I Am In~

"Hiss~, my head hurts so much, it feels like I was run over by a tire on the road..."

Under the flickering candlelight, a person covered in dried blood sat up amidst a pile of mirror shards, falling into silence as he looked at the strange yet inexplicably familiar room.

"This... since when did my home become so dilapidated?"

"Hiss~"

As soon as he finished speaking, a sudden, sharp pain struck his head. Fragments of memories flooded into his mind, so painful that he nearly collapsed back onto the floor.

Cyrin Gray... a student at Backlund University in the history department, one month away from graduation... a member of the World Truth Society... a believer in the God of Steam and Machinery... a mysticism enthusiast who dreamed of becoming a great artist.

His family background was quite decent, with open-minded parents, a younger twin brother with exceptional talent, and an older sister who was already married.

"Wait... Backlund University? Backlund! That Backlund in Loen? The disaster-prone Backlund?"

"And the faith in the God of Steam and Machinery, that settles it. This is the Lord of the Mysteries world, ranked in the top three most unfriendly worlds for transmigrators."

"Does it have to be this ridiculous? I'm a loyal reader, I never trashed or slandered it, so why did I suddenly transmigrate here?"

"My young, handsome, and wealthy life... and more importantly, I just graduated and was about to start enjoying it."

The young man sitting on the floor suddenly stopped complaining. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, and the dried blood on his face began to flow again. In the span of a single breath, he had turned into a bright red blood-man.

He was completely unaware of this, his eyes hollow and numb as he gazed at the ceiling, his pupils eerily reflecting a constantly twisting and changing starry sky.

He saw an eye, an eye overlooking the mortal world!

It, no, He was watching him, watching him with anger, confusion, and greed. He wanted to devour him.

An inexplicable fear caused the "blood-man" to suddenly snap back to his senses. He stiffly withdrew his gaze, not daring to look up again, but this could not stop the gaze cast by the "eye overlooking the mortal world." He and He were still staring at each other.

No, this can't go on. Call for help, I must call for help, call for help from the gods of this world.

The thought of calling for help had barely flashed through his mind when his body instinctively tapped his chest three times, chanting a familiar honorific:

"Great God of Steam and Machinery, You are the embodiment of essence, You are the protector of artisans, You are the radiance of technology."

"Great God of Steam and Machinery..."

After repeating it twice, he finally suppressed the instinct of this body to pray to its own faith and began to chant the honorifics of other great existences:

"The Fool that doesn't belong to this era, the mysterious ruler above the gray fog, the King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck."

"The Goddess of Night who is more noble than the starry sky and more ancient than eternity, You are the Lord of the Crimson, the Mother of Concealment, You are the Empress of Misfortune and Terror, the Lord of Sleep and Silence."

"Adam!"

"I am here."

The air suddenly became quiet, and all the visions disappeared—the eye overlooking the mortal world, the abstract and twisting starry sky, the boiling voices in his mind, and the knowledge that wanted to burst out of his head.

The bloodstains on the "blood-man" suddenly vanished, revealing a somewhat youthful and handsome face beneath. His eyes also returned to clarity, becoming calm and peaceful, as if he had received a baptism of the soul.

He turned around, feeling somewhat relaxed yet vigilant, and nodded to the blond priest with a warm smile behind him:

"Good evening, Mr. Adam."

Wearing a simple white robe, with thick, light-gold whiskers covering the lower half of his face, and golden eyes as clear and pure as a baby's, the priest smiled and nodded gently at him, his tone so gentle that it was impossible to harbor any hostility or vigilance:

"Good evening, Mr. Cyrin, or should I say, Mr. Li En?"

The "blood-man," now returned to calm, was silent for a moment before letting out a long breath:

"Just call me Cyrin. Although Li En is not equal to Cyrin, in this world, I am him."

"A reasonable choice." The blond priest smiled and nodded, then his tone suddenly turned serious:

"How do you view this world?"

"A book, a story, a magnificent and grand theatrical performance, or a low-dimensional, peculiar world filled with despair?"

Cyrin kept organizing appropriate wording in his heart, but upon seeing those golden eyes as clear and pure as a baby's, he suddenly gave up.

He did not want to lie in front of the other party; he should not deceive a benefactor who had just saved him, even if the answer to this question might very well determine his future fate.

After a brief struggle, the little white figure of honesty on his head kicked the black figure of selfishness away.

Then, he calmed down entirely and answered with a firm and earnest tone:

"To the me before today, this was a wonderful story. To the me now, this should be a real world, a transmigration that is neither beautiful nor exciting."

"To the me of the future, it will probably be a long journey to find the way home. Well, if I can survive in this world surrounded by evil gods and outer deities."

Adam nodded gently at him, the warm smile on his face unchanged, his tone still calm and gentle:

"You possess an essence higher than this world, a soul essence that approaches or even exceeds that of the Old Ones. As long as the barrier left by the Original Creator does not shatter, it will not be difficult for you to live in this world."

"Your essence determines that you can ignore the pollution brought by most of the mysticism in this world. You also have a warm and harmonious family, which can ensure your normal life."

After hearing Adam's words, Cyrin gave a wry smile: "So, what I just encountered was that tiny fraction?"

Adam nodded slightly: "You are a high-dimensional visitor. You shook His Old One essence, and you brought Him an opportunity to go further."

Cyrin was stunned for a moment. He suddenly thought of a topic he had seen before: they, the readers, were "High-Dimensional Overseers" to the world described in this novel.

So, am I now a High-Dimensional Overseer without power or authority?

He thought again of the eye he had seen earlier, the one overlooking the mortal world, and fragments of information seemed to be drawn to it, popping into his mind of their own accord.

"High-Dimensional Overseer, Lord of Dimensions, the source of all Fantasy..."

"Stop."

A voice of immense majesty and oppression cut off his murmurs, and Cyril, snapping back to reality, looked at Adam, who was watching him with a grim expression.

"Thank you again for your help, Mr. Adam."

Adam nodded, his expression unchanging, and then explained: "Due to the nature of symbolism and essence, your connection to Him is extremely tight. Even with the barrier left by the Original Creator standing between you, a connection can still be established if both parties consent."

But I didn't consent... Although he really wanted to retort, as a loyal reader of Lord of the Mysteries, Cyril understood that at the level of a Great Old One, even just thinking about them in one's mind allowed the other party to see or hear it.

Looking at Adam, whose expression had remained unchanged from beginning to end, Cyril hesitated for a moment before asking:

"Mr. Adam, what should I do?"

Adam answered in a gentle voice: "Become as strong as possible before the barrier left by the Original Creator shatters. There can only be one High-Dimensional Overseer in this universe; your meeting and collision can only be delayed, not avoided."

Cyril: (⊙_⊙;)

Although I haven't finished the second book yet, I roughly know that the cracked barrier above our heads won't even last until the predicted time of the apocalypse.

Besides, I'm not Klein. Becoming a god in three years and a Great Old One in ten—I can't do that.