"I have come to know... history is no shallow thing!"
"I have come to know... multiple histories, too, have their veils!"
"I have come to know... the Gate is here!"
In a chanting tone, Mase loudly recited a hymn in Spirit Language.
The grayish-brown ritual array flickered continuously. As the sun set, its radiance reached its peak. At the sacrificial positions at the heart of the ritual, one precious material after another—things ordinary Beyonders could only dream of obtaining—melted away. Even the insect-like script on the surface of the History Stele Inscription wriggled and crawled without end.
Countless rays of light merged with cobalt-blue mist, shrouding Connie, who served as the "beacon."
Every member of the Society for Historical Studies could sense that there was something intangible there—the pursuit of their entire lives—yet they simply could not make out its form.
The agony of yearning for something beyond their reach made them weep bitterly and howl without end...
Even Mase, an inhuman being, shed tears at this moment. His mind unconsciously tipped into madness as he cried, "The secrets of all histories, I now know them all! Now is the time to open the Gate!"
Aaron sighed.
At a time like this, it was time for him, the ritual's assistant—the "Gatekeeper"—to step forward.
What the "Gatekeeper" guarded was the Gate of Multiple Histories. Their duties included holding the Gate shut, preserving history, and preventing people from rashly entering it.
Of course, as a watchman, one could also steal from beneath one's watch and make the Gate of Multiple Histories manifest!
His spirituality surged forth, drawing out the final stroke of the ritual array.
The cobalt-blue mist churned, and from Miss Connie's body suddenly overflowed an indescribable radiance.
Mortal eyes could not capture that color; it had already surpassed the spectrum