Chapter 37

115

There were twenty-eight minutes left until Roselle's death.

The closer the moment of death drew, the more precisely his authority sensed its timing. In high spirits, the Monarch of Decay headed toward the murder scene and encountered an Adam along the way.

Apparently, there were always surprises. Although he had firmly decided not to help Roselle and intended only to watch the emperor's downfall from a premium seat with popcorn in hand, someone still refused to believe him. The Monarch of Decay took a couple of steps through the familiar mirrored gallery of the White Maple Palace and the familiar royal council chamber, but the distance to the next pillar remained unchanged. He simply stopped where he was and waited for the person who had specifically come to ambush him.

The tide of the age has already decided that Roselle must die. And you, the Devil lurking beside the True Creator, waiting for your chance to act, won't get out alive either!

The words popped into his mind unbidden. That tone made their source obvious. Adam hadn't appeared in person; instead, his image emerged in the nearest mirror. This was one of the reasons the Monarch of Decay disliked him. He always wanted to be the mastermind behind the scenes, always wanted to profit by remaining hidden while his opponents stood in the open. Did he really think he was the only Spectator in the audience, free to watch everyone fight onstage while wearing that innocent, punchable smile? Nothing came that easily. He might as well go be the High-Dimensional Overseer.

The Monarch of Decay quietly watched his performance, wary, but not entirely so. He dutifully made a trace of unease appear on Edward's face. He glanced around. The royal council chamber and mirrored gallery had fallen apart, leaving black earth beneath a red sky, as though this were the Abyss. Presumably, this was a sea of consciousness. Adam was shrewd, after all.

Suddenly, his expression shifted slightly. He discovered faint traces of familiar, dim starlight showing through the dark red sky-this was actually his own sea of consciousness! Adam had infiltrated his mind to kill him!

It had been a long time since he had met anyone so eager to die.

"You look more trustworthy than Farbauti. Clearly, you're also more cunning and treacherous than he is." Adam's eyes turned gold, and his voice rumbled through the air, carrying a powerful brainwashing effect and mental suggestion. "The Devil Pathway isn't suited to producing a true god. Chained would be a better choice. Since you seem unwilling to switch pathways, I'll be taking your characteristic."

Contrary to his usual behavior, Edward said nothing. His expression gradually shifted from caution and a faint hint of madness to grim impatience.

"This is my sea of consciousness."

"You got in this easily? Are you Adam's actual Sequence 1 body? Ah, just a virtual persona carrying a Sequence One characteristic."

"I..."

"I haven't given you permission to speak yet."

The world of consciousness often represented the truth hidden beneath the surface. So his behavior all this time really had been nothing more than acting. Was this his true personality...? Adam's calm expression suddenly cracked. Something other than "innocence" and "simplicity" appeared in his pure golden eyes-the black fog permeating the consciousness dispersed, the dark red sky turned pitch-black, and the earth and mountains crumbled into dust. The Abyss on the surface of the sea of consciousness collapsed. As the curtain lifted, an extinguished sun, a crimson moon, countless stars, and galaxies appeared one after another. What unfolded before him was an endless universe!

The cosmos!

It was actually the cosmos!

Why would an Angel born on Earth know about the extinguished sun and the cosmos? There was only one possibility: he was a Believer of an Outer Deity, or even-

He saw an enormous face that nearly filled his entire field of vision, while he himself stood in its palm. No, that wasn't a face. It was a "head" formed from countless intertwined vines growing in twisted shapes like fleshy sprouts. Nor was he standing on a palm, but on a mass of gnarled, twisted roots that slowly writhed! Eyes grew at the ends of some of the vines, and every one of them regarded him with the same indifference! Yet his vision blurred, and Adam saw only a nearly human face before him again. A miscalculation. A complete miscalculation. This was no defenseless Sequence 2 Devil, but a Great Old Dominator who had descended upon the earth! He knew this virtual persona could never leave alive and began considering how to transmit the information to his main body. But the words that followed interrupted his thoughts:

"This is my sea of consciousness. Now that you're here, don't even think about escaping."

The Monarch of Decay looked listless, exuding an air of complete disinterest in everything. "Your main body won't receive any of this avatar's memories. Two assassination attempts, three manipulations, and you even stole the Devil Card to hold me in check. I've put up with you for a long time, Adam. Your death won't be an easy one."

116

"Here's your ticket. Please keep it safe."

"Thank you."

I took the ticket from the clerk and looked it over. It was fairly well made, with gold-stamped levers and gears printed on it. This Roselle Memorial Exhibition was organized by the Church of Steam and Machinery and advertised as the largest exhibition with the most comprehensive collection of exhibits in the Loen Kingdom. The tickets were relatively cheap, though, at only half a pound, and there was no separate VIP entrance. It was aimed at the middle class, after all.

It was scheduled for the sixteenth, next Tuesday. There was plenty of time.

Under the influence of my leaking spirituality, the small amount of corruption carried by the True Creator randomly spawned other curses. With my deliberate guidance, it developed into the fifth curse, "Soul Decay." Well, memories would disappear in fragments, spiritual power would weaken, and the physical body would be downgraded along with them. But since he was only around Sequence 7 now, the effects weren't apparent. After all, if any abnormalities appeared immediately, the Anomalous Aurora would definitely notice, and he might even realize there was a problem himself. A subtle, gradual influence like this attracted less attention.

