One pursued, the other fled, churning up monstrous waves across the sea. Storms, lightning, and tsunamis swept the entire West Coast. That day came to be known as the Sea God's Wrath.
After that day, the Sea God's worshippers discovered that their prayers no longer received any response.
Senegal, central district, Earl Aaron's estate.
Joey emerged from the washroom clutching his stomach. This was his fifth bout of diarrhea.
"Damn it. The side effects of supernatural items."
He rather regretted using Quenching to ambush Wayne. Not only had it failed to achieve the desired result, but its side effects were still tormenting him. He could barely walk without swaying.
He looked around. The entire estate was silent. No one would ever discover that 0-013 was directing a play. To outsiders, everything looked perfectly normal. That was precisely what made 0-013 so terrifying.
It could quietly invade an area, allowing supernatural powers to influence it little by little. By the time you noticed, you were already caught in its game.
In his daze, he pulled open a door at random. When he came to his senses, he discovered that he was standing in a study.
Ancient, yellowing books filled his field of vision. A dim gas lamp flickered gently on the desk.
He surveyed his surroundings warily, not daring to let his guard down. Under 0-013's influence, danger could emerge when he least expected it.
Suddenly, the sound of turning pages rang out, giving Joey quite a fright.
"Who's there?"
Although the diarrhea had drained much of his strength and energy, he reacted swiftly, drawing his weapon and standing tensely on guard.
A warm yet mechanical voice abruptly spoke.
"You seem rather nervous."
"Who? Who's talking?"
Joey was puzzled. The study was so small that he could take it all in at a glance. There was no one here but him. That was precisely what made it frightening.
Rustle! Pages turned again.
With his attention sharpened to its limit, Joey soon spotted a book on the desk. He approached it cautiously.
A line of writing gradually appeared on a blank page.
"What an interesting fellow. There's a scent about you that intoxicates me, like fine wine aged for years in a cellar. I simply cannot resist it."
As the words appeared, the mechanical voice spoke along with them.
Even a fool would have guessed its identity by now. Staring at the unremarkable notebook, he said, dumbfounded:
"The Book of Ebola?"
"Interesting human. You've actually heard of my illustrious name."
Joey froze on the spot, standing there without moving.
"This... is unbelievable. All I did was go to the washroom, and I found 0-013? Can someone tell me what's going on?" He knitted his brows and racked his brains, but could make no sense of it.
Finally, he asked tentatively, "Were you looking for me?"
That was the only conclusion he could think of.
All the evidence suggested that even high-sequence Transcendents struggled to act freely within 0-013's directing ability. Wayne, currently a sequence 6, could only find it through Earl Aaron.
For Joey to meet the artifact itself out of nowhere, the only explanation he could think of was that it had arranged this encounter.
If you treated a Sealed Artifact with a mind of its own as a mere supernatural item, then believe me, you would die a very ugly death.
Joey remained on guard, ready to flee the instant anything went wrong.
"Human, can you tell me how you returned from the dead?"
Words appeared rapidly on the blank page, clearly reflecting the change in its emotions.
"Returned from the dead? I can do that?" He stared dubiously at the writing.
After pondering for a moment, he remembered when his spirit body had shattered. That was also when he had transferred his entire consciousness into the Round Table Hall. Was 0-013 referring to that incident?
"What are you willing to give me in exchange for that information?"
Having guessed its intentions, he naturally thought of an equivalent exchange. However humanlike a Sealed Artifact might be, it could never escape certain rules.
The yellowed notebook's pages flipped furiously, expressing its current agitation.
Several minutes passed, but the rustling in the study still did not stop.
Joey suggested, "Perhaps you could tell me what your abilities are."
"That does not violate my agreement with the Aaron Family. An excellent suggestion."
An agreement?
The Aaron Family?
Sure enough, the Book of Ebola was connected to Earl Aaron. No wonder finding Aaron was the only way to enter this place.
"I can..."
Dense writing covered the blank pages, explaining everything down to the smallest detail. According to the description, 0-013's abilities were broad rather than specific or fixed, tending toward a wider scope and constant variation.
