At Saint Hillan Cathedral, the prayer hall was always quiet, though people came and went.
House raised a hand to adjust the half-top hat on his head and followed the crowd to the front of the hall. He found a seat before the Triangular Sacred Emblem, formed from gears, levers, and steam, and prayed with perfect calm.
When he was done praying, he went to the offering box at the front and left a small donation. Then he walked against the flow of people toward the back of the prayer hall.
He passed through a corridor covered in murals rendered with mechanical precision and headed for the stairs leading underground.
He could no longer resist the urge to pay his respects to that great being. For him, every day, every minute, was an ordeal.
But before he could pay his respects, he had to prepare a gift worthy of the great being—a gift that could show the depth of his faith and sincerity.
He had thought about it for a long time. At last, he realized that nothing could make a better gift than one of the Sealed Artifacts beneath the cathedral.
Though he wasn't fully prepared, he couldn't wait any longer.
He descended the long staircase to the underground level of Saint Hillan Cathedral and stopped before a half-open door. Then he raised his hand and knocked.
Knock, knock~
"Come in." A robust voice came from inside the room.
House adjusted the hat on his head, then pushed open the door and entered.
To earn this chance to enter the underground level of Saint Hillan Cathedral, he had applied to the Church for an opportunity to advance to Melee Scholar.
The moment he saw the great being, he had completely mastered the Mystery Pryer potion with its help. Combined with the merits he had accumulated, this had allowed him to earn the opportunity to advance.
Inside the room, a man with unruly, fluffy hair sticking straight up looked House over, then asked solemnly:
"Your application has been approved, but I still have to ask you one more time. Are you sure you want to advance?"
"You're no longer young. Advancing is dangerous for someone in your condition."
House nodded with determination. "But my faith is strong enough. I believe God will protect me."
Seeing this, the man with the unruly hair stopped trying to dissuade him and nodded solemnly.
"Very well. You've chosen the Melee Scholar potion, so you'll have to wait a little. I'll bring the prepared potion over shortly."
"In the meantime, you can meditate and get yourself into the best possible condition before taking the potion."
With that, the man left the room, closing the door behind him as he went.
House let out a soft breath, then turned, intending to step outside and look around.
He had taken only one step when the room's lights suddenly dimmed. Cold gusts of wind swirled around him, and he felt as though countless invisible eyes had turned toward him.
House's first thought was that a Sealed Artifact had gone out of control. His second was that his opportunity had arrived.
Before he could act, the tea left on the table by the unruly-haired man began to ripple. Under House's astonished, wary gaze, words in silvery-white Loenese appeared on the surface:
"Fool, I have come to convey the divine revelation of that sublime being:
"Abandon your foolish idea. Don't do anything unnecessary, and don't cause needless trouble for his perfect identity."
"You're the most foolish Mystery Pryer I've ever seen. Did the Hidden Sage break your brain while stuffing it with knowledge?"
"A mere Sequence 9 dares to target the Steam Church's headquarters in Backlund..."
House watched the words appear and disappear on the tea's surface, his face turning red, then pale.
He stood there silently for several seconds before finally managing to say, slowly, "Why should I believe you?"
One by one, new words appeared on the rippling surface of the tea:
"What a foolish Mystery Pryer..."
"The Honorific Name of that sublime being is:
The Sublime from the Unknown;
The Door Above the Dimensions;
The Incarnation of Art and Fantasy."
"You can seek confirmation directly from that sublime being, but whether he rejects or punishes you afterward is your own concern."
As the final word appeared, the abnormality in the teacup vanished. The room's lights brightened again.
Everything was unchanged, as if nothing had happened—except for House, who stood there in a daze.
His Mystery Pryer's intuition told him that the Honorific Name given by the mysterious being that had contacted him through the tea was genuine.
What concerned him now was whether his idea truly had been foolish and unnecessary, and whether it would cause needless trouble for that great being.
"I..."
He parted his lips, then closed them again, hesitating over and over. In the end, he decided to repent for his mistake:
"The Sublime from the Unknown, the Door Above the Dimensions, the Incarnation of Art and Fantasy."
"Your devout believer begs for your understanding and forgiveness..."
At the same time, Cyril, who was struggling with Zoila in the Painting World, heard a faint, overlapping prayer echo in his ears.
"Your devout believer begs for your understanding and forgiveness..."
"Great God, I know I was wrong..."
The prayers echoing in his ears made Cyril feel as though his spirit were about to leave his body. It seemed that with just a thought, he could separate from the Painting World in the form of a Spirit Body.
Could he leave only as a Spirit Body?
Cyril couldn't help frowning. Once his spirit and body separated, he wouldn't be able to control his body anymore. He had no doubt that Zoila, who was chasing him, would cut him in half.
But the prayers echoing in his ears didn't fade at his bidding. Instead, they grew clearer with time, and his spirit rose uncontrollably, already beginning to leave his body.
"Dammit, stop chanting!" Cyril roared in fury.
Then the entire Painting World fell silent, as still as the grave.
Cyril froze for a moment, then seemed to understand. He turned toward Zoila, who was swinging her blade at him from behind, and lightly swept a hand through the air.
Whoosh!
A solid earthen wall silently sprang up between them.
Seeing this, Cyril instantly understood that his control over the Painting World had surpassed that of its original owner. Unless she had the power to destroy the Painting World outright, he was no longer in any danger.
So he began to yield to the invisible pull, letting his spirit leave his body.
Freed from the constraints of his body, Cyril found his vision rising infinitely higher. The world in his eyes changed completely. He saw countless points, countless lines, and sheet after sheet of "paper" without thickness or edges...
Time and space alike took on concrete shapes he could touch.
As his spirit rose, he once again saw the shadow high above, gazing down upon all things.
No—this time it wasn't infinitely high. Although it still seemed immeasurably distant, he felt he could reach it if he stretched out his hand.
But doing so would be extremely dangerous. It would mean choosing to face the High-Dimensional Overseer directly.
He merely glanced up, then looked away. With a barrier left behind by the Primordial between them, he chose to ignore the other being.
Then he looked down among the countless points, lines, and planes, found the Painting World where his body lay, and pushed it out of the High-Dimensional Overseer's gaze.
During that brief exchange of glances, he had happened to learn some useful information from the High-Dimensional Overseer.
As the symbol and master of dimensions, the High-Dimensional Overseer's observation directly and crucially changed the observed subject's future development and ultimate outcome.
This was a property of higher dimensions, much like the way people observing the quantum microcosm affected it: when I looked, the flowers bloomed brilliantly; when I looked away, the flowers and my heart fell into stillness together.
So to escape a Fate fixed by the High-Dimensional Overseer's observation, one first had to leave its sight, then use one's own level of existence to correct it.
Though he lacked the power to do so fully, as long as he possessed a genuine level of existence, he could still manage a limited form of "observation" by relying on the close connection between his spirit and body.
Noticing that the shadow above moved along with him, Cyril promptly stopped pushing the Painting World.
Looking at the patch of color in his hand, he murmured, "Adam, I need some help."
"The price I can offer is information about some of the Ancient Ones of the Cosmos. It concerns his authority and symbolism."
"All right."
A gentle voice came from his chest, yet seemed to echo in his heart as well.
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