His Omniscient Gaze lifted, peering at the boundless and colourful pillars rising above, topped with magnificent and diverse palaces of mind. The cities sprawling below were filled with vitality, intersecting in a way that bypassed conventional sense. A hivemind linking the populace to a collective Sea of consciousness. Their essence was far reaching, always seeking to improve and better accommodate its knowledge. Flaws that were identified and promptly rectified, ingraining themselves into the Sea to further propagate its influence.
All was currently within "His" All-Seeing Gaze.
But "His" mind looked past it all—past, present, and future. A palace of an even grander scale stood out from the rest, but it was what imposed it that drew "His" attention. A blurry silhouette of a greyish-white dragon of incomprehensible proportions, its vertical eyes pronounced with opposing colours, pale gold and bright red, both overlooked by a third eye, cloaked by a distinct shadow.
Herabergen's eyes narrowed at the sight. It wasn't new, but "He" never dared to confront it before. Now was different.
"He" maintained "His" gaze for a while, before retracting "His" authority and continuing to 'flow' around the City of Miracles—Livesyd. The vast sprawling imagination, laying on a floating continent of unreal magnitude seemed ethereal. Not long before, they had all been thrown into chaos as the Collective Subconscious Sea and thus the City, churned. Before long, the Divine War broke out, bringing a profound change to the world's order. And after such earth-shattering event, everything and everyone had returned to normalcy as if nothing had changed. But how could it be?
Was the burden of knowledge the reason "He", compared to the rest, remained bothered? Herabergen didn't believe, "He" knew that wasn't the full answer. Change and Entropy was an inevitable aspect of reality. This was a truth God had imparted on all of them. Change brought opportunities, and paths of fate branched to reach them. As the Dragon of Wisdom having some grasp on the paradox that was Omniscience, Herabergen always choose the correct path.
But what defined "Correct"? Based on what? On whom? The answer, like always, varied. In the past, "He" could simply rely on using God as the basis. Everything "He" imagined, that "He" envisioned, became a reality. The world's born of "His" mind devoid of any flaws.
And this was the outcome?
There was no need to dwell on it, "He" had told "Himself". Having a grasp over the past, present, and future was far different from what others might imagine. A path taken in the present leading one to unfortunate events didn't necessarily mean they had chosen wrong. The future was ever-shifting, even for those who could force the trajectory of the flow of Fate into a certain outcome; the process and end, wouldn't necessarily align perfectly with their expectations.
Thus, "His" Omniscient Eyes didn't rely on the whims of Fate. Rather, it leaned on the absolute wealth of the Dragon's accumulated knowledge. Through this, "He" could analyse various paths, using "His" wisdom to guide "Him" to what was most correct.
But what if "His" faith in the Dragons wavered?
Herabergen's reptilian eyes narrowed into slits as "His" brass-coloured wings fully unfurled, "His" massive form blurring. "He" let "His" eyes roam the many future paths abruptly narrowing and converging towards an arranged outcome. "He" breathed a cold air as "He" weaved through many obstacles that just happened to want to get in "His" way. "He" traversed multiple envisioned sub-realms within the various nations in the floating continent.
"Hey. Do not. Ignore me." the unsaid words could never reach the present and affect "Him".
"I just. Want. To. Talk." But Herabergen wanted none of that as "He" kept accurately moving past the many reasonable arrangements and envisioning coming "His" way.
No sane being wishes to talk with you. Herabergen didn't attempt to hide "His" thoughts. No Subsidiary God under the Dragon of Imagination wished to interact with this particularly unpleasant dragon.
The Dragon of Wisdom's mood soured at the thought of this fellow Subsidiary—Azulhod.
"I am. Bored." More proclamations were made, but failed to realise as they missed their intended target. Even the envisioned safe passageways via the Spirit and Astral Worlds failed to draw the Dragon of Nightmare's prey.
Oh? And why is that? A rhetoric question, one born out of Herabergen's habits in spite of "His" authority... It had been drawn out naturally so a true interaction could finally be made.
A pleasant emotion could be felt around Herabergen who stopped for a moment. "His" dreamlike surroundings began to change, forming familiar images. Two different dragons to be exact, one carrying an indescribable air, like "He" could see through one's deepest fears. The other, with an air exuding aloofness, weaved the physical laws under "Her" whim; the world changed accordingly.
