The faint text hidden on Audrey's fair skin twists, then vanishes without a trace. She seems oblivious, gazing at the Fool with innocent, knowledge-hungry eyes.
I, Klein, stare at the painting, silent for a long moment. My lips part, but the words I want to say stay trapped. My gaze is complex—after some time here, I'd nearly grown used to this world's red moon. This "pure moon" before me stirs a pang of homesickness, plunging me into quiet.
I fixate on Audrey's painting, but she and Alger mistake my focus for a stare at them, holding their breath. After a while, I snap back, noticing their tension and realizing their misunderstanding. Leaning back casually, I say nonchalantly, "This isn't something you should know yet."
"My apologies, I overstepped," Audrey murmurs, bowing her head to the enigmatic "Fool." But then, from the gray fog's heights, I say in a calm tone, "However, this painter's talent is remarkable, capturing the moon's 'most harmonious' color through sheer intuition."
Please, Miss Justice, pick up on my hint! At least tell me if the painter is my 'hometown' friend… I pray inwardly, awaiting her response. True to her noble upbringing, Audrey quickly grasps the subtext in my gaze, nodding slightly. "The painter is Adrian Abraham, a Backlund noble. Um… the 'Actor' potion formula I mentioned also came from him."
As expected… My pupils contract. To join the Aurora Order, Adrian must control at least two low-sequence potion pathways, maybe more… He arrived as a noble, unlike my humble start…
Damn it! Why was Roselle an emperor, Adrian a noble, and even the True Creator runs the Aurora Order? Why am I the poorest? I grumble inwardly, indignant.
After a brief chat, I answer Audrey's query about adding Tarot Club members with, "None may recite my name without my permission," successfully flexing my mystique. Satisfied, I end the meeting—gaining insight into Adrian and free knowledge from Alger is no small haul.
As the Tarot Club disperses, I sit alone in the silent hall, the unchanging gray fog swirling around me. It offers no comfort; instead, it amplifies the loneliness of this place. I pull out Adrian's note, skimming past the True Creator's honorific name, ready to recite the second. Clearing my throat, I hesitate.
Could Adrian, who painted Earth's scenery, be an enemy? Is the True Creator's kindness conditional? Is Adrian faking it with a "cheat" like me, or does a true deity back him? Is his friendliness genuine, or a masterful act?
I know the safest choice is to ignore Adrian and avoid chanting unknown honorifics. But he's already connected with my family—angering him could endanger Benson and Melissa. His sincerity and the painting's lonely, Earth-bound sentiment shake my resolve, urging me to trust him.
After much hesitation, I draw a pendulum from my pocket, silently chanting to divine the consequences of reciting the honorific. Opening my eyes, I see the pendulum indicate "slight danger, very low risk." Reassured, I close my eyes and chant:
"The Lord of Dimensions;
The Eye Overlooking the Mortal Realm; The Source of All Illusions; The Creator of the Painting World
Source of All Fantasies",
My logic: if this honorific's entity is hostile, the gray fog might shield me!
In the Forsaken Land, I, the High-Dimensional Overseer, open my eyes, a smile curling my lips. The True Creator and Evernight Goddess watch me, as if monitoring my every move.
"Don't forget your promise, High-Dimensional Overseer," the True Creator says gravely.
"Relax… don't you trust me?" my avatar replies. "I'll help resolve your lack of anchors and the madness from your divine-human split."
"Don't play dumb," the True Creator snaps, darkness rippling around Him, forming an invisible barrier. "If you sabotage the Lord of the Mysteries' emergence, your Earth-bound pollution stays trapped in the Forsaken Land. Even for an Old Ones, polluting Safirah isn't easy. Break our deal, and Amanises will awaken the Celestial Worthy through Antigonus at all costs."
"Even if it means eternal madness for you?" I raise an "eyebrow."
"Exactly," the True Creator affirms. "I won't trust an outer god, even if your core was once human. I won't betray Earth, despite being devoured by gods."
The Evernight Goddess stands silently beside Him, her resolve clear: stars emerge in the surrounding darkness, sealing all spirituality.
I laugh, delighted, as if beholding something fascinating. Studying the True Creator, a cold smile spreads across my face. "Fine, I accept your terms. But, True Creator, Evernight, don't disappoint me. With such resolve, I expect you to stay out of my moves against the Lord of Storms in Loen."