The general idea differed little from its rumored ability to "direct."
The theatrical performances were merely 0-013's pranks. Its true ability was deduction and extrapolation. That might be difficult to understand, so to put it another way, it was a "Book of Prophecy."
It could deduce an event from beginning to end. Guidance and mental assimilation were merely parts of its abilities.
Its scripts were not fabricated. Rather, they were a form of guidance it provided.
"Were Vade Wisker and Earl Aaron really lovers?" Joey felt as though he had uncovered an earth-shattering piece of gossip.
"That is a second question! You should answer my first question first."
"Uh!" All right. It looked rather foolish, but apparently it was not that dim.
"I almost forgot. Isn't today the Crazy Thursday gathering? Should I give it a try?" He weighed the pros and cons.
This time, he had truly witnessed the terror of a Grade 0 Sealed Artifact. On second thought, however, the gray fog in the Round Table Hall could resist even the maddening whispers of the Endless Sea and isolate divine power. Letting it inside should not cause any major problems.
There was another point: Joey had great confidence in his authority within the Round Table Hall. Even a Grade 0 Sealed Artifact held no terror for him there.
"I just don't know whether I can bring it inside." Joey considered this, glanced at 0-013, then slowly spoke:
"I can take you somewhere else. Would you like to try?"
The constantly turning pages abruptly stopped, as though expressing its dejection.
"I can't leave!"
"Perhaps we can give it a try!"
With that, Joey began making a show of reciting a prayer.
"Ruler of calamity and fortune,
Witness to the torrent of history,
The Hermit returned from the Great Old Ones,
The great existence above the ashes."
As he recited the honorific name, a gray mist quietly emerged. Joey pressed his hand against the yellowed book.
Above the Gray Fog, his figure was shrouded in mist, leaving only a human silhouette. An aura of majesty surrounded him, forbidding anyone from looking directly at him.
Once inside the Round Table Hall, 0-013 was like a fish released into the sea. Its pages flapped as it roamed freely through the hall.
Joey looked up. Beyond the gray fog, two threads on the towering pillar shone brilliantly, as though some kind of ritual was taking place.
He did not respond immediately. Instead, he reached toward the airborne 0-013 and grasped it, easily drawing it into his hand. With a flick of his fingers, he opened it, and a line of writing quickly appeared on the blank page.
"Oh! My great master, your most loyal servant, Azrael, has finally returned to your embrace. I am so excited!"
Master? What the hell?
Azrael? Was that its true name?
Joey could hardly understand why 0-013 had changed so drastically.
"Why are you calling me master?"
Azrael:
"I am very sorry, my master, but I cannot answer that question. It comes from my instincts."
0-013 operates under rules of order. It must answer questions and cannot lie, so the issue may lie with the gray fog. Joey frowned at the surging, boundless gray fog. Perhaps it concealed even deeper secrets.
The threads on the pillar flashed ever more frequently. Joey's expression grew solemn, and he said in a low voice, "Azrael, I want you to be quiet."
A line appeared on the blank page: "As you command, master." It even added a little smiling face at the end.
First, Joey formed Azure Dragon's body, then produced spirituality to draw upon the threads connected to the pillar.
In Isamoth, Helena returned home after a day's work. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was five past six.
"Black bread, oat grass, fairy wine, a rag doll, candlelight. All right, everything's ready."
It was her first time preparing a sacrificial ritual, and she was still very nervous.
With everything in place, Helena began reciting the honorific name:
"Witness to the torrent of history."
"..."
A cloud of gray mist suddenly appeared out of thin air and enveloped her. Her consciousness gradually faded.
Meanwhile, far away on an island in Las Vegat on the West Coast.
A group of people had lit a bonfire and were holding a party on the island, slaughtering chickens and sheep and performing dances unique to pirates.
Clyde Phoenix drained the flask in his hand and stared at the blazing bonfire, his brows tightly furrowed.