I had nothing else to do anyway. I had no direct conflict with the Church of Steam and Machinery, and this time, I had no intention of casually robbing them while I was there. I still hadn't finished the two volumes of Roselle's Diary at home, and I hadn't found any valuable information in them. Although they mentioned the Cards of Blasphemy, Bethel Abraham, and the cosmos here and there, it was mostly things I already knew.

That little Seer seemed to have excellent luck, finding quite a few passages that were useful to him. But where did he get his connections? Surely he couldn't collect a huge quantity of useless diary entries all by himself and extract the information he needed? He didn't look like someone from a secret organization, either.

The Secret Order?

But surely the Secret Order wouldn't send a member who was only Sequence 8 to a foreign country to assassinate Lanevus alone.

No, it was hard to say. I had heard that Antigonus's notebook had slipped out because of negligence by members of the Secret Order in Loen. For an item that important to be lost through a "mistake" felt rather unbelievable.

I put the ticket away and felt bored again, so I considered whether to visit Miss Fors and give her a surprise inspection.

117

Klein leisurely took an afternoon nap, but before long, he was awakened by illusory, overlapping prayers that grated on his nerves.

A man? Mr. Hanged Man or little Sun? Is one of my potion's main ingredients finally coming? Klein listened carefully for a few seconds, promptly forgot his anger at being disturbed, and quickly got out of bed. He took four steps counterclockwise and entered Above the Gray Fog. Discovering that the Crimson Star representing the Hanged Man was contracting and expanding, he extended his hand and reached out to touch it with his spirituality.

After the customary honorific name of the Fool, the Hanged Man prayed:

"...I've gathered the Evil-Patterned Black Panther's spinal fluid and the marrow crystal of the Elven Spring. Please permit me to hold a sacrificial ritual and pass them on to Mr. World."

That was quick... The Hanged Man said there would be a gathering of pirates soon. Apparently, it isn't soon, but right now... He always holds something back when he speaks, never giving the whole truth... Klein nodded almost imperceptibly.

"You may."

After a simple sacrificial ritual, Klein felt considerably happier as he admired the two Beyonder ingredients resting on the Bronze Long Table.

As for the other supplementary ingredients, he had already purchased them from different shops. Sun Derrick hadn't kept Klein waiting long, either. On Wednesday evening, he prayed softly, telling Mr. Fool that he had prepared the True Root of the Mist Treant and its sap, and asking him to pass them on to World.

Simply looking at them filled Klein with a sense of accomplishment and ambition.

In the present age, Sequence 7 was the threshold of Mid-Sequence. It meant that a Beyonder would finally move beyond being only somewhat stronger than ordinary people in certain respects and gain a relatively rich array of supernatural abilities!

Whew... Klein slowly exhaled and returned to his bedroom. By summoning himself, he brought the Beyonder ingredients into the real world.

He hadn't prepared any additional vessels. With a Clown's control over his body, making a mistake would be extremely difficult.

He added the Evil-Patterned Black Panther's spinal fluid and the True Root of the Mist Treant one after another. Amid a teeth-grating noise, pale white mist abruptly rose, only to be forcibly dragged back into the iron pot by an invisible force.

Once everything settled down, Klein hurriedly poured out the liquid, transferring every last drop into the transparent glass bottle he had prepared earlier. The liquid was quite unusual, as though fireworks were constantly bursting within it. Red, orange, yellow, green, and other colors spread outward, vanished, and appeared again.

This was the Magician potion!

Klein held a one-pound gold coin between his left thumbnail and index finger, flicked it upward with a ring, and opened his palm to catch it.

Smack! The coin landed portrait-side up, indicating affirmation!

By then, night had fallen, and the gas lamp in the room had yet to be lit. Everything around him was dark. Klein sat down on the sofa and used meditation to calm the agitation in his heart, briefly distancing himself from all his emotions.

After doing all this, he raised the glass bottle, tilted his head back, and drank the Magician potion.

The icy potion flowed down his throat, countless bubbles bursting all the way.

As Klein experienced the sensation, a massive stream of information suddenly flooded his mind, exploding into one firework after another. The veins on his forehead bulged, and his head felt as though it were about to split apart and burst!

"Hornacis... Flegrea... Hornacis... Flegrea... Hornacis... Flegrea..."

The ethereal, illusory temptation echoed once more. Klein's head expanded and contracted, contracted and expanded, until he gradually regained his thoughts. He began consciously restraining them and visualizing a sphere of light, moving toward a meditative state bit by bit.

Klein sat on the sofa in the darkness, leaning forward and watching the abnormalities in his arms warily, as though monsters were gestating within them.

A few minutes later, everything finally returned to normal. Klein sighed silently. Good thing nobody came knocking or ringing the bell just now... I only chose to advance after fully digesting the Sequence 8 potion, and there were still such severe residual effects. Beyonders who rely on time to wear them down must find this hurdle incredibly difficult to overcome.

No wonder the captain took nine years...

No wonder Swain, the owner of the Evil Dragon Bar and former captain of the Mandated Punishers, never dared to take the Sequence 7 Seafarer potion...

After sitting quietly for another dozen seconds, Klein slowly stood up.

At this moment, he was a Mid-Sequence Beyonder.

At this moment, he was a Magician.

TBC

I realized there hasn't been much end-of-chapter rambling lately.

Then let me stab Decay in the back: he's a man of few words, but a real trash-talker.