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Chapter 1112: One Trouble After Another
Circle of Inevitability

Hearing Edefana's words, Madam Magician froze for a moment.

She finally realized she should be using her high-speed Blinking to support other battlefields.

That was something she normally would have done.

From the very beginning, I've been subtly influenced? Edefana doesn't seem to be just Sequence 2. Madam Magician quickly followed her spiritual intuition, her figure Blinking rapidly as she appeared in various places across the Northern and Southern Continents.

Then, she found that the battlefields were stabilizing, with the forces of the orthodox Churches and government organizations gaining the upper hand. The only difference was how quickly they would eliminate the disruptors.

The only area with serious issues was beyond her ability to intervene or participate.

It was far too high-level!

While helping allied forces quickly clear out cultists, she redirected most of her attention back to Miss Audrey's dreamscape.

At this moment, Edefana, the ancient dragon, had stopped fighting and landed on the stone tower deep within the dreamscape.

Madam Justice had also reverted from her Mythical Creature form, gazing at Edefana. In Dragonese, she asked, "A normal Sequence 2 dragon couldn't survive from the mid-First Epoch to the present?"

Edefana's terrifying lizard-like face, its gray-white scales slightly dim, revealed an eerily human smile.

"Even Angels have a limited lifespan: it's just that most Angels don't live long enough to reach it.

"Vampire is a pathway that significantly increases lifespan. Didn't Round Moon Olmer have to seal Himself in a coffin, trying to slow the passage of time? He's also a Sequence 2 Angel, and nearly two thousand years younger than me."

Madam Magician flickered rapidly, ready to prevent Edefana from escaping, while muttering inwardly. Two thousand years older than Duke Round Moon Olmer? Truly worthy of being a dragon born in the mid-First Epoch…

Initially, she thought Duke Round Moon's age exceeded 3,000 years. After gaining more knowledge of mysticism, she suspected the Sanguine duke could be over 5,000 years old!

The Fifth Epoch was currently in its 1,359th year, and the Fourth Epoch lasted 1,233 years, adding up to 2,592 years. Duke Round Moon existed before the Cataclysm, so He was widely believed to be over 3,000 years old.

Madam Magician confirmed that this duke had truly followed the Sanguine's ancestor, Lilith, so His age must include the 1,086 years of the Third Epoch.

Moreover, Lilith's "demise" wasn't the hallmark event marking the end of the Second Epoch, being 800-900 years apart, during which Olmer followed Her for several centuries.

Considering all this, Madam Magician estimated Duke Round Moon to be at least 5,000 years old. Even as an Angel of the long-lived Sanguine, He still had to live an abject life in a coffin to prolong His life.

Yet Edefana claimed to be almost two thousand years older?

That aligned with His self-introduction as a dragon born in the mid-First Epoch.

Madam Justice discerned the unspoken meaning in Edefana's words and probed, "You were once corrupted by a power higher than your own, and even now, it controls you?"

If Edefana had used a Marauder pathway's Sealed Artifact to siphon life or relied on a similar method, He wouldn't have posed such a question.

Edefana's aged, lizard-like face appeared somewhat dazed.

"You're perceptive.

"I am a dragon of the mind domain."

Which means..., polluted by the Chaos Sea? Like the Dragon of Imagination, Ankewelt? Then influenced and driven by the godhood of the Primordial God Almighty? Madam Magician's gaze sharpened. "It was the Primordial God Almighty who sent you to delay us?"

Edefana chuckled, producing a deep, buzzing laugh.

"Yes, I'm able to tell you this because the influence he exerted over me has rapidly receded. Without His influence, I will soon age and die."

"Rapidly receded?" Madam Justice repeated, her tone heavy with foreboding.

Edefana unfurled His massive wings, His gray-white scales dimming further.

"Yes. He is retracting the powers he was covertly reviving. This isn't due to any mishap but because He is concentrating His will.

"Tonight, he has two opportunities for true resurrection-two!"

Edefana's voice brimmed with fear.

…

When the mirrored Creator's soul fragments, mixed with Jenna's, fused into Lumian's body, Lumian, tormented by the relentless cycle of pain and madness, his consciousness on the brink of collapse, suddenly ceased the unconscious twitching and twisting of his head.

His iron-black eyes became filled with violent emotions:

Jenna...

He wanted to stop struggling, to let the collapse happen, but he also understood why Jenna had become what she was.

He raised his head, letting out a pained roar.

It was a scream of anger, hatred, madness, and defiance.

At that moment, Lumian seemed to hear Aurore's gentle voice: "There's still a chance.

"Leave it to me."

Lumian seemed to see Aurore's phantom, cloaked in her thick golden hair.

His body began to change, becoming more feminine on one side.

His feminine aspect grew active, striving to merge Jenna's soul fragments with his own.

The mirrored Creator was truly Fooled, no longer caring about Jenna's soul fragments, allowing them to detach and integrate into Lumian's feminine side.

His consciousness focused solely on the Demoness of Apocalypse, Cheek, and the Giant Queen, Omebella.

They were fused together.

Balance was restored, but it was vastly different from before.

Lumian's body stopped collapsing, quickly expanding outward, gaining new life.

The two masses of flesh protruding from his torso surged toward his neck, vying to replace his head.

They competed, even as they began to fuse, High above, in the infinite heights, the faint light door tinged with bluish-black and surrounded by gray- white fog reappeared. Mr. Fool alternated the use of Fooling and Grafting.

The two fusing flesh masses abruptly shifted to Lumian's left shoulder, writhing as they formed a dripping wet head.

This head had two faces, one on each side. The right face was identical to the Primordial Demoness, Cheek - stunningly beautiful, pure, yet exuding maternal radiance. The left face resembled Alista Tudor but bore jet-black hair and a flawless, nearly divine beauty.

The madness and characteristics in Lumian's body converged into this head. Each face exuded its own raw, violent, or pathological nature, an unrestrained desire to destroy and create everything.

The two faces did not cease merging. At times, they overlapped; at times, they split apart, ultimately forming a vortex that absorbed their features.

From within the vortex, a liquid containing all colors and possibilities seeped out, leaving the face in chaos.

Deep within the chaos, a new face slowly began to take shape.

The previously grinning, observing Primordial Demoness, Cheek, abruptly retreated, disappearing from the area.

Before vanishing, Her black hair fully unfurled, thick and slick like venomous snakes, whipping furiously through the air as though resisting an unseen force.

Lumian, his mind flooded with pain, madness, and destructive desires, sensed an exalted consciousness, gazing down upon all, being born within the new head on his left shoulder and rapidly growing stronger.

Mr. Fool, witnessing this, prepared to use a Wish to suppress and delay the Primordial God Almighty's resurrection, seeking time to find a solution.

The new face in the chaos grew clearer.

In an instant, Amon hurled an object into the special mirror world, landing it in Mr. Fool's hand.

It was an extraordinarily bizarre dark-golden mask, large enough to cover a human face.

Lumian, his face twisted in agony and madness, recognized the mask.

It had been obtained from the sea prayer ritual, originating from Loki, later given to the Aurora Order.

And now, it was here.

Mr. Fool caught the mask, and a shadow from the faintly visible door of light above descended upon the dark-golden mask.

Mr. Fool pressed the mask onto the new face emerging from the chaos.

The face did not resist or stop him because, still unresurrected, He had been Fooled-Fooled into believing the mask would make Him unimaginably powerful.

The dark-golden mask merged seamlessly with the face, becoming inseparable.

The head paused, no longer absorbing Lumian's madness or characteristics.

The two faces reappeared on its sides-one belonging to Primordial Demoness Cheek, radiating maternal brilliance, the other to the more handsome and perfect Alista Tudor.

Each face held an unmistakable hint of madness and destruction.

The gray-white fog and the bluish-black-tinged door of light high above disappeared.

On Lumian's right shoulder, flesh writhed, abruptly forming a new head with two faces. One was the radiant Aurore, the other, the exquisite Jenna. Both had closed eyes, no consciousness, and bloodstained features.

Elsewhere in the mirror world.

Red Angel Medici, intending to leave without bothering with the two lunatics, sensed the changes deep within the special mirror world.

Here's the chance!

Though Medici didn't fully understand what had occurred, He hesitated not for a moment. Swiftly assessing the situation, He made His decision and prepared to execute His original plan.

He had two goals today. One was to suppress any signs of Primordial God Almighty's resurrection otherwise the balance that the "Eternal Blazing Sun" had finally achieved would be broken, and second was to cull Lumian Lee, securing ultimate victory in the battle for 0-01.

He had no fear of The Fool's interference. Since He dared to come, He had a way to ensure The Fool couldn't act in time.

Red Angel Medici advanced, retrieving lifelike metallic soldier figurines from a small black pouch at His waist.

Each one contained fused Beyonder characterístics from different pathways, effectively making them Sealed Artifacts.

Medici scattered the figurines, allowing them to grow enormous, gain life, and surround Him.

The Red of War legion reappeared.

Meanwhile, within the astral world composed of abstract concepts and strange symbols.

The childlike doodle sun had long become a blazing golden-yellow fireball, terrifying in its intensity, opposing the crimson round moon beyond the invisible barrier.

The burning surface of the sun, pure and sacred, suddenly darkened in patches.

These dark patches extended outward, forming a colossal luminous humanoid figure surrounded by chaos.

The luminous humanoid instantly descended into the depths of the special mirror world, engulfing all of The Fool's manifestations!

***

Thanks to the users "Максим Довбняк", "TempestUknow" for the chapters provided!

Circle of Inevitability
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  1. Offline
    Frosted Moon Cake
    Frosted Moon Cake
    + 3 ⋅ 0 -
    Damn, all this comments about future chapters! Are there any from this one at all?

    He had been Fooled-Fooled into believing..


    lol I know the dash mean a pause in the sentence or whatever but I first read fooled-fooled as one word and found it quite funny.

    I wonder how Lumian's honorific name will change. 7 bodies in one or something? Haha
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  2. Offline
    Максим Довбняк
    Максим Довбняк
    + 22 ⋅ 0 -
    link to the channel in my profile description

    Chapter 1126: The Future


    As Naboredisley departed, Franca descended from the second floor, immediately asking Lumian, "What did He want from you?"

    "Self-preservation," Lumian replied succinctly.

    Franca's thoughts raced as she speculated aloud, "You're not connected to either the Abyss or the Chained pathways. How could He use you to save Himself?"

    "By leveraging my deep secret deed with the peak powers of the Calamity pathways," Lumian answered, the central head on his shoulders smiling. "Don't ask for details."

    "I get it. I'm not an Angel yet," Franca quipped, self- mocking.

    Looking at Lumian, she mumbled, "Honestly, do I really have to wait for the final showdown to find the opportunity to complete the ritual to advance as a Demoness of Catastrophe?

    "No alternatives in the meantime?"

    Lumian considered this seriously before answering. "The advancement ritual is to 'create a disaster that affects an entire continent as a participant and advance amidst it.' The word 'participant' means you don't need to be the instigator-contributing to a small part of the disaster is enough. 'Affecting an entire continent' is a vague description. Continents vary in size, population, and significance. What kind of continent would fulfill the requirements?

    "My personal understanding is that this equates to 'a disaster with a wide-reaching impact, involving hundreds of cities or settlements, and causing significant damage.'

    "From that perspective, there's an upcoming disaster that fits the criteria."

    Franca's eyes lit up. "What disaster?"

    She immediately followed up, "Is it related to your plans against the Primordial Demoness?"

    Lumian nodded. "Yes. We're about to bring a disaster to the Demoness Sect. This will take place outside the protected zones. If I succeed, it will inevitably involve the fall of the Primordial Demoness.

    "As you've seen, the fall of the Eternal Blazing Sun had global repercussions. Many witnessed it firsthand. Even now, there's no sun in the World of Ruins; the rebirth forces of the Great Mother maintain nature's cycle. Referring to that example, if the Primordial Demoness perishes, it's highly likely to trigger a disaster that affects the entire world, which would fulfill the ritual's requirements.

