Twilight Hermit Order

At 8:00 PM Backlund time, Cyril lay on his bed on schedule, intending to use meditation to quickly drift off to sleep.

Just as he lay down, before he even had a chance to close his eyes to meditate, he—who had been full of energy just a moment ago—was suddenly overcome by a wave of drowsiness. He let out an uncontrollable yawn and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

His consciousness sank into a void of darkness, as if pulled and tugged by some unknown force, drifting continuously toward a peculiar place.

How amazing. Is this the method the Twilight Hermit Order uses to summon people? I wonder where my consciousness is drifting to—the depths of the collective subconscious, or some special collective dream?

The moment the thought crossed his mind, he truly opened his eyes and saw the scene around him clearly.

It was a deep, dark, and profound ocean, where every drop of liquid was like a ray of light, seemingly representing a point of consciousness or a brand.

His consciousness drifted uncontrollably toward the "ocean" and then sank into the water.

A cold sensation spread through his mind briefly, plunging him into a state of numbness where it felt as if even his thoughts were frozen.

When he regained his senses, Cyril found that he had left that deep, dark ocean and arrived inside a magnificent, colossal cathedral.

In the ancient, ornate, and mysterious cathedral, rows of pitch-black stone pillars were embedded with the skulls of various races, yet it felt not eerie, but rather filled with a sense of holiness.

On the stained-glass windows high above, the surrounding walls, and the great doors, transparent and twisted faces protruded, as if countless souls were sealed within, or perhaps as if they were reflections of some collective spiritual consciousness.

Most striking was a cross over a hundred meters tall, surrounded by a dense mass of bones. These bones belonged to humans, giants, elves, and even demonic wolves, seemingly covering every race that had ever appeared in this world, embedded into every pillar, every arch, and every dome to surround that magnificent cross.

In front of the cross were rows of black, high-backed chairs. Each chair held a figure; they were men and women, old and young, but the only thing they shared was a special temperament formed by long-term positions of high authority.

At the very front of all the seats, beneath the tall cross, Adam sat quietly, dressed in a simple white robe with a silver cross pendant hanging from his chest. He wore a gentle smile, sitting there like a spectator outside the frame, quietly observing everyone.

Cyril felt his heart jump as he met the gazes falling upon him. He felt that the owner of every single gaze could easily destroy him, and some of them could cause him substantial harm and destruction just by looking at him.

There were quite a few demigods, angels, and others; even those who hadn't touched divinity were definitely the top-tier Beyonders below the demigod level.

The Cathedral of Bones!

I never expected the meeting place of the Twilight Hermit Order to be Adam's Cathedral of Bones. Although I had guessed it before, actually being here is still thrilling. Can this be considered the prototype of a divine kingdom?

It is more magnificent than any building I have ever seen, possessing both artistic and divine qualities.

Most importantly, I feel like a husky that has just broken into a pack of wolves.

As his thoughts drifted, Adam's voice rang out gently: "Sit down, this is your seat."

As Adam's words fell, a new black high-backed chair appeared at His right hand, the position closest to Him, while all the seats in that row shifted one spot to the left.

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

With an expressionless face, he endured the scrutiny and appraisal of the surrounding gazes, walked across the Cathedral of Bones, and sat in the seat closest to Adam's right hand.

After sitting down, he swept his gaze intentionally or unintentionally 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 in a gray-white robe. His appearance was unremarkable; his hair was completely white but thick, and there were few wrinkles on his face. He looked quite ordinary.

Because of Adam's arrangement, this person, who had originally been in the front, had been forced to move back one seat. Cyril was a bit worried that the other party might be hostile or dissatisfied with him because of this.

But it seemed he had overthought it; the man's expression didn't change at all, and he even nodded at him with a slight smile, looking exactly like a kind and affectionate elder.

After Cyril sat down, Adam did not speak again, sitting quietly under the giant cross in prayer, letting the people in the hall communicate freely.

Cyril took the opportunity to observe the people here, though he did so by glancing around as if by accident. Everyone here was a Beyonder, and most were high-sequence; they were too sensitive to gazes, and a gaze that was too direct might be considered rude.

Judging by their attire, the people here came from both the Northern and Southern Continents, and most were from the upper classes. Even those dressed more simply possessed an extraordinary temperament.

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

Noticing his curious gaze as he looked around, the old man in the gray-white robe beside him turned his head and whispered to him:

"Just look. Although most people who come here don't use disguises, you shouldn't try to investigate their real-world identities through this. Of course, you can't investigate them anyway."

Cyril asked curiously: "Why?"

The old man chuckled and said: "Try to recall our appearances in your mind, try to recall the details of our features."

Cyril immediately tried, and then he discovered that he could not recall the appearance of anyone present in his mind, nor even the details of their features.

Psychological suggestion? When?

He paused, looking at the giant cross surrounded by dense bones, lost in thought.

...Perhaps this isn't a psychological suggestion directly imposed on the members by Adam, but a kind of rule-like influence brought about by the environment. After all, this Cathedral of Bones can already be considered a prototype of a divine kingdom.

Back then—no, that's not right, it should be in the future—Amon being able to obtain the final "Worm of Time" Beyonder characteristic in Backlund was largely thanks to the Cathedral of Bones.

As he let his thoughts wander, the old man beside him chuckled: "It seems you already know the reason for this limitation."

"There have been quite a few little ones joining recently, but you are the most special and the most interesting one."

"Me? Why?"

Cyril asked back, feeling curious... It couldn't be because he sat next to Adam the moment he arrived, right?

The old man leaned back against his chair, and only after a moment of recollection did he speak: "Although many people have joined us in recent years, those qualified to sit here are at least Sequence 6, possessing relatively powerful sealed artifacts and the ability to deter a region."

"You are the only one in recent years to appear here as a Sequence 9, and a newly promoted Sequence 9 at that."

He paused, then added: "The last little one to appear here as a Sequence 9 was Emperor Roselle."

Cyril glanced sideways slightly: "Emperor Roselle?"

The old man nodded gently, as if recalling the past: "It was him. He wasn't as restrained as you are back then; the first time he came, he scanned everyone in an active and straightforward manner, and then he was warned by someone."

"But it cannot be denied that he was a formidable figure who reached the destination all Beyonders dream of within just a few decades, even if it was only for a very brief few minutes."

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

One of the earliest masters of mysticism for humanity, the founder of human mysticism, an Angel of the Spectator pathway at Sequence 2, and also one of the people Roselle was relatively familiar with in the Twilight Hermit Order.

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

Just as the thought flashed through his mind, the old man's voice beside him rang out at the perfect moment: "You seem to have recognized me, because I mentioned Roselle?"

"It seems you have quite a deep connection with this legendary figure. Are you a descendant he left behind, or a successor?"

Cyril's expression stiffened slightly, and the thoughts flashing through his mind finally coalesced into a single sentence: I hate "Spectators."