Klein's brain raced at an unprecedented speed, fine beads of sweat already forming on his forehead beneath the gray fog.
What should he do?
His pitiful smattering of mysticism was like a grade schooler reciting the multiplication table before a university professor when faced with a genuine demigod—utterly meaningless aside from humiliating himself.
So the only solution was to say something the other party didn't know.
But how could a Sequence 9 rookie like him possibly know something a demigod did not?
Information asymmetry—that was the only way to break the deadlock.
Something he knew, but the other party didn't—
Myths and legends from Earth? Or that mysterious luck-transfer ritual? No, they were too far-fetched. If they conflicted with this world's underlying rules, he would only expose even more.
Then he could only mention something that existed in this world, yet was extremely obscure and difficult to verify.
That way, even if the other party investigated it afterward, he would have enough time and room to fabricate more lies to fool them.
As that thought crossed his mind, Klein recalled the long-sealed, highly classified documents he had browsed through in the Nighthawks' warehouse behind Chanis Gate in Tingen City.
One of them seemed to be related to the sun god worshipped by the Eternal Blazing Sun Church, yet pointed to an even more ancient and forbidden existence.
The relevant records were so scarce that they amounted to only a few vague words.
This was it.
Klein's taut body quietly relaxed. He leaned back against his chair once more, and the finger that had been frozen in midair resumed tapping idly against the ancient surface of the bronze long table.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
It sounded like the rhythm of thought, yet also like a countdown to Judgment.
"This—"
Klein spoke. He