    "After all, the protected zones have the power of two existences to block the disaster. The Western Continent is sealed off by the Celestial Worthy, and the living beings still active in the World of Ruins are either the Mother's followers or outcasts like cultists and high-ranking members of the Demoness Sect. It's fitting for them to suffer."

    "Hmm, my fight against the Demoness of Black and other Saint-level witches qualifies me as a participant," Franca agreed, then self-deprecatingly added, "A few years ago, when I first became a Witch, I never imagined that my advancement ritual would involve the fall of the Primordial Demoness..."

    Back when she'd just become a Witch - or even when she became Unaging - she wouldn't have dared to think this far.

    Lumian continued, "Let's go visit Ma'am Hermit."

    …

    The deep blue sea stretched out as the crimson moon replaced the setting sun, bringing darkness in its wake.

    The Future-flagship of the Queen of Stars, Cattleya - sailed silently across the waves, as if in slumber.

    As Lumian and Franca's figures emerged on the deck, a sailor approached with a bright smile, saying, "The captain asked me to bring you to her quarters."

    "She foresaw our arrival?" Franca asked in surprise, glancing at the dark gold mask on the head over Lumian's left shoulder.

    Wasn't it said that true gods and most great existences couldn't foresee this head's actions?

    The sailor, still smiling, responded to Franca's question.

    "The captain foresaw your arrival."

    Fine, that's on me... Franca muttered inwardly.

    Only then did she notice something peculiar about the sailor: a massive, red-and-white mushroom grew on his head, large enough to serve as an umbrella. The mushroom's roots seemed to pierce into his scalp and skull, while two tentacle-like appendages dangled from the mushroom, resting on the sailor's shoulders.

    Suddenly, a name flashed through Franca's mind: Li Keji!

    No, in the outside world, he was respectfully known as the Great Druid Frank Lee!

    "Is that the latest type of mushroom?" Lumian asked, pointing to the sailor's head as they followed him toward the cabins.

    The sailor beamed. "Yes, its tendrils can extract moisture from the air and turn it into milk. It can even continuously fish to provide protein.

    "It's in symbiosis with me now, supplementing my body as needed."

    As he spoke, the mushroom's cap and stem extended their tendrils outward into the air.

    At the same time, the sailor grabbed one of the tentacle-like appendages draped over his shoulder and stuffed it into his mouth, sucking enthusiastically.

    Milk trickled from the corner of his mouth, only to be reabsorbed by the tendrils.

    "See? This way, I'll never go thirsty. No matter where I am, I'll never go thirsty! Haha, I'll never go thirsty!" The sailor laughed spiritedly.

    Damn, has he been corrupted by Frank Lee, or has he been mutated by the Great Mother? Franca suddenly began to understand why Bella, who cared for Jenna's brother, was so terrified of being sent back to the Future.

    Following the sailor, they entered the cabin. As they passed the staircase to the lower levels, he suddenly lowered his voice and spoke in a secretive, fearful tone, "Never go down there."

    Franca nodded quickly, taking his advice without question.

    When they reached the captain's quarters, the sailor knocked, waited for permission, and then opened the door, gesturing for them to enter.

    Lumian and Franca walked in side by side. Standing by the window, dressed in a black warlock's robe and wearing thick glasses, Ma'am Hermit Cattleya greeted them with a gentle smile and a nod, "Good evening, Mr. Chariot, Ms. Two of Cups."

    "Good evening, Ma'am Hermit," Lumian and Franca replied politely.

    Franca glanced at the now-closed door to the captain's quarters and hesitantly asked.

    "Ma'am, shouldn't you address the mushroom experiments being conducted on crew members? That sailor wasn't a criminal or a prisoner of war-he was a legitimate sailor."

    The Hermit Cattleya paused for a moment before explaining, "In reality, it isn't so. What you saw was an illusion.

    "An illusion?" Franca asked in surprise.

    "In the protected zone, certain wild, unrestrained ideas can influence those nearby, creating surface-level abnormalities. In reality, that sailor doesn't have a mushroom growing on his head," Ma'am Hermit explained before adding. "Even for criminals and prisoners of war, unless they're beyond redemption, I don't let Frank experiment on them. At most, they're required to observe his experiments periodically."

    Well done! Franca wanted to applaud Ma'am Hermit.

    Understanding the nature of the protected zones, she found it easy to grasp Ma'am Hermit's explanation.

    With a smile, Lumian said, "Ma'am, I'd like you to use Cheek's face on my left shoulder to divine Her whereabouts."

    "Alright." Ma'am Hermit didn't ask further, removing her heavy glasses.

    She was already a Sequence 2 Sage.

    In the early months after the protected zones were established, frequent disasters involving high-level powers occurred. Demigods were stretched thin trying to manage them. Most were resolved by Amon, while others were stopped by Archangels and Angels, or delayed until reinforcements arrived.

    These conditions had given Cattleya the opportunity to complete her ritual.

    She wasn't particularly happy about it-she would have preferred no such opportunity, for humanity to continue living normal lives outside the protected zones.

    The Hermit Cattleya's gaze shifted to the head on Lumian's left shoulder, but she didn't dare linger on the face adorned with the dark gold mask.

    The head on Lumian's left shoulder turned towards The Hermit Cattleya, radiating maternal radiance. Cheek's beautiful and exquisite face beamed with anticipation.

    The Hermit Cattleya's deep-purple, nearly black eyes turned abyssal, unfocused.

    Faint images flashed within the mercury-colored rivers appearing and vanishing.

    She abruptly tilted her head back as blood trickled from the corners of her eyes.

    In a distant, detached tone, she said, "I see you fighting Cheek in the primeval rainforest of the Southern Continent."

    "Thank you," Lumian said earnestly.

    He then said, "I'd also like you to contact Queen Mystic. I'd like her to perform a divination as well."

    "Alright," The Hermit Cattleya agreed, wiping the blood from her eyes. However, she asked in confusion, "Why did you ask me to divine?"

    Wouldn't it have sufficed to go directly to the Queen?

    Lumian chuckled.

    "For one, different people may see different visions during divination. By comparing them, we might glean additional information. Second, this helps you digest the Sage potion. If your divination ultimately leads to the fall of a Calamity-representing evil god, wouldn't that perfectly embody the essence of a Sage?"

    Ma'am Hermit remained silent for a couple of seconds before replying, "I'll contact the Queen soon to arrange a time and place, then inform you."

    "Alright, thank you." Lumian and Franca vanished from the captain's quarters.

    After watching them leave, The Hermit Cattleya didn't immediately put her heavy glasses back on. Instead, she gazed out at the deck.

    Gradually, the deck, the cabin, and the entire ship became illusory in her vision, fading rapidly. The surrounding deep-blue, near-black seawater also lost its color, revealing a murky quality.

    Within the murkiness, tens of thousands of overlapping human figures formed a massive sphere. Among them were the sailor from earlier and Cattleya herself, all with their eyes closed.

    Many similar human spheres floated densely in the depths of the murkiness.
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    1. Offline
      Kiber
      Kiber
      + 1 ⋅ 0 -
      Она их Запустила в анабиоз? treat
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      1. Offline
        Максим Довбняк
        Максим Довбняк
        + 12 ⋅ 0 -
        I don't fully understand how Mr. Fool and Adam protected humanity. Before this, I thought they protected the big cities of the physical world, hypnotized/fooled people so they wouldn't understand what was happening.

        Now it seems to me that this may not be the real world, but something like a dream, and real bodies in something similar to the cocoons of the Sefirah Castle. As far as I remember, Lugano saw his corpse in his "dream". Does this mean that the whole world was destroyed, and what remains is the machinations of the Fool and Adam (I think Amaniss is also involved) with the possibility of "resurrection/return" of everyone who was saved?

        I may have missed some points, since I have little time to read now.
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        1. Offline
          Tимофей Кыркелан
          Tимофей Кыркелан
          + 2 ⋅ 0 -
          If the world were destroyed, what would all the characters be fighting for? The outer Deities would plunder the Sefirots. Klein would have taken humanity to another world. Or he returned the Earth from the Historical Void. This could be the end of the book. Although the end is quite depressing and makes the reader feel fear and confusion...
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  3. Offline
    TempestUknow
    TempestUknow
    + 13 ⋅ 0 -
    1125 The Request






    Inside the luxurious villa where Lumian and his companions resided.

    Anthony openly observed Naboredisley, who was seated on the sofa diagonally across from him. He appeared exceptionally calm, neither anxious nor impatient, sipping His coffee gently.

    This was unlike the Devil pathway Beyonders Anthony was familiar with. Naboredisley's emotions were stable, His demeanor relaxed, and His normalcy gave off an air of abnormality.

    Gulp. Ludwig, seated next to Anthony, swallowed audibly.

    He, too, was scrutinizing Naboredisley, dressed in formal attire with a neatly tied bow tie.

    Naboredisley did not inquire about Lumian's return. Instead, He naturally engaged Anthony in casual conversation about the current state of the protected zones.

    After some time, the figures of Lumian and Franca appeared at the edge of the living room.

    Lumian instinctively glanced at Naboredisley, smiling without concealing his surprise.

    'I thought you'd been dragged back into the Abyss.'

    Naboredisley stood up and, unfazed, responded with a smile, 'My condition has actually improved.'

    'Isn't Earth Mother already asleep?' Lumian asked, sitting on another sofa.

    Franca sat close beside him, her expression tinged with curiosity.

    The ice-blue-eyed demon Naboredisley sat back down, His tone calm as He explained,

    'Before the descent of the crimson moon, another major event occurred, one you should remember—the consciousness of the Primordial God Almighty stirred, and His spirit became active.'

    'What does that have to do with your improved condition?' Franca asked inquisitively.

    Naboredisley smiled but gave no answer.

    Lumian glanced at Franca and then shifted his gaze toward Anthony and Ludwig.

    The others understood and tactfully left—Franca heading to the second-floor studio, Anthony to the kitchen, and Ludwig to the living room to handle matters of the Sick Church.

    Only then did Naboredisley smile and speak to Lumian. 'At that time, I, too, experienced the revival of the malicious consciousness and frenzied spirit of the Primordial God Almighty within me. To a certain extent, it balanced the corruption of the Mother Tree of Desire, allowing me to regain a semblance of peace.

    'Unfortunately, the revival of the Primordial God Almighty was short-lived, with His consciousness retreating to the Chaos Sea. He left only His malicious spirit, preventing a true balance. I remain unable to fully escape the control of the Mother Tree of Desire. However, my condition has relatively improved—I no longer rely on Lilith's aid. Maintaining even this state is difficult, though. Once the Mother Tree of Desire breaches or bypasses the astral world's barrier and descends into our world, the rope keeping me from falling further will snap immediately.'

    'You experienced the revival of the malicious consciousness and frenzied spirit of the Primordial God Almighty?' Lumian echoed, already guessing why.

    A faint smile played at the corner of the central head's mouth as he raised his right hand and flicked the forehead of the strange dark gold mask.

    With a clang, Naboredisley smiled with some appreciation in His gaze.

    'Yes. Others might not guess why, but you should find it obvious.'

    'This is because the Primordial God Almighty once accommodated the sefirah corresponding to the Chained and Abyss pathways—Tenebrous World.'

    'He even accommodated the 'Tenebrous World?' Lumian, though he had anticipated it, was still a little surprised.

    The Abyss pathway's Tenebrous World and the Sun pathway's Chaos Sea were fundamentally incompatible. Could they really coexist?

    Was the Primordial God Almighty already mad, unable to suppress His instinct to converge?

    Did He first accommodate the City of Calamity?

    In a reminiscent tone, Naboredisley continued, 'Before the First Epoch, in a more ancient age, there was a myth: the God Almighty of Heaven created a divine child. Several Angels, led by an Archangel, rebelled. They were defeated, cast into the Abyss, creating Hell, and turning them to devils.

    'I've studied the honorific names within the Sick Church. I believe you've heard this myth.'

    'I have,' Lumian replied calmly.

    Naboredisley nodded slightly. 'According to what I know, this myth may never have actually occurred. Instead, it represents a tendency—a connection between Heaven and the Abyss. Thus, when instinct drives convergence, that deity might prioritize such associations.

