Beyonder Gathering

In front of the bar, Cyril and the Grey-robed Man chatted intermittently about harmless topics, looking exactly like two socially anxious strangers seated together on a steam train, awkwardly trying to socialize.

As more people gradually filled the bar, it became increasingly noisy. The seats before the counter were no longer quiet, so the two simply moved to a table in the corner and fell into a prolonged silence.

Actually, not talking was pretty nice too. At least they did not have to make awkward conversation.

As he muttered to himself, he suddenly noticed that the Grey-robed Man would occasionally glance at the wall clock hanging on the wall diagonally across from them, one whose accuracy was anyone's guess.

Was he calculating the time? Wasn't he worried that the bar's clock had gone too long without being reset and was running slow?

The thought had barely surfaced when the Grey-robed Man's hoarse, low voice sounded beside him, as though fine sand had been poured into his throat:

"Follow me."

After saying that, he picked up the glass before him and drained the liquor in one gulp, then headed straight for the bar's back door.

Cyril hesitated briefly before choosing to follow.

After leaving through Smart Bar's back door, the two walked one after the other through a somewhat dim corridor and entered another room.

The Grey-robed Man took out an iron mask that could only cover the upper half of one's face, along with a hooded robe, and handed them to Cyril. He instructed him:

"Change into these, then you can go over. Although the Beyonder gathering here is not particularly high-level, it is enough for you."

So confident. Was this guy Sequence 6, or Sequence 5?

Although he had long known what this gathering was like, Cyril still asked another question to maintain his persona:

"Doesn't joining the gathering require some sort of review or proof?"

The Grey-robed Man gave him another look. "No. The spirituality still leaking from your body is the best proof."

After a pause, he added, "A word of advice: when you have just consumed a potion and your spirituality is still unstable, what you need most is meditation and adaptation, not running around everywhere looking for your own kind."

"Eighty percent of the dangers Beyonders encounter come from so-called peers. After all, every Beyonder is a walking..."

"Move faster. If you get there early, you will still have time to understand how this Beyonder gathering works."

The Grey-robed Man seemed to recall something and did not finish his sentence, instead changing the subject stiffly.

Every Beyonder was a walking Beyonder Characteristic?

He knew about the existence of Beyonder Characteristics, and he did not look like a good person. A member of some Concealment organization? And most likely one of its core members.

To run into a Concealment organization so casually... as expected of Backlund, a great metropolis where even a passing dog might be a Demigod. Yeah, he should be more careful in the future.

After a brief pause, he quickly gathered his wandering thoughts and looked at the Grey-robed Man by the door. "Let's go. I'm ready."

The Grey-robed Man did not reply. He simply headed deeper into the alleyway, with Cyril following closely behind him.

Half a minute later, the two stopped before a tightly shut door. The Grey-robed Man standing in front knocked on it with a distinct rhythm, seemingly some kind of signal.

Seven or eight seconds later, a small wooden panel on the door was suddenly pulled aside, revealing a pair of brown eyes behind it.

After the eyes behind the door inspected them for quite a while, the door was suddenly pulled open. Inside stood another man in a grey robe and mask. He turned sideways and made way for them.

"Go in."

Neither Cyril nor the Grey-robed Man spoke. They passed him directly and walked inside.

After crossing a dark hall, the two entered a living room. A candle burned on the coffee table, its dim yellow glow casting vague shadows throughout the room.

More than a dozen people were already seated on the sofas and chairs around the coffee table, all dressed in hooded robes and iron-colored masks. Noticing the movement behind them, they all turned around at once.

The person seated in the main seat wore a white robe and a dark gold mask. His gaze swept over the two of them before settling on Cyril. Cyril tilted his head slightly and met his eyes.

"A newcomer? Find a seat and sit wherever you like."

"I am the organizer of this gathering. You may call me Eye of Wisdom. You may also choose a codename for easier communication, though it is not required."

"The gathering will begin in three minutes. You may wait at your seat, or you may ask me about the rules."

His voice carried an aged quality. Deep nasolabial folds lined his cheeks, and his skin was slightly shriveled. No matter how one looked at him, he appeared to be an elderly man.

There were obvious traces of makeup and lingering spirituality on his face. The exposed skin on his hands had also been disguised. It was not a Beyonder Ability, but something similar to makeup.

Uh, why was I so sensitive to traces of makeup?

It was as though this knowledge had secretly slipped into my mind without me realizing it. No, that was not quite right. It was more like whenever I needed this knowledge, it would emerge on its own.

Was this what status meant? There should be other reasons too. For example, this knowledge was already within the scope of the symbolism and authority of the High-Dimensional Overseer.

Pulling back his scattered thoughts, he found a random high-backed chair and sat down, quietly observing the others' transactions and discussions.

Over the next three minutes, several more people entered one after another, wearing hooded robes and amber-colored masks.

Other than greeting old Mr. Eye of Wisdom, they did not interact with one another. Each sat quietly in place without making any unnecessary movements, until old Mr. Eye of Wisdom knocked on the coffee table before him.

"Today's gathering has officially begun."

"I heard there was going to be a gathering of a wild Beyonder organization here today. Oh my, why is it so dark? Even if you are wild Beyonders, surely you can afford gas wall lamps?"

"Holding a gathering in such a pitch-black place really makes one question how legitimate this is."

A voice that sounded somewhat honest and simple, yet was inexplicably irritating in its choice of words, suddenly rang out, interrupting the first person who was about to speak after the gathering began.

The irritating words once again made everyone in the room turn to look. A chubby figure wearing the same robe and mask as everyone else swaggered familiarly into the middle of the crowd.

Old Mr. Eye of Wisdom glanced at him. An indescribable majesty suddenly surged from his body, and the dark gold mask on his face seemed to come alive, transforming into a lofty and imposing superior. Anyone who looked directly at it felt their knees weaken, unable to stop themselves from wanting to kneel and submit beneath that majesty.

Leaning back in his wooden chair, Cyril raised a hand to touch his chest. The sudden majesty made his heartbeat accelerate uncontrollably, but that was all.

That indescribable majesty seemed capable only of making his heart beat slightly faster and improving his blood circulation. It could not affect him mentally at all.

A mystical item from the Arbiter Pathway? But it seemed ineffective against me.

Was this another special trait brought by status? Did that mean I naturally countered sequences like Arbiter, Spectator, and Sleepless, those capable of mental attacks?

This trait was probably limited to the low and middle sequences. Adam had been able to hypnotize and read his mind without any difficulty.

While his thoughts wandered, old Mr. Eye of Wisdom had already withdrawn his majesty. In the room, aside from Cyril and the Grey-robed Man who had brought him to the gathering, everyone else let out a breath of relief and slowly straightened their limp bodies.

As for the chubby fellow with the irritating mouth, he had dropped to his knees the instant the majesty spread.

Old Mr. Eye of Wisdom ignored his disheveled state and spoke calmly:

"Another newcomer. Find a seat and sit down. The gathering has already begun."

"O-okay."

The chubby figure rose from the ground rather awkwardly, his legs still trembling. He looked around the room, then walked straight toward the chair to Cyril's left.

Only after he sat down did the hostile and disgusted gazes around him slowly shift away.

If the location and timing had been appropriate, they probably would have each given him a few punches or kicks. If this fellow had not been so loose-tongued, they would not have had to experience that suffocating majesty alongside him.

Yet the person responsible for the little farce seemed completely unaware that everyone in the room was hostile toward him. The moment he sat down, he eagerly proposed a trade:

"I need Marrow Crystals of the Elf Spring and an Alicorn's heart. Who has them, or any leads?"