The docks of Pritz Harbor were always a scene of noise and vitality.
Steamboats sounded their long whistles, and thick black smoke was scattered by the sea breeze, blending into the gray sky.
Dockworkers in coarse canvas overalls shouted rhythmic chants as they hauled heavy cargo from the holds to the shore, sweat soaking their clothes and steaming into white mist in the characteristically chilly Victorian air.
Gentlemen in decent formal wear and top hats, along with ladies holding lace parasols, carefully avoided the puddles and oil stains on the ground as they descended the gangway, surrounded by servants.
Their faces bore the fatigue of the journey, as well as the joy of returning to a bustling life.
Tris stood in the midst of such a crowd, yet he seemed out of place.
He had no luggage, only a set of washed-out clothes and a cane that had been pieced back together after breaking.
That cane was like a portrayal of his past life—shattered, yet forcibly held together by a powerful will that did not belong to him.
The sea breeze blew his slightly messy black hair, bringing a salty and somewhat fishy scent.
He didn't look back at the alfalfa, nor did he look at the figure who had given him a "new life."
Tris had chosen the second path.
This was not just because the prospects of this path were broader, but also because only in this way could he become the perfect pawn, a poisonous thorn driven deep into the heart of the Demoness Sect.
Was this rooted in "loyalty" after being inspired by a great Existence, or was it out of the coldest "calculation" for his own interests?
No one could say for sure; perhaps even Tris himself couldn't tell.
Perhaps, when he gazed up at that indescribable Mythical Creature form of chaos, his humanity had already been crushed, leaving only the purest instinct to seek benefit and avoid harm.
And following a deity was undoubtedly the greatest "benefit."
Or perhaps, he never had any humanity, but from today onwards, he did?
Tris also knew that when he looked back at that figure standing by the ship's railing again, his own awe would uncontrollably surge up.
Before stepping onto the Pritz Harbor docks, he had gathered his years of savings—almost all his cash—into a heavy leather bag and respectfully handed it to Nairn.
He called it an "offering."
And Nairn weighed the substantial leather bag in his hand; the gold pounds clinked with a pleasant sound, and the expression on his face was one of compassion for all living beings.
"Cults really are terrifying."
He sighed from the bottom of his heart.
Fortunately, he was never some cult leader, but a life mentor who enjoyed helping others, encouraging them toward goodness, and guiding lost lambs.
In the final moments of Tris disembarking, Nairn had also "conveniently" lent a small hand.
By simply standing there and releasing a wisp of the demigod status belonging to "thousand faces," he allowed Tris to complete the final step of digesting the potion.
—"Instigating" a demigod.
Even if it was just the most superficial attempt at the level of a thought, it was enough to make the sequence 8 "Instigator" potion boil completely and then settle into silence.
Tris struggled to organize his words at that moment.
"Great... Existence... You... you see, I am so insignificant... Let me... leave..."
His words were incoherent, but his spirit was highly focused, pushing the "Instigation" ability to its limit.
And now, feeling an unprecedented peace and stability within his body, Tris's admiration for Nairn had almost reached its peak.
This is Lord thousand faces!
At the same time, following Nairn's instructions, he had devised a perfect explanation for the "failure" of his mission.
This blame would naturally be shifted to the famous "King of the Five Seas," Nester.
After all, he was a genuine demigod, a king of the seas, a "Frenzied Mage" of the "Lawyer" Pathway.
Within his domain, the failure of a minor "Instigator's" plan was not only not a fault but could even be said to be within the realm of reason.
Moreover, he had digested his potion because of it, which was an unexpected joy, enough to make up for his failure.
Tris blended into the crowd and took one last look back at the alfalfa.
Nairn's figure had long since disappeared.
He gripped the cane in his hand; the break pressed against his palm, as if constantly reminding him of his new mission.
He was going back to the Demoness Sect, but this time, he was living for himself.
And he was also a pawn, a sharp blade, cast into the Abyss by Lord "thousand faces."
Tris took a deep breath, the air mixed with coal ash and the smell of the sea filling his lungs. He was no longer lost; he stepped forward and joined the flow of people surging into the depths of the city.