    'This is also consistent with mysticism. The phrase 'the degenerate nature of all living things' is undoubtedly familiar to you. The Abyss has two entrances—one in the Sunken Continent of the real world and another within the depths of every human heart, in their propensity to degenerate.'

    'No wonder your condition improved after Earth Mother fell asleep,' Lumian said with a slight nod.

    Then he asked, 'Are you also a remnant of a previous epoch?'

    Franca had speculated about this before, noting how many of Farbauti's aliases resembled the names of great devils in ancient myths.

    Naboredisley smiled and said, 'Suddenly, it was all gone—suddenly, only darkness.

    'When I recovered fragments of thought and memory, I was already a great devil. Those fragments were soon drowned out by madness and bloodlust, only returning near the end of the First Epoch.

    'The old age was utterly destroyed, leaving only us remnants.

    'Haha, for me, that was actually a good thing. I lived for thousands of more years. I ruled the Abyss and the land, enjoying everything denied to me in the old age.'

    Naboredisley laughed with wild abandon, unabashedly revealing His desires and malice—entirely different from His earlier calm demeanor.

    Perhaps this was His true nature.

    Lumian wasn't surprised. He waited for the Devil Monarch to finish laughing before asking, 'What do you want from me?'

    Naboredisley returned to His calm state and spoke earnestly, 'I'd like to ask for your help. If successful, my sealed Abomination avatar will die, and you may claim its resulting Beyonder characteristic as your own.'

    After the crimson moon's descent, most of the Southern Continent's inhabitants were also drawn into protected zones, including Abomination Farbauti hidden in the Dream Festival's grave.

    The indulgence faction of the Rose School of Thought and the adherents of the Primordial Moon mostly remained outside the protected zones, especially those with the corresponding pathway's Beyonder characteristics. Any cultists forcibly brought into the zones were eventually purged.

    'Quite generous. What's the matter?' Lumian smiled at Naboredisley.

    Naboredisley took a sip of coffee before answering, 'I intend to accomplish something on the Western Continent before the Mother Goddess of Depravity accommodates the Brood Hive and the astral world's barrier completely shatters.

    'Currently, only The Fool and you can help me.'

    'Me? I can't help you bypass the Celestial Worthy's seal,' Lumian questioned. 'Even Mr. Fool can't do that right now. To protect the Western Continent, he's strengthened the seal. Sending you through would require waiting for an opportunity—when the seal can be temporarily undone.'

    Naboredisley smiled and said, 'Thanks to Alista Tudor and Cheek's mad attempt, the secrets of the City of Calamity are now known. In your current state, you can perform a deep secret deed without relying on Their special corpse wax candles. That's equivalent to establishing contact with the Western Continent.

    'What I need you to do is this: When you next perform a deep secret deed, projecting your spirit and consciousness into the City of Calamity, take my mental imprint with you. You're bound to engage in a deep secret deed again, given your intention to accommodate the City of Calamity.'

    'Take your mental imprint… What's the point of that?' Lumian asked.

    He didn't refute Naboredisley's last statement.

    Naboredisley patiently explained, 'I need to establish a preliminary connection with the Tenebrous World.

    'Normally, this would be impossible. But the Primordial God Almighty once accommodated the City of Calamity. The two have mutually corrupted each other. Through the Tenebrous World's corruption within the City of Calamity, I can establish an initial connection.

    'This would benefit you as well. My mental imprint, fused with the Tenebrous World's corruption, would mitigate related risks when you accommodate the City of Calamity, reducing potential dangers to some extent.'

    'Would this let you become an Above the Sequences?' Lumian asked thoughtfully.

    Naboredisley shook His head. 'No, I lack the necessary Uniquenesses, and my current condition doesn't permit it.'

    He calmly added, 'However, I would be able to help the Tenebrous World manifest greater power.'

    Lumian nodded slightly, then smiled and asked Naboredisley, 'Do you think I'll agree?

    'Allowing a great devil's mental imprint into one's own mind and spirit is extremely dangerous.'

    A secret deed involved the union of consciousness and spirit with specific entities, unrelated to the physical body. Thus, in secret deed experiences, all items originated from the projection of one's spirit, not their actual counterparts. This meant Naboredisley could only participate in the secret deeds by placing His mental imprint within Lumian's soul, mind, and consciousness.

    Naboredisley met Lumian's gaze and replied with a smile, 'I think you will.

    'Because you and I are the same. In madness, we're most 'normal,' and in clarity, we're most insane.'

    Lumian laughed, and his laughter lingered for a long while.

    Finally, he restrained his smile and said to Naboredisley, 'Alright, I agree.

    'I'll inform you before I next perform a deep secret deed.'

    Naboredisley stood, satisfied, and extended His hand. 'Pleasure working with you.'

    'Pleasure working with you,' Lumian casually shook His hand.

    Taking His silk top hat, Naboredisley placed it atop His head and asked with a smile, 'Aren't you worried about creating such a devil could harm human society?'

    Lumian smiled and replied calmly, 'If we don't survive the apocalypse, there won't be any human society for you to harm. If we do survive and I'm about to perish, I'll drag you down with me.

    'If neither of those scenarios happens, either I or Mr. Fool will deal with you in the end—by killing, sealing, imprisoning, or banishing you.'

    Naboredisley wasn't surprised by this response.

    He smiled and sighed. 'Thank you for your honesty.'

    With His silk hat securely in place, He left the luxurious villa at a steady pace.
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    1. Offline
      Spectator_d
      Spectator_d
      + 6 ⋅ 0 -
      The last two paragraphs gave me a sense of deja vu.
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      TempestUknow
      TempestUknow
      + 5 ⋅ 0 -
      PGA was one greedy mf
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    Максим Довбняк
    Максим Довбняк
    + 27 ⋅ 0 -
    link to the channel in my profile description

    Chapter 1124: The Visitor


    "This damn book finally has some use," Lumian said, showing the contents of the Post-Apocalyptic Scripture to Franca and Anthony.

    Franca pondered for a moment before saying, "Given the nature of the Post-Apocalyptic Scripture, even if this prophecy is false, as long as we believe in it and prepare accordingly, it will eventually come true.

    "The question is, if it's a false prophecy, can it even affect a true god like the Primordial Demoness?"

    "I don't know," Lumian replied, shaking the central head of his three. "Anyway, we're not relying solely on this for predictions."

    "Then should we contact Ma'am Hermit now?" Franca suggested.

    In this matter, splitting up wasn't an option. The critical medium for prophecy or divination was Lumian's Cheek face-the Sequence 1 Beyonder characteristic of the Demoness of Apocalypse already integrated into his body.

    Lumian nodded at first, then gave a self-deprecating smile. "Not yet. The 'occasional' state is about to end."

    Franca pursed her lips, stood up, and said, "Then let's head outside the protected zone.

    "Anthony, you'll handle the matters of the Sick Church for now. You still have Ice Mirror Charms, right?"

    "I do," Anthony replied steadily.

    After Lumian and Franca left the villa, Anthony retrieved the mirror representing the Sick Church's pope from his Traveler's Bag. He reviewed the accumulated messages and replied to each one using the Ice Mirror Charm.

    Meanwhile, Ludwig sat on the sofa, eating roasted sweet potatoes while casually watching Anthony work.

    After a while, just as Anthony was about to put away the mirror, Ludwig suddenly asked, "Is human life always full of suffering?"

    Anthony lifted his head, looked into Ludwig's brown eyes, and nodded. "Yes."

    Ludwig continued, "If you had a chance to start over, would you still choose to be human?"

    "Probably," Anthony said with a small smile. "After all, I have no experience being another species."

    "But if human life is so full of suffering, why would anyone want to be human?" Ludwig asked, puzzled.

    Anthony thought for a moment before answering.

    "Most of humanity's suffering comes from the brevity of life and the frailty of our existence-from constantly thinking about these things. But if we stopped thinking, our existence would lose all meaning.

    "Perhaps it's precisely because life is short and fragile that we always want to do something, to create something. We have no choice but to rely on and help others. We huddle together for warmth, dream together, and create fragments of beauty. And because of that, we suffer.

    "A poet once said - I don't know who, but it wasn't Emperor Roselle. I wholeheartedly agree with what he said: 'If I have never felt pain in life, it means I have never truly loved my life'."

    Ludwig's face was filled with confusion.

    Anthony added calmly, "Pain comes from love and desire.

    "Words like beauty, hope, and yearning are like flames - they make humans feel pain, yet they also make us like moths drawn to the flame, burning brightly for a moment before turning to ashes.

    "Franca once told me that the fundamental tone of the universe is darkness. We short-lived humans exist to create moment after moment of light, generation after generation."

    Ludwig, chewing on a roasted sweet potato, earnestly summarized, "I still don't understand why."

    Anthony laughed.

    "Honestly, neither do I.

    "If someone claims to truly understand humanity and life, it means they don't understand it at all.

    "Perhaps it's precisely because we don't understand that life is so intoxicating."

    With that, he stood up and walked toward the edge of the living room.

    Ludwig didn't ask where Anthony was headed. He remained on the sofa, quietly repeating two words to himself, "Beauty... pain..."

    The young boy seemed to be pondering some philosophical question, muttering to himself, "These things aren't unique to humans..."

    After finishing his roasted sweet potato, Ludwig shook his head and picked up an Intis general education textbook from the coffee table.

    Flipping through it, he muttered, "Inefficient method of transmitting knowledge..."

    Outside the villa, Anthony strolled aimlessly along the shadowed streets, basking in the bright sunlight.

    For now, he had no main task.

    He was responsible for two things:

    First, managing the Sick Church's affairs when Franca was busy. He was effectively the pope, though he could tell Franca hadn't truly come to terms with Jenna's death. She still held onto the hope that Jenna might one day return, which made her reluctant to officially pass on the title of pope.

    Second, assisting the official Beyonders in identifying corrupted humans or latent anomalies via monitoring the sea of collective subconscious. The symbols and powers of the Great Mother had broken through the barrier. Even though She wasn't currently focused on the protected zones, Her influence naturally caused sporadic mutations, especially among Beyonders of the Planter and Apothecary pathways.

    As Anthony walked, he noticed a street musician performing in a small square. Many Trier citizens had gathered to listen, some even dancing joyfully.

    Anthony gazed at the scene, his expression turning adrift.

    He decided to treat himself better.

    The time to enjoy life before the apocalypse was growing shorter.

    He sat at an outdoor table at a café, ordered a strong cup of Intis coffee and a pork sausage, and let his thoughts drift while enjoying the music in the square. Occasionally, he'd cut a piece of sausage to eat or take a sip of coffee.

    The bright sunlight carried the heat of summer.

    Just as Anthony was about to leave, an elderly man in a worn blue military jacket and white trousers approached.

    The old man glanced around and saw that Anthony's table was the only one with an empty seat.

    Without hesitation, the man sat down and ordered a glass of Nepos liquor with tomato juice - a drink commonly referred to as "Harlot" in Trier's bars and dance halls.

    The white-haired man looked at a barricade in the corner of the square and said to Anthony, as if they were old acquaintances, "Don't you think Trier has changed? It's not as lively as it used to be."

    "What makes you say that?" Anthony, while already understanding his meaning, played along.

    The old man tapped his cane on the ground and said, "In the old Trier, there wasn't a year without some ambitious fellow planning a riot, no year without chases over barricades, gunfights, and thrown projectiles.

    "And now? The young people today have no vitality. They only dare to sneak around and pickpocket."

    This has to do with the unique nature of the protected zones. An individual's outburst might implicate thousands, so every individual in the protected zones has their subconscious minds subtly influenced, providing them guidelines on what and what not to do... But this can only decrease the Great Mother's influence the frequency of mutations-but can't eliminate them entirely... Anthony answered inwardly.

    "Did you participate in those street riots?" Anthony asked.

    The old man snorted, "When I was in the military, I was responsible for suppressing those riots and demonstrations. Overnight, they'd build up barricades and resist with everything they had-Molotov cocktails, makeshift weapons.

