"Traveler from distant time and space,
The paradoxical spiral of logic and wisdom,
The shadow of knowledge, the reverse of truth."
The honorifics, chanted in ancient Hermes, reverberated in the spiritually sealed room. A lone candle flickered with soft crackling sounds.
Snow dripped two drops of men's cologne onto the flame, sparking a bluish-white flare. The scent swirled into a vortex, greedily siphoning his spirituality.
"I beseech You;
Grant me strength;
Grant me the power to craft a Paradox Talisman."
"Nutmeg, carry strength to my talisman; ambergris, carry strength to my incantation…"
As Snow recited his incantation, layered whispers echoed in his ears. With his spirituality pouring forth, a white cloud shaped like a galloping horse thundered through his mind.
Without hesitation, Snow took an engraving knife and carved an "∞" symbol onto a penny coin, its head and text ground away and replaced with intricate patterns. A strange, twisted power, defying all reason, surged into it.
The continuous spiritual drain was trivial for Snow, practically a living Uniqueness. As his spirituality flowed like water, a row of Paradox Talismans—crafted from penny coins—lined up before him.
"Phew, smoother than expected." Snow toyed with the coins, feeling their infused spirituality, a slight smirk curling his lips. Whether due to his higher authority over the Source Matter or because White Horse, Not Horse was bound to his soul, responding to himself was far easier than Klein's self-summoning.
He didn't need to summon himself, open a summoning gate, or even use proper hydrosols or herbs—just a bottle of men's cologne.
By the way, the nutmeg and ambergris in his incantation? Those were just ingredients in his cologne.
Praying to himself could be casual. With ample spirituality, he didn't need materials to reduce consumption.
But every pro has its con. For instance, he couldn't store items in White Horse, Not Horse.
Pocketing the Paradox Talismans—costing a mere penny each after labor—he itched to test their power. Unfortunately, he couldn't be sure he'd shaken off the Nighthawks' surveillance. For someone who hadn't left the inn in half a month, stepping out now would draw attention.
Suppressing his inner child's urge to play with a new toy, Snow returned to the bed, teasing Lily—his Rune Shorthair cat.
He'd planned a perfect routine:
Morning prayers to Mr. Fool, then writing. After lunch, studying ritual knowledge from the potion. Afternoon, using Pavlov's Dog to project his consciousness into Lily for a stroll. Bed by nine, after a cup of hot milk and thirty minutes of exercise, sleeping soundly to leave no fatigue for the next day.
Like most routines, it didn't last long—not for lack of discipline, but because the next day, a grotesque spiritual entity with a vertical mouth appeared in his room.
"Looks like Mr. A's messenger is slower than a train…" Snow muttered inwardly but promptly took the envelope from the entity. Watching the creature—utterly unfit for the Aurora Order's recruitment aesthetic—vanish, he tore open the envelope and unfolded the brief letter inside:
'Mr. Panredax,
I've received your letter. Given the foolish actions of the two Secret Supplicants, you need not feel guilt or fear for your decisiveness. The Lord does not blame a devout follower.
The Lord's summoning ritual requires extensive preparation, even for us faithful. A mere fraudster, not even a lamb, warrants no undue attention.
The notebook you intercepted is highly valuable, sufficient to earn a Listener potion.
I presume your potion digestion is nearing completion. I look forward to your return.
Your friend,
Mr. A'
"Friend? When it's not about the True Creator, Mr. A's quite polite!" Snow grinned at the elegant, flowing script, a wave of relief washing over him. Good thing he'd connected with the great Mr. Fool—otherwise, he'd be planning his escape.
After all, Mr. A had high hopes for him!
As mentioned, consuming a Secret Supplicant potion inevitably twists one's psyche. In the Aurora Order, you're either a lunatic or a deeply hidden lunatic.
But even among lunatics, there's a hierarchy.
Ordinary lunatics are the lowest rung—uncontrollable cannon fodder, excluded from schemes.
Next are lunatics who seem normal, able to blend into society, cultivate lambs, and bolster the Aurora Order's influence. They're the backbone.
Snow, however, was a cut above: a rational lunatic with an impeccable identity.
As a veterinarian, he mingled in high society, with connections to noble ladies and daughters. Such access to Loen's elite circles was invaluable to the Aurora Order.
More crucially, he had a face that embodied the Aurora Order's aesthetic ideals!
Thus, to hasten his prayers to the Lord and promote him to a Listener—better suited to leverage his identity—Mr. A had transferred him from Backlund, where demigods were a dime a dozen, to "peaceful" Tingen, where even Sequence 7s were rare.
From Mr. A's letter, once Snow digested his potion, he could return to Backlund, ascend to Listener, and preach the True Creator's glory to noblewomen.
Lighting the letter over the candelabrum, Snow glanced at the calendar on the nightstand, a red circle marking a date. A sinister smile crept across his face—
"Perhaps before I return to Backlund, Mr. A will have to visit Tingen first…"
(End of Chapter)
Author's Note: On the Listener's enhanced preaching ability, this is a secondary setting derived from the original novel.
First, the Listener was anciently called Whisperer, suggesting an ability to "pass whispers to others."
Second, in the battle against the True Creator's spawn, Megose displayed the Blasphemous Words ability.
While the spawn's exact rank is unknown, it's below angel level—likely an incomplete demigod, or it wouldn't have been suppressed by the Bone Ash Box. Thus, this ability likely isn't from the angel-level Profane Elder.
So, which pathway is Blasphemous Words?
Not Secret Supplicant. Possibly Hermit, but unlikely, as Hermits focus on shadow powers. Rose Bishop, focused on flesh magic, is also unlikely to produce Blasphemous Words. Shepherds are more about herding. Listener is the most plausible candidate.
Hearing the Lord's teachings and passing them on is likely the Whisperer's acting principle. But since the rap-Lord went mad, Whisperers became Listeners.
As for the potency of the spawn's Blasphemous Words… ever heard of an Old One-level air pump?