"Once upon a time, two dragons basked under God's imagined reality. The Dragon of Discernment and the Dragon of Interpretation, subsidiary to "Him". Proud and Aloof—"
"No amount of concealment is going to trap me," Herabergen stated, seeing through Azulhod's entire plan. Indeed, with "His" Omniscience, "He" could see through the information of any target, but there were some gaps which could be exploited. For example, using the Dragon of Wisdom's well documented cautious nature to "His" advantage, Azulhod weaved the images of Their fellow subsidiaries ones who recently met an unfortunate end during the Divine War.
Omniscience was powerful, provided one was ready to bear the burden coming from utilising it to its full extent. For the Dragon of Wisdom, peering into the secrets of the Gods brought danger, but "His" curiosity couldn't help but be piqued. Likewise, the recent and enigmatic deaths of two Subsidiary Gods under the initial Elven rampage, naturally drew this Dragon's curiosity.
Indeed, this was very reasonable.
But Herabergen scoffed at the attempt, bypassing the encirclement and vanishing. How could "He" not be wary of this mischievous dragon's arrangements, especially when it came to 'naturally' exploiting "His" own well-known nature? For this reason, the instant only the Dragon of Discernment's remains were found and returned, everything clicked. None will find their deaths suspicious under such unfortunate circumstances, right? How were they supposed to anticipate and hide from the Tyrant's unrestrained assault?
But this wasn't it. The real question one should ask was why were they placed in such a precarious situation in the first place? Certainly, the Dragons did restrain the Elves to prevent them from intervening in favour of the Sanguines. But once the war reached its decisive conclusion, the Dragon of Imagination had brought enough time for all "His" subsidiaries to retreat. But two just so happened to be struck by an insurmountable Tyrannical aura.
Sometimes, the answers to one's questions didn't lay on the immediate evidence. Rather, it lay within the minute and often forgettable processes that culminated to the final crime scene.
The weaved images coagulated to form a snow-white and lithe dragon who huffed, glancing at "His" empty surroundings. "I am simply a messenger for "Him"."
Herabergen froze. The path ahead converged towards the previous gigantic silhouette superimposed with the largest palace towering over the City of Miracles. Somehow, "He" had found "His" way to it.
The air beside "Him" changed as Azulhod appeared. "Not to worry, I'll start pestering that old head instead." "His" words had barely left before "He" vanished, almost as if in a hurry. But Herabergen wasn't surprised by the reaction.
The silhouette looked back at "Him". Its third eye's Shadow cloaking its features looked uniquely pronounced.
…
The Underworld teemed.
Phoenixes of all sizes, their oily feathers remained immobile in their flights, dominated the space. Their soundless screeches reverberated in the soul bodies of the Dead. Spirit bodies, Wraiths, zombies, skeletons—all manner of undead creatures aimlessly drifted across the realm. Dull, unfocused, but possessing an ultimate destination.
The Destination of the Dead.
Another wave of noiseless screams rattled, creating doors stacking on top of each other, moving the undead, and the Phoenixes. Their forms lost colour and grew deathly pale as if crossing a boundary. But none dared to wander too deeply into a specific region in the Underworld—one recently formed, but still possessing an unmistakable aura of suppression.
It was in this Pale world devoid of all colours that Pale Emperor Salinger, sat coiled atop a throne of bones. Even the bones were deeply withered, only remaining under "His" ministration. Time, Fate, History, life, Beyonder abilities, even Death died, leaving only Pallor.
"His" serpentine eyes flickered, "His" attention moving as many stares piercing into "His" domain, vanished at once.
Keep looking. The only reason I don't eat you already is because I'm 'full'. "He" closed "His" eyes once more. "His" fellow Subsidiaries were quite agitated by the up starter "He" was, easily gaining the highest favour with the Ancestor.
The thought immediately improved "His" mood. Opportunities present themselves to all, but only the most decisive can fully exploit them. This was the philosophy "He" ascribed. One that had in more than one occasion, elevated "His" status. "He" didn't mind "His" current state, but if a new, and even bolder path showed itself to "Him", "He'll" take it.
Well, I should at the very least consolidate my position further, given "Their" absence. "His" serpent body covered in oily feathers lifted as "He" analysed "His" unique position. But "He" couldn't proceed further.
"His" heart fell as "He" witnessed a deep grey fog arise in his Pale Kingdom. Completely unannounced, completely unaffected by the Pallor pervading the space. "He" watched in shock as the fog coalesced into a bright Door stacked on top of each other, turning from an ethereal form into a real, tangible one.
Ancestor! Salinger immediately withered the bones supporting "His" form, flattening "His" body as much as possible in an act of utter submission. At that moment, "He" wished for "His" thoughts to all die down, but questions kept forming. What is this coincidence? How? Does "She" know? How could I entertain such wistful thoughts? Do I no longer fear the Gods!?