    "Later, I left the army, suffered injustice in Trier, and became a demonstrator myself…"

    The man reminisced about his past, speaking at length.

    Anthony didn't show the slightest impatience, treating it like reading a biography.

    After the man finished and began sipping his Nepos liquor mixed with tomato juice, Anthony asked, "Why did you join the military in the first place?"

    The old man laughed.

    "For wealth, women, and becoming an officer, of course!

    "I came from a poor background. Whether as a farmhand, shepherd, factory worker, or laborer, I couldn't make a living, let alone get rich. Joining the military at least gave me a chance-be it earning merits or looting corpses. At worst, I'd die early."

    The man looked at Anthony, "You were a soldier too, weren't you? You have the air of one."

    "Yes," Anthony admitted.

    The old man grinned. "And why did you join?

    "Surely it wasn't for wealth and women?"

    Anthony shook his head and redirected his gaze to the musicians and onlookers. He didn't answer.

    Draining his coffee before the man could ask further.

    Anthony stood up.

    Suddenly, a four-wheeled carriage stopped near the café.

    The carriage door opened, and an elderly man in a black suit with a dark tie and a half-height silk top hat stepped out.

    His neatly trimmed white sideburns framed a face with sharp features and icy blue eyes.

    Anthony immediately recognized that this elderly man had come for him.

    "Excuse me, are you Monsieur Anthony?" the man asked politely.

    His icy blue eyes were surrounded by faint but visible blood vessels.

    Anthony carefully replied, "I am. Who might you be, and what business do you have with me?"

    The elderly man smiled and said, "You may call me Naboredisley."

    Naboredisley? The suspected incarnation of one of the ancient gods-Devil Monarch? Anthony was taken aback.

    He recalled Lumian mentioning that Naboredisley's true body resided on Hanth Island, protected by Earth Mother to prevent full corruption from the Mother Tree of Desire. However, with Earth Mother now dormant, it was unlikely She could provide the Devil Monarch's avatar any further assistance.

    Lumian had speculated that Naboredisley might have been dragged into the Abyss and destroyed.

    Yet here he was, alive and seemingly well, in the protected zone!

    The icy-blue-eyed elder who self-proclaimed to be Naboredisley smiled and explained His purpose, "I wish to meet Monsieur Lumian Lee."
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    1. Offline
      Kiber
      Kiber
      + 0 ⋅ 0 -
      Автор вспоминает давних персонажей cutie
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    TempestUknow
    TempestUknow
    + 19 ⋅ 0 -
    1123 Raising the Banner






    Sensing the change in Lumian's aura, the scorched banner-like 0–01 reacted immediately, its bloodstained surface rippling violently.

    Deep within Lumian's heart, a surge of emotions such as terror, awe, and worship erupted. It felt as if the air above him transformed into a crushing mountain, an iron-forged hand pressing down on his head, forcing him to bow, break his spine, and bend his knees.

    Instinctively, he wanted to submit. Yet this submission wasn't merely spiritual but encompassed his mind, body, and soul. If he yielded, he would immediately become a puppet of 0–01, stripped of his own will.

    Lumian's body ignited in flames, his iron-black bones creaking and groaning under the strain.

    The blood-red mark on his brow glowed even brighter, instilling him with renewed courage. It kept his head upright, resisting the pressure.

    How could a Blessed of the City of Calamity submit to the Uniqueness of the Red Priest?

    Drawing on the essential power he had prayed for in advance, Lumian staggered yet resolutely ascended the mountain of corpses.

    Suddenly, Abscessed Hand Zedus—akin to a beautiful work of art—along with numerous steel puppets and undead soldiers, appeared before him. They formed a blockade, attempting to halt Lumian's advance.

    At the same time, the numerous darkened bloodstains on the scorched banner regained their vibrancy.

    This caused Lumian's three heads to feel an invisible force tearing at them, as if they were about to be ripped from his body along with their bloody spines.

    The head on Lumian's left shoulder turned abruptly, and Alista Tudor's face, now softer and more beautiful, gazed at Zedus.

    The puppet-like, blank-faced Abscessed Hand Zedus froze in place, motionless.

    He felt as if He were facing Himself.

    How could I be a traitor?

    How could I fight against myself?

    His confusion caused the steel puppets and undead soldiers following Him to stop as well.

    Just as 0–01 was about to issue new orders, Alista Tudor's face tilted upward and looked at the scorched banner.

    A resonance and recognition rippled through the void. The still-dormant 0–01, which was only acting reactively, suddenly calmed down.

    Lumian's figure vanished and reappeared in front of Deity's Fallen Banner—0–01's other name.

    He extended his right hand toward the iron-black flagpole.

    Instantly, his body began to rot. The violet flames and the intricate metallic bones entwined with runes deteriorated, dripping with vile yellow-green pus.

    His soul also began to die, his thoughts teetering on the brink of eternal slumber.

    The head on Lumian's left shoulder straightened, the chaotic vortex face turning toward 0–01.

    Decay, ruin, death, and eternal slumber—all of it paused momentarily, as though cowed by some force.

    Some of this power converged toward the vortex face, becoming a fraction of the infinite possibilities it embodied.

    Seizing the moment, Lumian grasped the ice-cold, sharp-edged flagpole.

    Before 0–01 could fully awaken, still partially sealed, Lumian transformed into a towering steel giant wreathed in violet flames and forcibly pulled the bloodstained, scorched banner from the mountain of corpses.

    Rumble!

    The entire City of Exiles shook violently, as though struck by the most catastrophic earthquake in human history. Buildings collapsed, and fissures swallowed countless prisoners who couldn't escape in time.

    Rumble!

    The wasteland surrounding the mountain of corpses, along with the entire underground mausoleum, crumbled toward the Salinger's Blood Banner in Lumian's hand. Entire sections slid into the void, a chaotic blackness where time and space twisted as if condensing into a singularity.

    The underground mausoleum was being destroyed, Morora was being annihilated—this was the mutated power caused by the Red Priest Uniqueness being corrupted by a tributary of the River of Eternal Darkness.

    This destruction was about to engulf Lumian and the 0–01 in his grasp.

    Caught in the chaotic space-time, Lumian couldn't escape. He stood atop the mountain of corpses, smiling as he raised the scorched, bloodstained banner like a soldier who had claimed the enemy's flag in battle.

    The next second, he pressed 0–01 against the vortex face of the head on his left shoulder, embedding it in the brow of that faceless, chaotic visage.

    0–01 trembled violently.

    Without fully awakening from its seal, Lumian had inserted it into the face with no eyes, nose, or mouth—a chaos vortex—right into the middle of the brows.

    Alista Tudor's face bellowed angrily, but He was powerless to snatch 0-01 from him.

    Lumian didn't allow 0-01—the charred, blood-stained banner—to fully merge with the face of chaos. It was only embedded—half inside, half outside.

    The liquid embodying all colors from the vortex seeped onto it. The collapse and destruction of the mausoleum and Morora slowed, and the vast wasteland haltingly stabilized, its descent into the void ceasing.

    Lumian placed the strange dark-gold mask back over the vortex face, shielding the unseeable god and covering 0–01.

    Above, grayish-white fog reappeared, with faint constellations shimmering in and out of view.

    Starlight descended, merging with the strange mask and completing the basic sealing process.

    Only 0–01 needed sealing, and only temporarily. There was no need to invoke the full power of Sefirah Castle as before.

    The vortex face had ceased changing—blocking Its unique properties and concealing Its form sufficed.

    When the mask was securely in place, the destruction of the mausoleum and Morora came to a complete stop. Parts of the city, already consumed by nothingness, began to repair. Collapsed buildings and rubble-strewn streets remained.

    Once time and space stabilized, Lumian teleported away from the mountain of corpses.

    Zedus and the other soldiers of 0–01 were sealed there, awaiting the day Lumian became the Red Priest to return to their ranks.

    Lumian appeared on a relatively intact street in the City of Exiles, Morora. Surveying his surroundings, he broke into a smile.

    High above, meteors streaked across the sky, blazing as they rained down upon the city.

    Rumble!

    Morora faced utter devastation. Its condemned prisoners finally met their apocalypse.

    Amid the thick dust and smoke raised by the falling meteors, Lumian's figure vanished.

    …

    Trier, inside the luxurious villa.

    Lumian's figure materialized in the center of the living room.

    'Did you get 0–01?' Franca, who had been waiting, asked with both concern and curiosity.

    Lumian chuckled. 'An item that was already sealed? Wouldn't it be easy?'

    'I doubt it was that simple. The Church of Knowledge couldn't effectively use it; they could only seal it. You must have prepared extensively to succeed,' Franca said skeptically.

    Lumian sank into a single-seater sofa, looking at Franca, Anthony, and Ludwig.

    'A bit. First, I went to the Forsaken Land of the Gods and 'visited' the one worshiped by the Aurora Order.'

    'And then?' Franca pressed.

    Lumian chuckled. 'Then I gave Him two punches.'

    'How is that preparation?' Franca exclaimed, caught between shock and amusement.

    He really went and punched Him twice?

    One punch was even on behalf of Red Angel Medici.

    Lumian responded with a smile, 'Don't ask about the rest.

    'Let's just say that with the apex power of the two Calamity pathways, Zedus's portion within me, Alista Tudor's face, and the unique properties of this head, I passed 0–01's trials and claimed this Grade 0 Sealed Artifact.'

    As he spoke, Lumian flicked the strange dark-gold mask.

    'What about 0–01?' Franca finally remembered to ask. 'You didn't accommodate it already, did you?'

    'Of course not,' Lumian replied with amusement. 'While many things no longer affect me, there's one rule I must follow—or rather, something I must respect before completing what I set out to do.

    'I can't disrupt the delicate balance of this body. If I were to accommodate 0–01 and Medici's Conqueror characteristics now, the balance of yin and yang would shatter instantly, and I'll be beyond saving. At that point, both the true gods and evil gods would have to face the monster They wouldn't like to see.'

    Franca was enlightened. 'You'll need to find Primordial Demoness Cheek first and acquire Her Uniqueness and Sequence 1 Beyonder characteristics.'

    'But the Primordial Demoness is still a true god, one that's free to act. The other true gods likely can't focus on dealing with Her,' Anthony voiced his concern.

    'Don't worry,' Lumian said with a smile. 'A destined messiah will lend a hand. For every sin committed, there's an equal redemption to be made.'

    'A temporary dual-path true god, combined with you as a King of Angels and the Tarot Club's Angels, does give us a shot,' Franca said, sitting up straighter, a fiery determination lighting her lake-blue eyes. 'Now the question is, how do we find Cheek?'

    Lumian's expression turned adrift, as though recalling something he deliberately avoided thinking about.

    He smiled again. 'Part of Cheek is within me. We share the strongest mystical connection. With it, we can ask Mr. Fool, the God of Knowledge and Wisdom, Queen Mystic, or Ma'am Hermit for effective prophecies or revelations.

    'And besides…'

    He pulled out the Post-Apocalyptic Scripture from his Traveler's Bag, laughing lightly.

    'Let's see what kind of prophecy this damn book will offer.'

    The ancient parchment book fluttered open in his hands.

    When Lumian stopped flipping, silvery mercury-like words rapidly appeared on the exposed page: 'Lumian Lee will encounter Primordial Demoness Cheek in the World of Ruin.'

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    Максим Довбняк
    Максим Довбняк
    + 24 ⋅ 0 -
    link to the channel in my profile description

    Chapter 1122: Choice


    At the bronze table, in the seat belonging to The Chariot.

    Light surged and solidified into Lumian's figure, bearing three heads.

    He looked toward the head of the mottled bronze table and said, "Mr. Fool, I've obtained the remaining Conqueror Beyonder characteristics from Red Angel Medici. I'd like to go to Morora as soon as possible."

    Mr. Fool gently nodded and replied, "You may go anytime. I will provide the necessary assistance."

    Lumian understood that the help Mr. Fool referred to wasn't about entering Morora but rather offering necessary aid in handling 0-01.

    Considering Mr. Fool was already maintaining the outer barrier in the astral world, reinforcing the Celestial Worthy's seal, and hiding the protected zones to sustain human society-tasks nearly impossible without the three Mysteries pathways' ability to divide attention - Lumian carefully added.