Recently, for unknown reasons, many ships had vanished at sea. Even several official warships had been destroyed. Panic had spread, leaving him no choice but to take his fleet into hiding for the time being.
For an adventurer of the seas, nothing was more frustrating than being unable to sail.
"Perhaps I can get some information at that gathering."
After bidding farewell to his companions urging him to drink, Clyde returned to his cabin, lit the items he had prepared beforehand, and began reciting the honorific name.
It was a strange feeling. As a pirate, he normally recited the Sea God's honorific name. Now, he felt as though he were abandoning his faith.
Gray mist enveloped him, and his consciousness gradually scattered. When it returned, he was already in the Round Table Hall.
"Good evening, Mr. Hermit," Helena greeted him as usual.
"Good evening, Viper, and Azure Dragon."
Having received the Hermit's promise, she no longer feared encountering maddening whispers during her advancement. Lately, she had been working very hard, and the potion within her was being digested at an astonishing speed.
She believed it would not be long before she digested it completely. Then she could prepare to advance to the next sequence. In the past, she would never even have dared imagine such things.
She was just about to share the information she had collected when she suddenly noticed an extra object beside the Hermit's seat at the head of the table.
"That looks like a book."
At the same time, Clyde also noticed something unusual. Unlike Helena, a fallen noblewoman who had grown up sheltered and pampered, he had lived among ordinary people since childhood and had encountered many incredible secrets.
This book seemed very similar to something he had heard about in a rumor.
"Mr. Hermit, I recently discovered some writing from an ancient era. I'm not sure how to give it to you."
"Oh? An ancient era?" Joey understood that Clyde meant the previous epoch, or perhaps an even older age.
He thought for a moment. At a flicker of his will, paper appeared at Clyde's seat.
"You can transcribe the memories in your mind."
You could do that too?
Clyde found it rather marvelous. He took the paper in his hands, and passages of writing were soon inscribed upon it.
It was not the script commonly used on the continent today. Its appearance was strange, and he could not even tell whether it was writing or pictures. It looked like little tadpoles clustered together.
Joey had merely acted on a whim and had not been particularly interested. But once the paper reached his hands and he saw the first character, he restrained himself.
He recognized this writing. It was a script unique to his own civilization.
Rather than rushing to read the rest, he steadied his emotions, then slowly spoke:
"This manuscript is quite good. You may collect more things like this in the future. I will give you something appropriate in return. This is the principle of equivalent exchange."
Clyde was delighted, pleased that his risky attempt had paid off.
As expected, he was an ancient god from a bygone era, interested in these old objects.
Although he also wanted to exchange it for an Angel's Blessing, there was something else he wanted to know more urgently.
He then spoke humbly:
"Mr. Hermit, I would like to know about what is happening at sea."
Shrouded in gray fog, Joey frowned slightly. He rested his chin on one hand and held the papers in the other. To everyone else, he appeared to be reading intently.
In truth, he was panicking.
The sea?
What was happening at sea? How would I know?
Urge a deity to hurry? Even another god would not dare behave so rudely. Clyde could only wait in silence.
Helena was curious about what was on those papers that could interest Mr. Hermit.
She lost the desire to share the information on mysterious incidents she had prepared beforehand. The Hermit seemed to prefer Clyde's offering.
Joey was feeling very anxious when 0-013 suddenly began turning its pages beside him. It seemed quite interested in the writing.
Right! If I can't solve a problem, I can pass it on. Whether that problem gets solved has nothing to do with me, the Hermit. Deities are fickle, after all. With an idea in mind, Joey answered in a deep voice:
"Perhaps you could ask it that question."
So that book really is the object from the rumors. I've actually seen the legendary Book of Prophecy! This is incredible. Praise Mr. Hermit! Suppressing his excitement, Clyde bowed respectfully and said softly, "Praise you, Mr. Hermit."
0-013 floated in front of Clyde.
"I would like to know what major events have happened at sea recently."
Tap, tap, tap!
A passage soon appeared on 0-013's page.
'A Mermaid Princess has been born in Siberia.'