The Evernight Goddess nods lightly, agreeing. With our tentative alliance sealed, my avatar bursts, my spirituality manifesting externally. The shell I left begins to pulse with new spirituality, as if birthing a life ready to hatch.
"I'm off, Creator," Amanises says, bowing slightly. "I've been gone too long—the Lord of Storms will grow suspicious. If He learns I visited, He might ally with Wisdom and Sun to ruin our plans."
Her figure fades into the darkness. The True Creator sighs, continuing to watch—or rather, monitor—my shell. He knows that after this, a certain frivolous, "overly human" outer god will linger, acting annoyingly human.
Assuming, of course, I honor our deal.
Viscount Glaint finishes preparing his potion, nodding in satisfaction. He gazes at the beautiful elixir, entranced: it exudes a tuberose-like fragrance, its pale blue liquid speckled with countless glowing motes. In sunlight, they refract into a kaleidoscope of colors; in a dark chamber, they emit light, forming a shifting starry sky within the potion.
Glaint brings the bottle to his lips, downing it in one gulp. A power he's never felt courses through him, filling him with unprecedented vitality. As the potion's energy takes hold, he slips into a deep sleep. In his long dream, he feels a rare comfort, as if in the Evernight Goddess's divine kingdom—serene, peaceful.
Opening his eyes, he sees shadowy silhouettes. A massive shell envelops him, granting unparalleled security. But the next moment, he's back in reality, as if it were all a dream. Disappointed, Glaint stands, brushing off dust, and hurries to test his new abilities.
Yet, after that profound safety, an inexplicable emptiness and desolation linger in his heart.
Above the gray fog, I gape as a massive eye appears in the air. The fog tears, forming a vast hollow. A veil materializes before the eye, as if to conceal its true form. The eye tilts quizzically, scanning left and right, finally locking onto me in my chair. Recognizing the Fool, High- Dimensional Overseer lands in the fog, offering an "awkward" smile. "Well, damn, you've got this setup too? I thought I was the only one bold enough to play god!"
Adrian's acting—He is a god. But I'm genuinely mortified, toes curling. I'm grateful for the fog hiding my face, or my expression would amplify the cringe. Dry-laughing, I stammer, "Haha, yeah… quite the coincidence…"
Help! Why are our transmigrators so brazen? I thought I was the only one in this era daring to pose as a god. Why are we all so good at faking divinity? Roselle called himself Caesar, I'm the Fool, Zekai's… a big eyeball? Ugh, waiting online, urgent.
These thoughts race through my mind as High - Dimensional Overseer and I stare at each other. After a brief silence, Zekai, ever the performer, breaks it. "Now you believe me, right, Klein? I'm a transmigrator, and I'm not swayed by the True Creator."
I nod, covering my face in shame. My mask slipped hard—or rather, we both dropped our facades, and now it's a contest of who's more embarrassed. I know my skin's not as thick as Zekai's, who fooled me for hours, so the mortification hits deep.
"So, you use this place for gatherings? Looks like we had the same idea, milking our 'cheats'…" Zekai says, pacing. Noticing my silence and the thickening fog, he pauses. "What's wrong, Klein?"
"It's… isn't this embarrassing? We posed as gods, sparring with thin air yesterday…" I flail, still reeling from social death. But Zekai's laughter cuts through. "Klein, it's normal. In this world, gods were once human too."
Normal, my ass! I scream inwardly.
"How about this: think of it as reserving your spot early? Only we know this secret—no god can pierce your fog or my 'courtyard.' Here's a deal: let me join your gatherings as the Fool's ally. That proves I won't blab, right?"
Such a smooth talker… Far off, in the Forsaken Land and Deep Dark Heaven, the True Creator and Evernight Goddess watch my shared vision, silently scoffing.
"Deal," I say, throwing caution to the wind. My brain's overloaded—I'll drag Zekai down with me. He seems harmless, so let's share the social death!
"Done," Zekai says, smiling.
The Fool's hooked.
As the gray fog dissipates, a cryptic smile spreads across my face. I lower my paintbrush, adding the final stroke to the oil painting before me.
It depicts chairs shrouded in gray fog, a majestic figure seated at the head. Beside it, a massive eye symbol is etched. I shake my head, summoning the fully corrupted Hidden Sage to deliver a letter to Klein.
Within lies a single, exquisitely crafted Tarot card.
It depicts a crumbling, sky-piercing tower.
It was The Tarot Card... The Tower.
(End of Chapter)