    "I'll do my best to handle it myself, but for that, I'll need to visit the Forsaken Land of the Gods first.

    "When the time comes, unexpected events may occur, so I'll need you to keep an eye on things in advance."

    "No problem," Veiled in gray fog, Mr. Fool calmly assured him.

    …

    On the peaks of the Forsaken Land of the Gods's endless mountains.

    Lumian's figure swiftly materialized, facing a man with silver hair cascading down His shoulders, clad in a linen robe, His features soft and graceful.

    "Angel of Fate Ouroboros?" the central head of Lumian spoke.

    The man, his expression gentle and tone indifferent, replied, "What do you want?"

    He did not deny being Ouroboros, the Angel of Fate, the King of Angels from ancient times.

    "I want to meet Grisha Adam, or Adam Grisha." Lumian said with a smile.

    The Angel of Fate Ouroboros stepped aside, revealing a massive cross behind Him. However, it was empty, devoid of any divine presence.

    "The Lord was, is, and ever shall be," Ouroboros declared devoutly. "If you cannot see Him, that is your own problem."

    Unaffected by the Angel of Fate's response, Lumian stared at the enormous cross and burst into laughter.

    "I bring a hope for saving the world. Will you meet with me or not?

    "As the most skilled Telepathist, you should know I'm not lying."

    From beneath the massive cross surged an ocean that seemed to encompass every color, engulfing the entire mountain range except for where Lumian and Ouroboros stood.

    On this chaotic "sea," a humanoid figure walked on the black void-like surface, seemingly connecting heaven and earth.

    The figure retained a human visage, His lower face covered with a fine golden beard. His golden eyes were as pure as those of a newborn, but His body was no longer tangible, entirely composed of light and shadow.

    Trailing behind Him was a long black shadow, distinct from Him, bearing five heads. Behind His head rose a radiant golden sun.

    "I see Him," Lumian turned his head and smiled at Ouroboros.

    Then, he expanded his form into a towering steel giant wreathed in violet flames, smiling radiantly at Grisha Adam.

    "Before I share that hope, I'd like to punch you."

    Grisha Adam's baby-clear golden eyes remained unmoved. His majestic voice answered, "Okay."

    Lumian's expression turned cold.

    He teleported directly in front of Grisha Adam, clenched his left fist, and with violet flames blazing, struck the deity's right cheek with full force.

    With a resounding explosion, Grisha Adam's head tilted to the side, His cheek caved in, His mouth split, and His flesh torn.

    Lumian's right fist followed, its burning violet flames engulfing Grisha Adam's left cheek.

    Boom!

    Golden blood splattered, skull fragments shattered. and scorched marks spread everywhere.

    When Lumian had teleported in front of the deity, the Angel of Fate Ouroboros bowed His head, devoutly and humbly praying repeatedly.

    Retracting his fists, Lumian floated midair and arrogantly declared, "That punch was from Medici."

    He then gazed into Grisha Adam's eyes and mockingly added, "Don't get mad. This is a necessary sacrifice."

    Grisha Adam's golden eyes remained pure-without anger, resentment, mockery, or rebuke. They were so clear they reflected Lumian's image.

    The flames on His face continued to burn, His wounds unhealed.

    Lumian's smile gradually faded.

    After a few seconds of eye contact, he smirked and said, "That hope is..."

    He raised his right hand, pressing it against the peculiar dark-gold mask in the center of his left-side head, "I will remove this."

    Grisha Adam gazed at him warmly, neither questioning nor rushing him.

    Lumian continued, as if talking to himself, "This face should have originally belonged to the Creator, but after losing the balance and regaining balance via the addition of Mother's powers, it became the resurrection cornerstone for that Primordial God Almighty.

    "If I remove the Celestial Worthy's mask, something very interesting will happen."

    With a lighthearted tone, Lumian said to Grisha Adam, "The Primordial God Almighty's consciousness is competing with you for control of the Chaos Sea and this body. At this moment, if another resurrection opportunity suddenly appears, what will He choose?

    "If He diverts His focus to influence this head and face, symbolically, it would mean abandoning the contest with you. Your disadvantage would instantly reverse, giving you the upper hand. Perhaps then, we'll gain a new pillar-a pillar standing with us to face the apocalypse, greatly increasing our chances of survival.

    "If the Primordial God Almighty refuses to retreat or give up, the revival of this head and face will stagnate. Yet, their unique qualities will remain intact, and I can accomplish much with them. Hope for saving this world will arise from that-heh heh, well, maybe. Just maybe."

    Looking into Grisha Adam's golden eyes again, Lumian grinned, "I look forward to the Primordial God Almighty's decision."

    Without hesitation or delay, he pressed against the mask and pulled it off.

    From the mask's depths emerged a door of light tinged with faint bluish-black hues. It quickly detached and disappeared into the grayish-white fog that had unknowingly spread across the sky.

    In the next moment, Lumian removed the peculiar dark-gold mask.

    Beneath it was a vortex-like face-no eyes, nose, or mouth, no bones-composed entirely of a chaotic liquid embodying every color.

    Lumian eagerly observed the face, waiting for further changes.

    However, the chaotic vortex remained motionless, showing no sign of forming a normal face.

    The faces of Tudor and Cheek on either side of this head contorted slightly, as if experiencing some form of pain.

    Lumian clicked his tongue and said, "What a pity..."

    He made no effort to conceal his disappointment, turned around, and returned to the Angel of Fate's side.

    Behind him, the giant radiant figure sank slowly, its shadow with five heads and the golden sun disappearing into the Chaos Sea.

    Above him, the grayish-white fog in the sky gradually dissipated into nothingness.

    Lumian tossed the dark-gold mask into the air and caught it repeatedly, sighing as he looked at Ouroboros. "Why don't you pursue the President of the Life School of Thought?"

    Lumian's own face and the vortex-face simultaneously turned to Ouroboros.

    With a gentle expression and indifferent tone, Angel of Fate Ouroboros replied, "The opportunity has passed.

    "What remains now is waiting and choosing."

    Lumian chuckled twice and asked no further.

    Cheek's beautiful eyes, lovelier than sapphires, reflected a layered, ethereal, shadowy world.

    Lumian's figure vanished, flamboyantly traversing through the special mirrored world to the City of Exiles, Morora.

    Here, the seals indeed opened a gap for him.

    Lumian's feet landed on Morora's disaster-scarred streets. Among the potholes and ruins, he walked step by step toward the entrance of the underground mausoleum.

    His gaze swept casually, noticing how the grotesque residents of Morora tried to avoid him in terror upon seeing his three heads.

    However, they could not act on their thoughts. They were mesmerized by the maternal radiance emanating from Demoness of Apocalypse Cheek's stunningly beautiful face. Others, under the gaze of Blood Emperor Alista Tudor, lowered their heads and knelt, completely submissive. Some stared fixedly at the vortex face.

    Bang! Bang! Bang!

    Some burst into flames, others turned into mirrors. some grew dense fish scales, while others' skin cracked open, sprouting countless cold, emotionless eyes.

    They had gone mad, lost control, merely from gazing upon the vortex face.

    Don't look directly at God!

    Amid the outburst of violent, frenzied, and destructive emotions, Lumian walked step by step into the underground mausoleum.

    He arrived at a dark wasteland and stood before a mountain of corpses.

    He raised his head, looking at the flagpole, iron-black with scorched marks and numerous dangerous blood- red spots.

    0-01, Salinger's Blood Banner!

    Lumian smiled and "humbly" said, "Boss, I've come to see you."

    As soon as he finished speaking, bright red blood seeped from his brow, forming a blood-colored banner.

    He had completed his prayer, beseeching power from the Origins of Disaster, the Calamity of Destruction.

    He had become the priest of war and apocalypse, the embodiment of destruction and chaos.
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      TempestUknow
      TempestUknow
      + 4 ⋅ 0 -
      who knew ouroborous could have such aura while talking
      peak dialogue
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        Максим Довбняк
        Максим Довбняк
        + 10 ⋅ 0 -
        Cuttlefish can, when he wants...
        If there were more chapters like this with previous characters revealed over 1400+ chapters, there wouldn't be so much hate

        Now CF write about Ouroboros, Audrey and Emlin - as they are connected with the latest events. I hope the others will not remain in the background, we need the rest of the TC members, the angels of Mr. Fool and others
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      Максим Довбняк
      Максим Довбняк
      + 12 ⋅ 0 -
      By the way, I won't be too upset if Lumian dies at the end of the book, if Mr. Fool (For some reason it seems to me that he has already awakened, but as he said to Lilith - it is not yet time for action) and the others survive. Lumian has changed his worldview and is ready to protect the world for the people important to him, it will be a logical end for him. I just hope he can resurrect Jenna.
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        Doksoo
        Doksoo
        + 3 ⋅ 0 -
        +Aurora
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        Kiber
        Kiber
        + 1 ⋅ 1 -
        Люмиан уже стал Богом, так что воскрешение Авроры будет, это буквально его причина чтобы стать Богом номер 1 hokage
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    3. Offline
      Shinobi Demon
      Shinobi Demon
      + 2 ⋅ 1 -
      Я не совсем понял. Бог Всемогущий, решил воскреснуть в Адаме?
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      1. Offline
        Antygon
        Antygon
        + 0 ⋅ 0 -
        Yes
        Read more
  7. Offline
    TempestUknow
    TempestUknow
    + 17 ⋅ 0 -
    1121 Entrustment






    After Lumian recited Amon's current honorific name, a light full of redemptive power emerged from the void, from the River of Fate, condensing into the form of Amon, wearing a pointed soft hat and a monocle.

    Amon glanced left and right before smiling and saying, 'So, have you concluded your negotiations? Or would this be settled with a duel?

    'You Hunters really have patience. This matter, which should've been discussed last September, dragged on until now.'

    As He spoke, Amon lightly clapped His hands in mock applause for the patience of the two Hunters.

    Red Angel Medici sneered, 'You've changed pathways, yet you're still cawing like a raven.

    'Let's begin; don't waste any more time.'

    Stealing the highest Sequence Beyonder characteristics from another wasn't a simple task. Even if the target stopped resisting and actively cooperated, the process would still take significant time and carry a notable risk of failure. Moreover, it required an exceptionally high level of authority.

    After urging Amon, Red Angel Medici sat back down on His iron throne, leaned against the backrest, and crossed His right leg, assuming His usual arrogant posture.

    His expression showed neither fear nor despondency—only a hint of emptiness in His gaze, as if reminiscing.

    'What's on your mind?' Amon asked with a smile.

    Red Angel Medici chuckled. 'About things that happened before you were born.'

    Amon shook His head and adjusted the monocle clasped to His eye socket with His right hand.

    His left hand produced a red apple, which He brought to His lips, taking a crisp bite.

    'I've waited a long time for this day,' Amon said with a smile, as the monocle on His face suddenly gleamed.

    He extended His right hand toward Red Angel Medici, His wrist rotating slowly and heavily.

    Red Angel Medici was abruptly set ablaze, engulfed entirely in bright violet flames.

    Despite the excruciating pain, He maintained a mocking smile.

    Burning in the flames. Eternal in the flames.

    …

    After extracting the two Conqueror Beyonder characteristics from Red Angel Medici and handing them over to Lumian, Amon departed from the protected zone.

    He stood above the valley of the still-rushing Srenzo River, gazing out at the distant world.

    Enormous oak trees, so large they seemed to reach the sky, stood tall upon the land. Verdant green blanketed the remnants of human civilization, and intermittent cries of 'waaah, waaah, waaah' echoed, accompanied by the sound of flocking movements.

    Suddenly, a figure staggered out from the faint grayish-white fog.

    The figure had a handsome appearance and wore formal attire, with scarlet eyes—a Sanguine of a not-insignificant Sequence.

    Yet, once outside the protected zone, the Sanguine's body rapidly mutated.

    He collapsed into a mass of flesh and blood, sprouting numerous reproductive organs, some male, some female, and some belonging to peculiar creatures.

