I'm Here~

"Ugh~, my head's killing me. It feels like a tire ran me over and over..."

Beneath the wavering candlelight, a man with dried blood all over his face sat up amid a heap of shattered mirror fragments. He looked around at the strange room that somehow felt familiar, and fell silent.

"Th-this... When did my house get so run-down?"

"Ugh..."

As soon as the words left his mouth, a sudden stab of pain shot through his head. Shattered fragments of memory flooded his mind, hurting so much he nearly collapsed back onto the floor.

Cyrin Gray... A history student at Backlund University, due to graduate in a month... A member of the World Truth Society... A believer in the God of Steam and Machinery... An occult enthusiast whose dream was to become a great artist.

His family was fairly well-off. He had open-minded parents, a gifted twin brother, and an older sister who was already married.

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

"And a believer in the God of Steam and Machinery? That settles it. This is the world of Lord of the Mysteries, one of the top three most hostile worlds for transmigrators."

"Does it really have to be this ridiculous? I'm a loyal reader. I never trashed or bashed the book. Why did I suddenly transmigrate here?"

"My young, handsome, wealthy life... And more importantly, I'd only just graduated and started enjoying it."

The young man sitting on the floor suddenly stopped complaining. He stared blankly at the ceiling, and the dried blood on his face began to flow again. In the space of a single breath, he had become a man drenched in blood.

He was completely unaware of it. His eyes were vacant and lifeless as he stared at the ceiling, where a bizarre, constantly twisting starry sky was reflected in his pupils.

He saw an eye, an eye gazing down on the mortal world!

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

An inexplicable terror jolted the "bloody man" back to his senses. He stiffly lowered his gaze, afraid to look up again, but that did nothing to stop the "eye gazing down on the mortal world." He and the eye were still locked in a stare.

No, this couldn't go on. He had to ask for help—he had to call upon the gods of this world.

The instant the thought of calling for help crossed his mind, his body instinctively tapped his chest three times and began reciting a familiar Honorific Name:

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

"Great God of Steam and Machinery..."

After repeating it twice, he finally managed to suppress his body's instinct to pray to its own deity. Then he began reciting the Honorific Names of other great beings:

"The Fool who doesn't belong to this era, the mysterious ruler above the Gray Fog, the King of Yellow and Black who wields good fortune."

"More exalted than the stars, more ancient than eternity, the Evernight Goddess. You are the Lady of Crimson, the Mother of Concealment, the Empress of Misfortune and Terror, the Lord of Sleep and Silence."

"Adam!"

"I'm here."

The air suddenly fell still. All the strange phenomena disappeared: the eye gazing down on the mortal world, the abstract and twisting starry sky, the voices boiling in his mind, and the knowledge that had been trying to burst out through his skull.

The bloodstains on the "bloody man" vanished in an instant, revealing the handsome, slightly boyish face beneath. His eyes cleared, turning calm and peaceful, as if he had undergone a spiritual baptism.

Somewhat relieved, yet still wary, he turned to the golden-haired priest behind him, who wore a warm smile, and nodded in greeting.

"Good evening, Mr. Adam."

Dressed in a simple white robe, with a thick, pale-gold beard covering the lower half of his face and clear, innocent golden eyes like a baby's, the priest smiled and gave him a slight nod. His tone was gentle, putting him at ease and inspiring not the slightest hostility or wariness.

"Good evening, Mr. Cyrin. Or should I call you Mr. Li En?"

The "bloody man," now calm again, fell silent for a moment before letting out a long breath.

"Just call me Cyrin. Li En isn't the same as Cyrin, but in this world, I am him."

"A reasonable choice." The golden-haired priest smiled and nodded. Then his tone abruptly turned serious.

"What do you think of this world?"

"A book, a story, a grand and dazzling performance, or a strange, low-dimensional world filled with despair?"

Cyrin tried to arrange his words carefully in his mind, but when he saw those clear, innocent golden eyes, he suddenly gave up.

He didn't want to lie to him. He shouldn't deceive someone who had just saved his life, even if his answer might very well determine his fate from here on.

After a brief struggle, the little white figure labeled "honesty" on his head kicked the little black figure labeled "self-interest" away.

Then he calmed down completely and answered with firm sincerity:

"To the person I was before today, this was a fascinating story. To the person I am now, this should be a real world—a transmigration that's neither wonderful nor thrilling."

"As for the person I'll become, it'll probably be a long journey to find my way home. Well, if I can stay alive in this world surrounded by evil gods and Outer Deities."

Adam gave him a slight nod. His warm smile didn't change, and his voice remained calm and gentle.

"Your essence is higher than that of this world. Your soul's essence is close to, or even beyond, that of a Great Old One. As long as the barrier left behind by the Oldest One remains intact, you should have little trouble living in this world."

"Your essence means you can ignore the corruption brought by most of the mysteries in this world. You also have a warm, harmonious family, which can ensure you lead a normal life."

After hearing Adam's words, Cyrin gave a bitter laugh. "So what I just encountered was part of that tiny minority?"

Adam nodded slightly. "You are a visitor from a higher dimension. You shook His essence as a Great Old One, and brought Him an opportunity to advance further."

Cyrin froze. He suddenly thought of a topic he had once seen. To the world described in this novel, readers like them were "High-Dimensional Overseers."

So now I'm a High-Dimensional Overseer without any power or authority?

He also recalled the eye gazing down on the mortal world. Bits of information seemed to be drawn to him, spontaneously popping into his mind.

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

"Stop."

A voice full of authority and pressure cut off his muttering. Coming back to his senses, Cyrin looked at Adam, who was watching him, and his expression turned grim.

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

Adam nodded without changing his expression, then explained, "Because of symbolism and essence, your connection to Him is very close. Even across the barrier left behind by the Oldest One, you can still establish contact, as long as both sides agree."

I didn't agree... He wanted to complain, but as a loyal reader of Lord of the Mysteries, Cyrin understood that at the level of a Great Old One, the other party could see or hear even a thought that crossed his mind.

Looking at Adam, whose expression hadn't changed from beginning to end, Cyrin hesitated for a moment before asking:

"Mr. Adam, what should I do?"

Adam replied gently, "Become as strong as you can before the barrier left behind by the Oldest One breaks. There can only be one 'High-Dimensional Overseer' in this universe. Your meeting and collision can only be delayed. They're inevitable."

Cyrin: (⊙_⊙;)

I haven't finished reading the second book yet, but I know that the barrier above us, riddled with cracks, won't hold out until the Apocalypse foretold in the Prophecy.

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