast mystical knowledge.

"I, Hermes, swear to follow Angel Sir unto death! Human history will forever engrave the honored name of Angel Sir!"

Hermes dropped to one knee directly, bowing his head to Truman in submission.

No longer a virtual persona, but the true Hermes.

Truman was taken aback for a moment, then smiled and nodded. "You may also call me Dream."

"Yes!" Hermes firmly committed that name to memory.

"Go now. Your knowledge is enough for humanity to truly gain the power to protect itself." Truman said. Hermes was an excellent follower, but at this moment, he should return to the human city-states.

Truman directly used the Gloves of the Ancient to send Hermes back to the place where they first met.

"Sorry, I might have disrupted your plans." Truman said to Sasrir.

This knowledge was the Sun God's best means of gathering human followers.

"This is the reward you deserved." Sasrir didn't mind. "The God's divine might is enough to make all humanity believe."

That Hermes could obtain such a vast amount of mystical knowledge was naturally thanks to Truman. As he said, Truman's honored name would surely be engraved in the history of human mysticism, and countless humans would become anchors of divinity for Truman.

"But your abilities are very similar to a Miracle Invoker's." Sasrir glanced at the Gloves of the Ancient, then swept his gaze over the Book of Dreams. "Whether it's fate or wishes."

So, they suspected he had some connection to that Lord of the Mysteries... Truman realized.

The Ancient Sun God could certainly see the discord in Ouroboros's fate, deduce the function of the Book of Dreams, and inevitably think of the Beacon of Destiny.

But Truman knew it had nothing to do with that. He didn't deny it, just smiled.

"How about taking me to tour your divine kingdom?" Truman was quite looking forward to the Sun God's divine kingdom, and there was a good chance he'd see some familiar faces there.

Sasrir gladly agreed—hosting a guest while taking a break from work.

"Yo, Sasrir, who's this? Got almost as much charm as me!" They hadn't taken more than a few steps when they saw a knight with red hair, clad in black armor, walking toward them.

He was young and handsome, his demeanor as wild as his fiery red hair.

"Medici!" Sasrir snapped. "He's a guest."

"A guest?" Medici raised an eyebrow and shot Truman a provocative look that made one want to punch him in the face.

"Your performance is very convincing." Truman could even sense a kind of provocation on a mystical level. If two Sequence 2 Angels stood before him, the red one would definitely be the first target.

"That's not a performance—He... is naturally like this." Sasrir said helplessly.

Medici's expression shifted slightly, as he could tell from Sasrir's attitude how much importance he placed on Truman.

This piqued his curiosity.

He was about to say more, but was interrupted by a terrifying storm.

It was a thunder of apocalyptic horror, silver-white, turning even the sky above the three of them into another world.

"Medici, stop right there!" A voice like a giant's roar rang out, and a human-shaped calamity wreathed in wind and lightning appeared at the horizon. In his fury, his deep blue hair whipped wildly.

"Here you are, brother." Medici didn't flee, but instead sidled closer to Sasrir, forcing Sasrir to raise a hand and block the thunder.

After all, he couldn't let a guest get struck by lightning, could he?

"Leodero, you have offended an important guest of Heaven! As punishment, you shall sing a song to soothe the guest's anger!"

"You!" The tall, rugged Leodero's face twisted, teeth grinding, and even Sasrir's expression twitched.

"I believe this is innate," Truman remarked. Hearing that roar just now, he could already judge what level of Sea God Singer Leodero was—one opening of the mouth would be devastating.

And the reason Medici hadn't been beaten to death was entirely because he was strong enough and backed by the Ancient Sun God.