    These interacted with one another and with the surrounding stones, wood, and vines, giving birth to strange new life forms.

    Amon watched this with interest for a moment, then raised His right hand and flicked forth a nearly invisible and formless flame.

    The flame fell upon the writhing, ever-procreating mass of flesh, instantly setting it ablaze, reducing it—and the nascent life within it—to ashes.

    Amon's gaze then turned toward the edge of the gray-white fog, where three Sanguine were watching Him. Leading them was Mr. Moon Emlyn, wearing a silk top hat.

    Amon smiled faintly before turning His attention back to the towering oaks.

    Tonight, He was on watch duty.

    Emlyn, who had come to clean up the mutants, observed Amon for a moment before stepping out of the gray-white fog. Enduring the pain of the crimson moonlight, he retrieved the severely corrupted Beyonder characteristic.

    Exchanging silent glances with the two other Sanguine, he returned to the protected zone.

    After sealing the Beyonder characteristic, Emlyn returned to his residence in Backlund, sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window and gazing at the crimson moon high in the sky.

    Only within the protected zone could he experience the peace, spiritual growth, and unique beauty brought by the crimson moon.

    Under the crimson moonlight of the World of Ruins, however, Sanguine like him felt nothing but pain, as though the light sought to ignite them and burn them into pure spirituality.

    Reflecting on his recent experiences, the once-confident Emlyn couldn't help but feel weighed down.

    In the past, he often proclaimed his ambition to be the messiah of the Sanguine, full of drive and determination. But that was when the prophecy of the Sanguine's end of days was distant, and their Ancestor still existed. Now, the end of days had truly arrived—and was unfolding before his eyes.

    Compared to other pathways' Beyonders, Sanguine and Planters had suffered far deeper and more severe impacts since the descent of the crimson moon. Over the past year, Emlyn had witnessed countless Sanguine mutate into monsters or transform into their most ferocious enemies—and he had personally dealt with many of them.

    Familiar faces disappeared daily. Sorrowful events occurred without end.

    This was the apocalypse.

    Now, the Sanguine's population had been halved compared to the time before the crimson moon's descent.

    What can I do to save them… The Moon Emlyn pondered deeply, no longer indulging in fanciful ideas or overconfident thoughts.

    Influenced by the crimson moon's descent, Sanguine dukes dared not act freely, fearing they would lose control and mutate. Thus, Emlyn and other marquises represented the strongest forces the Sanguine could muster.

    With a vague understanding of why the crimson moon—the Great Mother—brought such catastrophic influence, Emlyn spent an entire night pondering but still failed to find a way to save his race.

    When the sun rose and daylight arrived, he drew the curtains, lay on his bed, and drifted into slumber, hoping his active spirituality might offer some insight through dreams.

    Amid his grogginess, a familiar female voice suddenly reached him: 'Emlyn… Emlyn…'

    Emlyn looked in the direction of the voice, dazed, and vaguely saw a voluptuous, graceful figure.

    Instinctively, he called out, 'Ancestor!'

    The voice spoke with a slightly ethereal tone, 'There is something I need to entrust to you.'

    In the past, such words would have filled Emlyn with joy, pride, and self-satisfaction, as it signified him becoming the messiah of the Sanguine. But now, he felt only a heavy weight on his shoulders, as though his body could no longer bear the burden.

    After a few moments of silence, he answered in a low voice, 'Yes, Ancestor.'

    The voluptuous and graceful figure, radiating maternal warmth, said gently,

    'I will give you a Beauty Goddess Beyonder characteristic, containing my spiritual imprint and residual self-awareness.

    'Safeguard it. Someday, I may be able to be reborn through it.

    'It also contains an extra Life-Giver Beyonder characteristic, which I will pre-separate for you. Afterward, retrieve supplementary ingredients from the treasury and strive to complete your advancement in a short time. When the apocalypse arrives, protect the remaining Sanguine as best as you can.'

    Emlyn felt no joy but instead asked in confusion and concern, 'What about you, Ancestor?'

    Why make preparations for rebirth and resurrection?

    The voluptuous and graceful figure said with a smile, 'Some things must be done. Some hopes must be fought for.'

    Emlyn froze, hearing the resoluteness hidden in Ancestor Lilith's tone.

    Without further explanation, the voluptuous figure spoke in a motherly tone, 'My child, as long as all of you survive, as long as my bloodline remains unbroken, and as long as someone remembers my name, I will live forever…'

    Her voice gradually faded, disappearing into the dream.

    …

    The voluptuous and graceful figure emerged from the starlight-woven dreamlike gate, arriving at a majestic and ancient palace enveloped in gray-white fog.

    Seated at the head of the bronze table was The Fool, wearing a half-silk top hat and a black trench coat.

    It was an avatar—a mere projection of His true self.

    'So this is Sefirah Castle?' the beautiful woman radiating maternal brilliance asked as She sat in the chair at the far end of the mottled table.

    She was Earth Mother Lilith.

    'The external manifestation and extension of Sefirah Castle,' Mr. Fool replied in a calm tone. 'You reached out to me through your dream while asleep. What is it you need?'

    Lilith cradled an imaginary infant, her smile soft yet firm. 'I wish to ask you to kill me.'

    'What is the purpose?' Mr. Fool asked, neither hurried nor slow.

    Earth Mother Lilith's smile remained gentle but resolute.

    'The Mother Goddess of Depravity has leveraged my act of stealing Omebella's identity and destiny, using symbolic manipulation to trap me in this undead state. However, we can turn this against Her.

    'Since I am symbolically equivalent to Omebella, killing me will also kill the true Omebella. As She is the link between the Mother Goddess of Depravity and the Brood Hive, severing this connection would significantly delay the Mother Goddess of Depravity's progress in accommodating the Brood Hive, buying us more time.

    'The Mother Goddess of Depravity can use symbols, and I believe you, Mr. Fool, are fully capable of doing the same. As the master of Fooling, you are undoubtedly a master in this domain.'

    'The equivalence of your symbolic identity to Omebella does hold,' Mr. Fool acknowledged with a slight nod. 'But killing Omebella now would turn the Brood Hive against us, prompting it to rejoin the Mother Goddess of Depravity.

    'To the Brood Hive, Omebella is the first child It bore after attaining self-awareness, Its mystically significant eldest daughter, just as the Mother Goddess of Depravity is the Firstborn of the Original Creator. The Brood Hive values Omebella deeply.'

    Before Earth Mother Lilith could respond, Mr. Fool tapped the edge of the bronze table with his fingers.

    'This can be exploited, but the timing is not yet right.'

    Earth Mother Lilith's smile appeared once more.

    'Good. At least I can still serve some purpose with my death.

    'I will await the correct moment.'

    With that, Mother Earth stood, leaving the area above the gray fog in measured steps.
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    1. Offline
      Error404
      Error404
      + 6 ⋅ 0 -
      Moon finally become an Angel, other Tarot will also take that step soon, I wonder if everyone will get PoV like that, First Audrey than Emlyn.
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    2. Offline
      Messager
      Messager
      + 6 ⋅ 0 -
      i'm really sad for Emlyn, He just wants to be a savior
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      1. Offline
        Spectator_d
        Spectator_d
        + 6 ⋅ 0 -
        Stop living in illusions and face the truth.
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    3. Offline
      Brennholz
      Brennholz
      + 3 ⋅ 0 -
      Огонь, что сделал Амон это уменьшенная версия взрыва сверхновой?
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  8. Offline
    Максим Довбняк
    Максим Довбняк
    + 26 ⋅ 0 -
    link to the channel in my profile description

    Chapter 1120: Negotiation


    Greater Trier, in an ancient castle.

    Red Angel Medici sat on a throne pieced together from iron-black weapons, gazing at the hall splattered with dark red blood-like stains. He lifted His right leg, resting it on His left knee.

    Before Him, Lumian's figure, bearing three heads, swiftly materialized.

    Dressed in a white shirt, black vest, and dark trousers, Lumian looked at Red Angel Medici and spoke in a mocking tone, "I thought you'd first hide, only showing up once you confirmed I didn't bring reinforcements."

    As he spoke, violet flames ignited behind Lumian, quickly solidifying into a massive, bloodstained, iron- black chair.

    "Aren't you worried there might be a deadly trap here?" Red Angel Medici shook His right foot, sneering in return.

    Lumian sat down, leaned back against the chair, and answered indifferently, "I'd welcome a deadly trap. It might even be a blessing in disguise."

    Red Angel Medici, His long blood-red hair flowing down, placed His right palm on the longsword armrest of the iron throne and asked disdainfully, "What do you want from me?"

    With unusual sincerity, Lumian replied, "I want to ask you to hand over the two Conqueror Beyonder characteristics within you."

    "Haha." Red Angel Medici burst into laughter. "I've lived for thousands of years and never heard such a request. Even Alista Tudor didn't dare say something like that. He knew well that what couldn't be won in war wouldn't be secured in negotiation."

    Lumian seemed deaf to Red Angel Medici's taunts, continuing as if He hadn't heard.

    "The Northern and Southern continents have already been effectively destroyed. If not for the one worshipped by the Aurora Order forcibly accommodating the Chaos Sea, buffering the initial impact of the Mother Goddess of Depravity's descent, and if not for the cooperation between Him and Mr. Fool in creating protected zones, human society would have long since collapsed. All of us, myself included, would be dead by now-only to be "reborn" into something else…"

    At this point, Red Angel Medici Interrupted, "The main reason wasn't Adam or The Fool saving us. They couldn't even protect Themselves back then.

    "We're still alive because the Mother Goddess of Depravity targeted the Western Continent, aiming at the Brood Hive."

    Lumian didn't deny Red Angel Medici's assertion but calmly added, "If not for Mr. Fool exploiting the Mother Goddess of Depravity's instinctual desire, luring Her to breach the Celestial Worthy's barrier sealing the Western Continent, then reinforcing the seal using Her connection to it... If not for the Western Continent's Celestial Master and others burning their life forces and utilizing the powers of the sefirot to sustain the barrier... Even the naturally dissipating power of the Mother Goddess of Depravity and the symbolic instincts She represents wouldn't have allowed the protected zones to last this long.

    "But even those measures are nearing their limit. Two months ago, the Mother Goddess of Depravity captured the Brood Hive within the gray-white fog sealing the Western Continent. The Brood Hive yearns to see its eldest daughter, Omebella, truly reborn, but it resists re-merging with the Mother Goddess of Depravity. It has developed self-awareness and enjoyed Its completed form for seven or eight millennia, maybe longer-It certainly doesn't wish to perish now.

    "At present, the Mother Goddess of Depravity and the Brood Hive are locked in a tug-of-war. Both the World of Ruins and the Western Continent have attained a fleeting peace, with only the naturally dissipating forces and maternal symbolism still exerting their effects.

    "This may be our last peaceful respite. No one knows how long it will take for the Mother Goddess of Depravity to utterly crush the will of the Brood Hive and fully accommodate this sefirot. Perhaps a year, or maybe only two or three months remain.

    "We don't have much time, which is why I've come to you."

    Red Angel Medici sneered, "How noble, how sanctimonious. But why should I hand over two Conqueror Beyonder characteristics to you?

    "Why not give yours to me, voluntarily withdrawing from the competition for the Red Priest position?

    "Sacrifice is something you say to yourself, not to others."

    Lumian laughed, a laugh that gave Red Angel Medici the sudden feeling that He'd stepped into a trap.

    With a relaxed smile playing across his features, Lumian replied, "Sure! I'll agree to that!

    "I'll hand over my Conqueror Beyonder characteristic to you right now, along with a Demoness of Apocalypse Beyonder characteristic. At that point, my body will lose its balance, and I'll inevitably die. Then you won't have to worry about anyone competing with you for the Red Priest position."

    He spoke rapidly, as if unwilling to give Medici the chance to change His mind.

    Red Angel Medici focused intently on Lumian, as though evaluating the sincerity and truthfulness of his words.

    Relaxing his posture further, Lumian continued, "My only condition is that you must inherit my fate, my identity, this half of my body, and this head."

