Twilight Hermit Order

At 8:00 p.m. Backlund time, Cyril lay down on his bed as scheduled, intending to use meditation to quickly fall asleep.

He had barely lain down, without even having time to close his eyes and meditate, when drowsiness suddenly welled up in his previously energetic mind. He yawned unbearably, then fell into a deep sleep.

His consciousness sank through nothingness and darkness, as though drawn and tugged by something unknown, falling continuously as it drifted toward some strange place.

How fascinating. Was this how the Twilight Hermit Order pulled people in? Where was his consciousness drifting—to the depths of the Mind World, or into some special collective dream?

The moment the thought arose, he truly opened his eyes and saw his surroundings clearly.

It was a deep, dark sea. Every drop of water there was like a ray of light and shadow, as though each represented a fragment of consciousness, an imprint.

His consciousness drifted uncontrollably toward the "sea," then sank into the water.

A cold sensation briefly spread through his mind, plunging him into a numb state where even his thoughts seemed frozen.

When he came back to his senses, Cyril found that he had left that deep, dark sea and arrived inside a grand, enormous cathedral.

Within the ancient, magnificent, and mysterious cathedral stood pitch-black stone pillars inlaid with skulls and skeletons from every race. Rather than seeming eerie, they were filled with a sense of holiness.

Transparent, distorted faces protruded from the stained-glass windows high above, the surrounding walls, and the great doors. It was as though countless souls had been sealed within them, or as though they reflected some kind of collective consciousness of the mind.

Most eye-catching was a cross over a hundred meters tall, surrounded by densely packed bones. Among them were humans, Giants, Elves, and demonic wolves, seemingly encompassing every race that had ever appeared in this world. They were embedded across every pillar, every arch, and every dome, clustering around that majestic cross.

Rows of black high-backed chairs stood before the cross, with a figure seated in each one. There were men and women, elders and youths. The only thing they had in common was the special bearing formed by holding high positions for many years.

At the very front of all the seats, beneath the towering cross, Adam sat quietly in a plain white robe with a silver cross pendant hanging from his chest. A gentle smile remained on his face as he watched everyone in silence, like a Spectator outside the scene.

Cyril's heart pounded as he met the gazes falling upon him. He felt that the owner of every gaze could easily destroy him. Some of those gazes alone could inflict tangible harm and devastation upon him.

There were quite a few Demigods and Angels. As for the rest, even if they had not touched divinity, they were definitely among the very strongest Beyonders below Demigod level.

Corpse Cathedral!

He had never expected the Twilight Hermit Order's gathering place to be Adam's Corpse Cathedral. Although he had suspected it before, arriving here still left him unable to suppress his excitement. This could be considered the prototype of a divine kingdom, couldn't it?

It was more magnificent than every building he had ever seen, while simultaneously possessing both artistic and divine qualities.

Most importantly, he currently felt like a husky that had wandered into a pack of wolves.

As the thought stirred, Adam's gentle voice rang out. "Sit down. This is your seat."

As Adam's words fell, a new black high-backed chair appeared at his right hand, in the position closest to him. At the same time, every seat in that row shifted one place to the left.

At that moment, Cyril felt the gazes upon him become even more substantial, filled with inquiry, curiosity, and scrutiny.

Keeping his face expressionless, he endured the probing and appraisal from the surrounding gazes, crossed most of the Corpse Cathedral, and sat in the seat closest to Adam at his right hand.

After taking his seat, he casually swept his gaze toward his left. One of the most oppressive gazes from earlier had come from that person. This was definitely an Angel!

It was an old man draped in a grayish-white robe. His appearance was utterly ordinary, his hair completely white but still thick, with few wrinkles on his face and no particularly distinctive features.

Because of Adam's arrangement, he had been forcibly shifted back one seat from his original position at the front. Cyril was somewhat worried that the other man might become hostile toward him or resent him because of it.

But apparently, he had overthought it. The old man's expression did not change in the slightest. He even smiled faintly and nodded at him, looking every bit like a kind, loving elder.

After Cyril took his seat, Adam spoke no further. He sat quietly beneath the enormous cross in prayer, allowing the people in the hall to converse freely.

Cyril took the opportunity to observe the people here as well, though he only did so by casually sweeping his eyes over them. Everyone seated here was a Beyonder, and more than half were high Sequence. They were overly sensitive to gazes, and staring too directly might make them feel disrespected.

Judging by their clothing, there were people from both the Northern and Southern Continents. Most were upper-class figures, and even those dressed more simply possessed extraordinary bearing.

It seemed that those who could join the Twilight Hermit Order either had sufficiently high social status or were powerful enough themselves. Most of the time, those two qualities complemented each other. Nobles with political status but no strength were still rare.

Noticing his curious gaze moving over the surroundings, the old man in the grayish-white robe beside him turned his head and spoke to him quietly.

"Just look. Although most people who come here have not disguised themselves, you cannot use that to investigate their identities in the real world. Of course, you wouldn't be able to investigate them anyway."

Cyril asked curiously, "Why?"

The old man chuckled. "Try recalling our appearances and the details on our bodies in your mind."

Cyril immediately tried it, only to discover that he could not recall the appearance of a single person present, nor any details about them.

Psychological suggestion? When had it happened?

After a pause, he looked toward the enormous cross surrounded by densely packed bones, deep in thought.

...Perhaps this was not a psychological suggestion directly imposed upon the members by Adam, but some near-rule-like influence brought about by the environment. After all, this Corpse Cathedral already counted as the prototype of a divine kingdom.

Back then—no, that was wrong. It should be later. Amon's ability to obtain the final Worm of Time Beyonder Characteristic in Backlund owed much to the Corpse Cathedral.

While his thoughts wandered, the old man beside him chuckled. "It seems you already know the reason for this restriction."

"Quite a few little ones have joined recently, but you are the most special—and the most interesting—one."

"Me? Why?"

Cyril asked curiously... It couldn't be because he had sat beside Adam the moment he arrived, could it?

The old man leaned back against his chair and spoke only after recalling for a moment. "Although many have joined us in recent years, those qualified to sit here are at least Sequence 6, Sequence 6 Beyonders who possess relatively powerful mystical items and can intimidate an entire region."

"You are the only one in recent years to appear here as a Sequence 9, and you have only just advanced to Sequence 9."

After a pause, he added, "The last little one to appear here as a Sequence 9 was Roselle."

Cyril glanced sideways slightly. "Emperor Roselle?"

The old man nodded lightly as though recalling the past. "It was him. Back then, he was nowhere near as reserved as you. On his first visit, he actively and openly looked over everyone, then was warned by someone."

"But there is no denying that he was an extraordinary figure. In only a few decades, he reached the endpoint every Beyonder dreamed of, though only for a very brief few minutes."

A name suddenly popped into Cyril's wandering mind: Hermes.

One of humanity's earliest masters of mysticism, the Founder of Human Mysticism, an Angel of Sequence 2 of the Spectator Pathway, and one of the people Roselle had been relatively familiar with in the Twilight Hermit Order.

An Angel who had joined the Twilight Hermit Order, who called Roselle a little one and seemed quite familiar with and knowledgeable about him—Hermes, who had appeared in Roselle's diary, was the first person Cyril thought of.

The moment that thought crossed his mind, the old man beside him spoke at just the right time. "It seems you recognized me because I mentioned Roselle?"

"It seems you have quite a connection with that legendary figure. Are you one of his descendants, or his successor?"

Cyril's expression stiffened slightly, and the thoughts flashing through his heart ultimately converged into one sentence: I hate Spectators.