They kept coming as "He" acutely sensed the Door creaking upon, freezing all "His" regrets.
"Oh? Why so stiff?" A voice sounded, shaking the God of Death to "His" core, before "He" froze. Huh? If "He" had eyelids, "He" believed "He" would be blinking to no end right now.
"Like I said, no need to react this way. We're basically acquaintances at this point."
Salinger didn't feel any pressure over the youthful voice, "His" curiosity made "Him" look up. The grand door opened into a deep fog where an indistinct figure sat on a high-throne. At that very moment, Salinger's pupils dilated. The form was familiar—yes! How could "He" forget? "He", together with all of the Annihilation Demonic Wolf's Subsidiary Gods, had witnessed this very existence as they had all gathered for "that pricks" birthday.
Salinger felt sweat bead all over "His" coldblooded, and corpse-like body. "His" own memories had been affected for so long, and yet "He" was none the wiser.
"He" reflexively bowed again as other thoughts formed. "He" had initially felt the presence was that of the Phoenix Ancestor, and now "He" felt a little of "His" previous master—
"Just going to ignore what I said?" Klein stated, causing Salinger to snap "His" gaze back at him. This brought a smile to Klein's concealed face. The corruption originating from a Sefirot, especially one with clear intent like Sefirah Castle when utilised by him, was difficult to remove. Gregace's Door authority might have blind-sided this Goddess from the corrupt-reeked Salinger or She welcomed it. Only a feeling of attraction remained, it was one of the reasons "He" quickly gained "Her" favour.
But all these paled in comparison to something else…
The Inconceivable… Klein could vaguely utilise this symbolism of the Original Creator which the Lord of the Mysteries could partially use.
Pushing those thoughts aside, Klein continued. "Where are my manners—congratulations on advancing to sequence 1, Pale Emperor."
Sequence 1? Salinger keenly noted the term and title, before replying, "I humbly congratulate you as well, on your successful hunt." Having connected certain dots, "He" had naturally realised the Annihilation Demonic Wolf's demise involved this great existence.
Klein chuckled. "It seems both of our fortunate encounters intersected." He added in a casual tone, "Then you should have an idea on what this is about."
Salinger's form straightened as "He" slowly nodded. Klein smiled. "Excellent. Working with sharp people is always a delight."
His form suddenly flickered, catching Salinger's attention. "Well then, that means there's nothing else to state."
"To our next meeting."
He receded into the fog, the door closing and turning from real to ethereal before dispersing into fog. Salinger observed the fog recede with a blank expression.
…
Klein leaned into his high chair, rapping his fingers on the table. Well, that settles it. He mentally ticked off the major tasks he had set for himself to complete.
After knowing Gregrace was out in the cosmos, Klein didn't waste anytime in infiltrating the Underworld and meeting Salinger. Through this, a key mole was placed right in the bird's nest.
One of his greatest advantage he wielded upon returning to the past, was undoubtedly the knowledge of future events. However, those were fickle especially when considering his effect as time went on. But he possessed another major advantage, one far more stable than simply knowing about the future that was his deep understanding of many of the current and future great existences, based on their actions and choices.
When it came to pivotal subsidiary Gods in this epoch not named Amanises, Salinger undoubtedly stood out. Klein knew how bold and completely unorthodox this God of the Dead was. Most importantly, "His" thirst for power was impossible to hide.
It was for this reason Klein had decided to test "Him". Through his actions today, he also experimented quite a few of his prowess. Like how he could make use of the key symbolism the Lord of the Mysteries embodied to a small extent.
I guess I won't be putting those Giants to work anytime soon… Klein put this plan of his at hold for now as he descended into the real world.
The colourful garden before their house immediately greeted him, causing him to take in a deep, refreshing breath of air. His satisfied self paused as he studied the Knight of Misfortune squatting before some flowers, watering them. A teasing look appeared on his face as he approached.
"Enjoying a side quest I see."
"It's all to strengthen my humanity," Amanises tersely responded, fixing her hat and shifting her watering pot's target.
"Does procrastinating help as well?" He raised a brow, now holding the pot as he let its water drizzle on to her.
She didn't immediately respond, her empty hand remaining in position as the water fell on her hat. Luckily, it all slide over its hydrophobic surface leaving her clothes and body untouched. "Procrastination is a heavy term. I am just enjoying the company of you." She now stood straight, facing him, her hands on her hips and a smile tugging her lips.
They stared at each other for a while, before Klein opened the watering pot, throwing its contents at her… Too bad it had just been emptied right itself as their stare down began.
"…"
The Knight of Misfortune was quite pleased with the change in dynamic.