    As he spoke, he raised his right hand, lightly tapping the dark-gold peculiar mask at the center of his left- side head.

    Red Angel Medici's gaze lingered on the mask, Alista Tudor's handsome face, and Cheek's maternal visage, moving back and forth several times before He sneered, "Do you think I'd accept that?

    "Inheriting this mess? I'd rather perish when the apocalypse comes."

    "And where's your courage?" Lumian provoked.

    "Courage and wisdom aren't mutually exclusive, nor do they prevent me from discerning good from bad," Red Angel Medici retorted, changing His posture and crossing His left leg over His right, His foot shaking rhythmically.

    Lumian taunted Him with a look of disappointment, "Then why bother vying for the Red Priest position?

    "Without relying on the unique nature of this head and this half of the body, can you become the Red Priest without performing the ritual? Can you meet the requirements for the apotheosis ritual in such a short time?

    "Without the unique qualities of this head and body, can you locate and defeat Primordial Demoness Cheek in time?

    "Without these unique traits, can you subdue the malevolent dragon and fully accommodate the City of Calamity before the Mother Goddess of Depravity accommodates the Brood Hive?

    "Even if you somehow became the Origins of Disaster, the Calamity of Destruction, before the apocalypse, your utility would pale in comparison to the existence of this head and body's unique advantages. You'd still perish.

    "We're in a dire position. To save ourselves, others, and the world, every unique advantage must be exploited to the fullest. Only then is there even a sliver of hope.

    "Medici, you're a coward. I despise you!"

    Red Angel Medici chuckled. "There's no need to provoke me. I've never made decisions based on that."

    After a few seconds of silence, He continued, "You're right. To become the Origins of Disaster before the Great Mother accommodates the Brood Hive, unique traits are essential. But how long would such an unstable existence last after the advancement?"

    "I don't know," Lumian admitted candidly. "Maybe minutes, maybe years or decades. Perhaps, with some help and special methods, it could last millennia-or even longer."

    Red Angel Medici stared at Lumian and the head for a long while before shaking His head, "If it were just sharing one body with multiple consciousnessed, I'd accept it-I've had ample experience. But the thought of being stuck with Alista Tudor forever, especially in a form beyond just Beyonder characteristics, is unacceptable."

    Lumian's left-side head turned slightly, Alista Tudor's handsome, masculine face glaring at Medici.

    With a slight shake of His head, He looked contemptuous.

    "Coward. Where's your courage? Is your sharp tongue the only thing that's left undefeated?" Lumian voiced Tudor's sentiments on His behalf.

    Red Angel Medici sneered, "Giving the order to retreat and giving up also requires courage."

    Lumian sighed and asked, "So, do you agree?"

    This referred to Medici extracting the two Conqueror Beyonder characteristics and handing them over to Lumian.

    With a curving of the corner of His lips, Red Angel Medici replied, "Not yet. We're missing one thing.

    "I'm considering whether we should duel for it - the loser takes this path - or..."

    He paused before flashing a brilliant smile, "Why don't you beg me?"

    Lumian froze for a second, then stood and spoke seriously. "Oh great God of War, the symbol of iron and blood, the ruler of chaos and strife, I beseech you. I beg you to save this world. I plead for the two Conqueror Beyonder characteristics..."

    At the phrase "save this world," Red Angel Medici's expression subtly shifted, as though caught between sneering and being stunned, as if a memory had been jolted awake.

    When Lumian finished, the King of Angels mocked, "What happened to your dignity?"

    Before Lumian could respond, He tilted His chin slightly, "Fine. I agree, but under three conditions."

    "Please, state them." Lumian's attitude remained excellent.

    Red Angel Medici mulled over it and said, "First, if you truly become the Origins of Disaster when the apocalypse comes, spare the Einhorn and Sauron families if you can. Also, protect my descendants like Albus."

    "No problem," Lumian agreed without hesitation.

    Red Angel Medici smiled again. "Second, after becoming the Origins of Disaster, you'll need only one Conqueror characteristic to stabilize yourself. At that point, remember to extract the other two and return them to me."

    To reach an Above the Sequences or Great Old Dominator, one needed the corresponding sefirah, the Uniquenesses of the corresponding pathways, and a singular Sequence 1 Beyonder characteristic of each pathway.

    "That's fine," Lumian said without concern.

    Red Angel Medici lowered His left leg and slowly stood.

    "Third, give Adam a punch for me and tell Him, "Don't get mad. This is a necessary sacrifice."

    "That's it?" Lumian raised an eyebrow.

    Medici chuckled. "What else? Kill Him and doom us all?

    "If He'd been honest with me back then, I might have joined His experiments or even sacrificed myself first. Do all Spectators eventually become this dark, perpetually distrusting others?"

    After finishing, Red Angel Medici added mischievously. "I can't separate the highest Sequence Beyonder characteristics in myself. You'll need your godfather's help. But I won't speak His name."

    Lumian nodded and solemnly recited in Hermes, "The shadow wandering through fate, the past God of Deceit, the destined messiah..."
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    1. Offline
      Unlucky Morpheus
      Unlucky Morpheus
      + 15 ⋅ 0 -
      Everyone has beef with Adam
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      1. Offline
        Error404
        Error404
        + 7 ⋅ 0 -
        Bro could have solved many problems if he had just told others about problem and asked for help.
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        1. Offline
          Spectator_d
          Spectator_d
          + 9 ⋅ 0 -
          Here, everyone is plotting against each other. Moreover, it is not clear who is corrupt or in perfect order. Plans can be leaked to anyone, and everything will go in the same place.
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          1. Offline
            reign_333
            reign_333
            + 3 ⋅ 0 -
            Wallfacer
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            1. Offline
              Unlucky Morpheus
              Unlucky Morpheus
              + 3 ⋅ 0 -
              wallfacer and swordholder would be really cool sequence names
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    2. Offline
      Gwan
      Gwan
      + 5 ⋅ 0 -
      So the Red Priest to the Origin of Disaster has been wagered through negotiations and diplomacy
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      1. Offline
        Glorf322
        Glorf322
        + 5 ⋅ 0 -
        Most unexpected "final boss fight"
        swim
        Cuttlefish:
        "Hmmm, fight of Klein with Zaratul was so lame. I think, this time I'll just skip it."
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    3. Offline
      Error404
      Error404
      + 5 ⋅ 0 -
      A True God of War, he knows what Sacrifice truly mean, he doesn't just sacrifice people, when it's needed he won't back down in front of death, turning himself into a sacrifice.
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    4. Offline
      demiwizard
      demiwizard
      + 6 ⋅ 0 -
      Medici no matter what happens you will always be my red priest butwhy
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    5. Offline
      theDavid
      theDavid
      + 4 ⋅ 0 -
      AMON 🧐
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  9. Offline
    TempestUknow
    TempestUknow
    + 16 ⋅ 0 -
    1119 Returning Home






    After leaving the luxurious villa that used to be her own but now housed Lumian and his companions, Madam Justice paused for two seconds and said to Susie, who was beside her, 'Let's go home.'

    'Home?' Susie's tone suddenly became a little dreamy.

    'Yes, back to Backlund.' Madam Justice smiled. Her green eyes sparkled brightly, filled with anticipation and hope, as if she had returned to her girlhood.

    Susie fully understood Audrey's meaning, and a nostalgic expression appeared on her canine face. 'Okay.'

    Over the years, she and Audrey had returned to Backlund on occasion. After the crimson moon's descent, they even stayed there for long periods, secretly protecting the Hall family. But this time, Audrey wanted to truly return home—to be with her parents and other loved ones.

    Justice Audrey's figure quickly became ethereal, carrying Susie, who was now a Manipulator, as they traversed the sea of collective subconsciousness.

    Her voice, tinged with obvious emotion, lingered at the spot before gradually fading into the wind, 'The prelude to the final battle is about to begin. If I don't go home now, there won't be another chance. I don't want to face the true apocalypse with regrets…'

    Loen Kingdom, Backlund.

    Justice Audrey and Susie emerged from the sea of collective subconsciousness onto a street close to Empress Borough.

    They didn't rush home but instead strolled along the street, savoring the mundane pleasures of daily life.

    No one noticed them, nor did anyone realize that the daughter of Earl Hall was wandering through the crowd without a maid or bodyguard, looking around curiously.

    At this time, well-dressed gentlemen in silk top hats and ladies with parasols were moving in and out of department stores, upscale cafés, and opera houses. Two- or four-seater carriages hurried by, while a small circus performed by the fountain, surrounded by children. In the distance, a steam-powered four-wheeled vehicle chugged away, its vibrations gradually fading into the road.

    Justice Audrey observed the scene with focused attention, making no effort to hide her nostalgia.

    Suddenly, she sensed something unusual and turned her gaze toward a man and a woman about to board a four-seater carriage.

    The man was dressed in a black suit, and the woman wore a yellow, flowing gown of sheer fabric with a fresh touch of makeup.

    The moment Justice Audrey looked their way, the pair froze abruptly.

    Plants—some brownish, others greenish—burst wildly from their tear ducts, nostrils, mouths, ear canals, and even pores. There were branches and vines.

    Their bloodshot eyes, now tainted with a crimson hue, radiated intense malice as they turned to glare at the coachman and the surrounding pedestrians.

    However, they seemed to 'decide' to hold back, waiting until they were in a better state before launching an attack.

    But their transformations did not go unnoticed. Screams of terror pierced the peaceful and lively street, echoing far and wide.

    The pedestrians fled desperately. In just seconds, the area around the man and woman became desolate.

    Their madness erupted. With a loud bang, chunks of flesh mixed with green plants and crimson moonlight splattered outward.

    Soon, a team of Nighthawks bearing the Dark Sacred Emblem arrived.

    They swiftly dealt with the nauseating flesh and remnants.

    The fleeing pedestrians suddenly slowed, some returning to their conversations with companions, others stepping into nearby cafés to order coffee with desserts, appearing relaxed and at ease.

    The coachman returned to his carriage, gazing into the distance, waiting for passengers.

    None of them paid any attention to the Nighthawks' cleanup or even glanced in their direction.

    It was as if they had completely forgotten what had just happened, returning to their daily lives.

    Justice Audrey stood watching for a while, sighed, and continued walking toward Empress Borough.

    Before long, she and Susie entered the sea of collective subconsciousness again, emerging in a corner of her long-unvisited bedroom.

    Inside, another Audrey, dressed in a green-and-white gown, sat at the dressing table, fastening a pair of petite pearl earrings.

    She turned her body and looked at Justice Audrey, her expression lighting up with joy. 'You're finally back!'

    She then asked in a verifying tone, 'You've become an Angel?'

    Justice Audrey smiled and nodded. 'Yes. It took a long time to prepare for the ritual, but I completed it three months ago.'

    The advancement ritual for a Sequence 2 Discerner in the Spectator pathway required delving into the subconscious of at least ten thousand humans, uncovering their deepest fears, most primal desires, and the root of all their psychological issues, then leaving a mark of oneself.

    This was not only tedious but also dangerous. Every human carried godhood and was subject to the erosion and influence of the sea of collective subconsciousness, inheriting the most profound cognition and impressions of ancient humanity. Chaos, madness, and primal instincts lurked deep within their subconscious. Exploring these depths risked corruption, mental instability, or even derangement.

    In this ritual, the quantitative requirement could be reduced by targeting higher-ranked Beyonders, but this entailed greater risks. For example, delving into the subconscious of Madam Magician could mean encountering the mental imprints or past shadows of The Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings. Choosing Lumian as a target would suffice for the ritual but would involve facing the most primal and frenzied mind, even glimpses of the Original Creator or the Primordial God Almighty.

    'Wasn't that dangerous?' Audrey, now wearing her pearl earrings, asked with curiosity.

    Though over twenty years old, with mature demeanor and temperament, a trace of girlish innocence lingered in her tone.

    Justice Audrey smiled. 'It was indeed dangerous. During the preparation, I witnessed the worst of human nature, the wildest desires, the most chaotic perceptions, and also the noblest virtues, the most beautiful emotions, and the highest ideals. Sometimes, these contradictory elements existed simultaneously in a single person's subconscious.'