His eyes became incomparably determined as he resolutely stepped onto the path of no return toward becoming a "Demoness"... Meanwhile, Nairn's life was peaceful as he methodically arranged his itinerary.
He fumbled a common copper coin out of his pocket.
Its surface was a dull bronze color, and the edges had become rounded and smooth from long-term rubbing.
In Nairn's hand, it looked unremarkable, just like any old coin that had circulated countless times in the market.
But Nairn knew it would no longer be ordinary.
As an ancient Existence like "thousand faces," carrying an antique that had witnessed the passage of time was quite reasonable, wasn't it?
This antique just happened to have a faint, ethereal connection with a certain mysterious "Sefirah Castle" in the past—that was also quite reasonable, wasn't it?
When Klein Moretti held the first Tarot Club meeting and accidentally used this antique to pull him, a "passerby," into the gathering—that would be perfectly reasonable, right?
That's right—
Everything was so logical and reasonable.
Nairn almost believed it himself!
This was the terror of Sequence 4 "Identity Planning"; it could not only fabricate a character but also define a convincing background and past for that character.
But that wasn't enough.
To tamper with a place of the status of "Sefirah Castle," the ability of "Identity Planning" alone was far from sufficient.
One must use a Sefirah to counter a Sefirah.
"little theater, come out and get to work."
The Chaos Theater immediately surfaced in his consciousness like a puppy happily wagging its tail, radiating feelings of intimacy and expectation.
"The next play is very important, I need you to do me a favor," Nairn laid out his plan completely. "Disguise this copper coin as an item related to Sefirah Castle."
Chaos Theater responded immediately, indicating it was more than happy to help.
"Wait," Nairn called out to it. "I can't let you work for free this time."
With a thought, he unhesitatingly poured almost all the "play value" in his account into the Chaos Theater.
A majestic torrent of "play value" poured in, and the entire Chaos Theater Sefirah bubbled with happiness.
It was already happy to serve its master, and it hadn't expected the master to forcibly feed it such a large mouthful.
Overbearing master's forced love?
No, the master didn't make me work for nothing; he has me in his heart!
With the Chaos Theater's self-PUA, an indescribable sense of being moved instantly filled it.
It no longer demurred, humming and erupting with an unprecedentedly brilliant light, even mobilizing its hidden reserves of strength without reservation.
Nairn hadn't thought that much; he wasn't the type of person to treat a cheat purely as a tool.
The little theater could help for free, and he could return the favor with gifts.
This feeling of mutual effort made raising such a unique and cute Sefirah exceptionally interesting.
Moreover, the Tarot Club was the highest quality and safest channel for Beyonder intelligence and resources he could access at this stage.
Miss Justice Audrey's sparkling "big gold pounds" were also something Nairn urgently needed right now.
This matter had to be ensured to be foolproof.
Thinking of the "Financial Steward Plan" he had tailored for Miss Justice, Nairn felt it was necessary to go to this extent.
Otherwise, he would have to activate the backup plan.
Start directly with Klein himself.
As for whether it would disrupt the plans of certain Existences... being noticed by Adam or Amanises... the corners of Nairn's mouth curled up slightly.
He was very egoistic.
Who doesn't have a Sefirah?
Adam and the Goddess, if you're smart, just obediently provide investment.
Thinking back to when he tricked... ah, no, persuaded venture capital firms to give him money, he didn't even negotiate.
Besides... humph, Goddess, you wouldn't want me to stuff this big baby, the Chaos Theater, into this tiny Earth, would you?
Without the power of an Outer Deity level, what would happen when encountering a Sefirah with some intelligence and no reservations?
The "Hidden Sage" might serve as an example.
If the Chaos Theater didn't have a master, then without Nairn's restraint, it really might be like—
[Nezha: Birth of the Demon Child], turning the whole world upside down?
This kind of trump card, akin to nuclear deterrence, gave Nairn a bit more casualness in his actions.
It was also the confidence that allowed him to follow his heart's desires without overstepping the bounds.
This was the Fun-seeker player who truly resonated with the Chaos Theater.
The Chaos Theater was, after all, a semi-activated Sefirah; it wasn't something to be trifled with, and it deserved some respect, right?