    'Human nature is complex,' Audrey agreed with a nod.

    After observing Justice Audrey for a few seconds, she sighed and asked nostalgically, 'You've been to many places over the years, haven't you?'

    Justice Audrey smiled gently. 'I lived in East Borough for a year, then south of Trier's Quartier du Jardin Botanique for another year. I spent a year in the Southern Continent and nearly two years along the coastal cities of Midseashire. Those are lands of steel and steam. Their architecture resembles towering iron trees standing close together, their 'branches' interconnected. Each 'bark' and 'leaf' is a room housing a family of workers. Only a few 'leaves' and 'bark' receive sunlight…'

    Audrey listened intently, as if she too had traveled to those places and witnessed those sights.

    After a long pause, she asked with anticipation, 'Do you have an answer now?'

    'There isn't one answer to all questions.' Justice Audrey gave a self-deprecating smile. 'I only understand one thing now: Humanity must unite and show collective strength to the deities to gain a higher status, just as workers, farmers, herders, and clerks must overcome fear and band together to demand better treatment and greater security from those in power.

    'That's why we cannot side with beings born as gods. They don't need anchors; humanity is meaningless to Them. If They achieve ultimate victory, our existence, joys, and sorrows will depend solely on Their whims and chaotic intentions, leaving us utterly powerless.'

    Audrey caught the melancholy and worry in Justice's tone and playfully comforted her, 'We may not need those born as gods, but we were born noble.'

    'No.' Justice Audrey shook her head and said with a faint smile, 'Nobility isn't about lineage, status, or position; it's about one's heart and character.'

    She extended her right hand toward Audrey, who was dressed in the green-and-white gown.

    'Welcome home~' Audrey said with a smile, lightly clapping her hand against Justice Audrey's.

    With a crisp clap, the two figures suddenly merged into one, inseparable ever again.

    Audrey now donned the green-and-white gown, fastened the pearl earrings, and applied simple makeup. Leaving the bedroom, she descended the stairs, passed through the hall, and arrived on the second floor of the ballroom, accompanied by a lady's maid and Susie.

    Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, an orchestra played, and men and women in formal attire mingled elegantly, chatting in small groups with drinks in hand or dancing gracefully in pairs on the ballroom floor.

    Audrey took a glass of pale-golden champagne from a passing tray and stood by the railing, gazing down with a gentle smile. She watched her father, Earl Hall, her mother, Lady Caitlyn, and the familiar nobles chatting, as well as her elder brothers waltzing with their partners.

    She didn't join them, content to watch with a smile.

    Late that night, the entire population of Backlund shared the same dream.

    In the dream, a voice seemed to say: 'Mr. Medici, Lumian Lee wants to meet you. You may choose the time and place.'

    Normally, this voice would only echo in the dreams or minds of Backlund's residents, slowly spreading to other cities and nations through the sea of collective subconsciousness. This time, however, it reached beings outside Backlund almost instantly, with hardly any delay.

    …

    'Mr. Medici, Lumian Lee wants to meet you. You may choose the time and place.'

    Red Angel Medici, with His feet propped up on a table, scratched His ear and sneered.

    'Only now did he muster the courage to make this decision?

    'I've been waiting nearly a year.'
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      Error404
      Error404
      + 3 ⋅ 0 -
      1vs1? No conspiracy involved?
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        Glorf322
        Glorf322
        + 2 ⋅ 0 -
        Заговор внутри заговора внутри заговора внутри заговора внутри приглашения на ковбойскую дуэль 🤠
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    Максим Довбняк
    Максим Довбняк
    + 26 ⋅ 0 -
    link to the channel in my profile description

    Chapter 1118: What I Want to Do


    Franca had been carefully avoiding certain phrases, but since Lumian himself brought it up, there was no need to tread so cautiously anymore.

    With a self-deprecating tone, she whispered, "Can you really stop being a pawn?"

    Ever since she was pulled into the protected zone and learned from Anthony and Ludwig what had happened, she felt as though she had developed "pawn arrangement PTSD." Whenever she heard similar terms, her heart clenched, and her mood darkened.

    This symptom showed no signs of improvement over time.

    Lumian was silent for two seconds before raising his right hand and flicking the dark gold, peculiar mask at the center of the head on his left shoulder.

    With a metallic "clang," the faces of Cheek and Tudor reflexively furrowed their brows.

    After nearly a year of adaptation and mastery, Lumian could now exert tangible control over the two faces when in his lucid state, although some nuances were still beyond his grasp.

    After flicking the mask, Lumian spoke in a low voice, "After my merging with Him, unless the one worshipped by the Aurora Order achieves complete victory or is entirely defeated-allowing a true God Almighty to be born-no one can manipulate me anymore.

    "Look at us. We've entered the ruins, made such a commotion, and stayed for so long, yet the Great Mother hasn't even glanced our way despite us simply relying on the cover of the Fog of War. Can you believe that?"

    "He's akin to a scaled-down original Creator-the Oldest One-or a yet-to-be-fully-revived Primordial God Almighty, which grants you a high status?" Franca nodded in sudden understanding.

    "What I'm about to do next will remain highly concealed unless directly scrutinized," Lumian confirmed Franca's speculation, sitting down beside her atop the collapsed clock tower and gazing out at the ruins of Trier beyond the Fog of War.

    Franca was silent for a few seconds before tilting her head and asking, "So, what exactly do you want to do next?"

    The next moment, she saw Lumian smile.

    It was a spirited smile, tinged with mischief-an expression Franca had never seen on Lumian's face before.

    "I'm going to save the world."

    For a moment, Franca felt as though she was listening to some prankster boast on the spot.

    She didn't question him. Instead, she asked, "Do you have any hope of succeeding?"

    Lumian, gazing at the endless ruins ahead, chuckled and replied, "If I don't act, and the Great Mother completely overpowers the half of Her will and achieves fusion, or if the barrier in the sky fails entirely, then there will be no hope whatsoever. But if I act, at least hope isn't zero. There'll be just a sliver.

    "Besides, I'm not the only one preparing to save the world; there are others trying as well."

    At this, Lumian turned to look at Franca, his tone drifting as though recalling something.

    "When I was irrational, driven purely by divine instinct, that instinct allowed me to glimpse certain truths-or perhaps root causes.

    "Everything in this world originates from the Original Creator. All living beings, all Beyonder characteristics, the way events unfold, and the miraculous turns of fate-all of it.

    "What does this mean? It means separation leads to convergence. Something good will inevitably carry bad aspects, and vice versa.

    "This is the essence of the world, the fundamental symbol that governs all things. Even existences as powerful as the Great Mother can't completely avoid it.

    They can only mitigate its influence."

    Franca, somewhat bewildered, said, "I understand dialectics, but what does this have to do with what you want to do?"

    Lumian shifted his gaze back to the ruins.

    "The Great Mother's prior arrangements undoubtedly demonstrated Her level of power and wonder. She achieved multiple objectives in one stroke, almost turning our resistance into a joke. But with every good aspect comes a bad one. Her arrangements have left things that we can exploit-things which might prove critical later."

    "Like what?" Franca now understood the gist of Lumian's point.

    Lumian shook his head. "There are things you can't know yet. You're not an Angel."

    He paused before adding, "Put simply, the Great Mother set up many things to ensure Omebella's true birth. Some succeeded, some failed in the past, and some were kept as backups. They all left certain marks, even physical remnants.

    "For instance, the bird egg deep in the Underworld. For instance, Lugano."

    "Lugano?" Franca was first surprised, then seemed to understand. "So you think he's still useful?"

    Lumian chuckled in response. "I've finally figured it out - he was drawn to me by the fragment of Zedus's soul within me. It's because of his presence that I got deeply involved in the Father Montserrat matter and obtained Omebella's umbilical remains.

    "After that, he was essentially useless to the Great Mother. It's only due to the corruption stemming from his characteristics that he now possesses certain peculiarities in his dreams.

    "I won't plan anything for him. As long as he's alive and still submits to me, he'll play the role I need at some critical juncture."

    Franca didn't delve further, as she wasn't an Angel.

    She stared blankly at the head in the center of Lumian's shoulders and said with a bitter smile.

    "But what can you, a dual Sequence 1 King of Angels, do in the current situation?"

    Lumian turned his head, meeting Franca's lake-blue eyes, and replied with a smile, "You know what I was like. You also know what I've been through. I'm nobody, even if I've stood at the center of the stage and been applauded-all because strings were pulling me from behind. Don't comfort me. I haven't given up on myself.

    "I learned something in the dream city: even the most foolish person, after thinking a thousand, ten thousand times, will eventually get it right once. Now, as someone who's failed countless times, I'm going to challenge the future again. Maybe this time, I'll succeed."

    As he spoke, Lumian's smile brightened, revealing his unabashed hope and expectation.

    He immediately chuckled at himself. "Anyway, it can't get worse for me than it already is."

    Franca gazed at his smile and said nothing for a long time.

    "I also want to see what Aurore and Jenna's eventual resurrection will look like, and what sort of distortions it will entail," Lumian said, his gaze once again darkening as he looked out at the greenery-covered ruins beyond the Fog of War. "By then, there will surely be a calamity sweeping the entire world. For the Great Mother's Blessed and followers, it will indeed be a disaster.

    "You'll participate in the early stages, complete your ritual, take the potion, and become a Demoness of Catastrophe. Then, Madam Magician will help transfer you to the edge of the cosmos or some unnoticed star system, where a human-suitable environment can be created."

    Franca was silent for two seconds before saying. "Okay."

    "I thought you'd refuse." Lumian said, glancing at Franca.

    Franca stared ahead, her gaze crystalline and profound, and said, "I was planning to refuse. But then I thought-even if I become a Sequence 2 Demoness, it probably won't make much of a difference."

    When the crimson moon descended, the Demoness Sect did not receive enough "protection," losing two Demonesses of Catastrophe-the Demoness of Blue and the Demoness of Purple. The latter's Beyonder characteristics and body ingredients were obtained by Angel of Fate Ouroboros, passed through two trades, and eventually ended up in Lumian's hands. He gave them to Franca, who was now waiting for the opportunity to perform the ritual.

    Franca paused and revealed a self-mocking smile.

    "Anyway, my answer just now was half perfunctory to stop you from persuading me further or feeling burdened, which might affect your performance. In the end, whether I go or stay depends on the situation."

    Lumian nodded with the head in the center and chuckled, "If you can't leave or don't want to, then we'll stay together forever, Live together, or die together."

    "That's a good thing." Franca responded half-sincerely, half-mockingly.

    Lumian said nothing more, gazing out at the ruins, his thoughts wandering to unknown places.

    After a while, Franca, who was also staring ahead, moved her eyes slightly and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "What's on your mind?"

    Lumian raised the head in the center slightly, gazing through the Fog of War at the crimson moonlight and dim stars in the sky.

    "I'm thinking that if Cordu hadn't been struck by disaster-if all the arrangements, pain, and torment hadn't happened-and if there had been a good teacher to guide me and Aurore together, teaching me the principles of life and morality, then facing the current situation, this crisis affecting all humanity, I probably would have willingly stood up without a trace of self-destructive tendencies. I would have chosen to be a true guardian..."

    Before Franca could respond, he laughed at himself. "But alas, there are no 'ifs'."

    He stood up, brushed the dust off his body, and said to Franca, who also rose, "Let's go back. Time to start the first step of the plan."

    …

    In Trier, inside that luxurious villa.

    Lumian and Franca entered the living room to find Madam Justice sitting on a single sofa, chatting with Anthony. By her side, the golden-furred, gold-rimmed- glasses-wearing Susie crouched gracefully, exuding a gentle aura.

    Madam Justice turned her gaze to Lumian. "You summoned my messenger to call me here. What is it you need?"

    After obtaining Edefana's Beyonder characteristics and body ingredients, and having digested the Dreamweaver potion long ago, Madam Justice had completed her ritual months earlier and become a Sequence 2 Discerner, now a true Angel.

    Lumian, with the head in the center smiling, spoke sincerely, "Madam, there's something I need your help with."
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