As Nairn injected all the "play value," the power of the [Chaos Theater] began to activate.
An invisible and great power descended upon that tiny copper coin.
It did not belong to this world and did not follow any known Beyonder laws.
That was the authority and symbol unique to the Chaos Theater!
[Existence] and [Narrative], [Accident] and [Variable]!
This power did not create from nothing; instead, using the copper coin in Nairn's hand as a base point, it began to trace back its "past."
The long river of time was forcibly stirred, and an illusory ripple spread upstream.
It was as if in some forgotten ancient era, this copper coin really did have a microscopic connection with that magnificent Sefirah Castle composed of light doors and cocoons.
It might have been accidentally dropped by some guardian.
Perhaps in some Accident, it had been caught in the aura emanating from Sefirah Castle.
Or perhaps, it was itself a product of an absurd "Narrative," and its "story" was related to Sefirah Castle.
Under the authority of the Chaos Theater, these "perhapses" all became "real."
The copper coin in Nairn's hand began to undergo visible changes.
Its originally clear appearance became blurred, as if eroded by endless years.
A simple, blue-gray luster emerged on the surface of the coin, and irregular wear even appeared on the edges.
A desolate, ancient, and mysterious aura radiated from the copper coin.
It was no longer an ordinary copper coin.
It became deeper; that ancient texture was no longer the accumulation of years, but a spiritual glow unique to a treasure waiting to be awakened.
It's done.
Nairn held this "Sefirah Castle Antique Commemorative Coin" in his hand with satisfaction.
Next, it was just a matter of waiting for the fish to take the bait—no, waiting for his gold pounds... no, waiting for the partners of justice to arrive.
He tucked the copper coin away close to his body and lay back on the bed leisurely, quietly waiting for that moment to come... Time passed in the waiting.
Before long, just as Nairn's consciousness was becoming groggy and he was about to fall asleep—
Boom!
A deep crimson light, so thick it wouldn't dissipate, erupted without warning, completely enveloping him in an instant!
At the same time.
Inside a luxurious villa in Empress Borough, Backlund, the capital of the Loen Kingdom.
A young girl with brilliant blonde hair and emerald eyes was sitting at her dressing table, examining the ancient bronze mirror her father had boasted about, her face overflowing with innocent joy.
The crimson light submerged her.
And on the Sonia Sea, far from land, inside an outdated three-masted sailing ship traveling through a storm.
A young, dark-skinned Sailor wearing a robe embroidered with lightning patterns was standing on the deck.
The same crimson completely swallowed him as well... The gray-white fog was boundless.
An ancient palace, seemingly built by a deity, stood quietly in the center of the mist.
Nairn quickly regained his vision.
He wasn't panicked at all; instead, he looked around with great interest.
Interesting, so this is above Sefirah Castle.
Nairn saw diagonally opposite him a tall girl whose figure was shrouded in gray fog, looking around with a curious yet slightly nervous gaze.
It was Miss "Justice."
He then looked to his left, where a man whose figure was also hidden by the gray fog was making similar movements, but his posture was more vigilant and wary.
It was Mr. "Hanged Man."
Although they hadn't acquired these titles yet, Nairn had already foreseen their choices.
Immediately after, the girl and the man almost simultaneously discovered others standing nearby.
Finally, the gazes of the three converged simultaneously on the head of the long bronze table.
There sat a figure shrouded in even thicker gray-white fog, leaning against the back of the chair, his posture appearing unfathomable.
It was precisely the organizer of this gathering, the great Mr. "Fool," fellow student Zhou Mingrui.
"Justice" Audrey and "Hanged Man" Alger's hearts instantly leaped into their throats.
What did this mysterious Existence want to do?
For what purpose had he summoned us here?
The atmosphere momentarily became heavy and oppressive.
Everyone remained silent, quietly speculating on each other's identities and the secrets of this place under the cover of the gray fog.
However, Nairn was never one to wait passively.
He decided to take the initiative and give this unique "online meeting" an explosive opening.
"Wo ri..."
He paused for a moment, as if feeling the word wasn't quite appropriate, and changed his phrasing.
"What the... your problem?"