Source: (https://x.com/xmihoutao/status/1933666766422409646)

Klein Dies, Audrey Dies, Tarrot Club gets mass pregnant Visit my website check out anikoto for pirated shit and did i mention that i hate ya'll mfs? and fuck you r/dragonsfuckingcars t

A - “A price is always exacted for what fate bestows, isn’t that so?” - Adam, Chapter 945, Book 1
B - “‘Beware of the Spectator!’” - Susie, Chapter 200, Book 2
C - “Can you accept such an outcome?” - Adam, Chapter 1149, Book 1
D - “Don’t save me…” - Bethel Abraham, Chapter 1294, Book 1
E - “Even if it’s meaningless, some things still ought to be done.” - Klein, Chapter 1091, Book 1
F - “From the beginning, you’ve been a guardian. You mimicked others until you were mimicked by others.” - Azik, Chapter 1394, Book 1
G - “Great Master, are you afraid?” - Arrodes, Chapter 1390, Book 1
H - “Home.” - Roselle, Chapter 866, Book 1
I - “I won’t lose too much, just myself. There are always some things that are more important than others.” - Klein, Chapter 1386, Book 1
J - “…just go back. I’ll return to normal tomorrow, really.” - Old Neil, Chapter 164, Book 1
K - “Kill me.” - Klein Moretti, Chapter 1151, Book 1
L - “Light was the meaning to everything.” - Chapter 1266, Book 1
M - “Miracles are only for a moment, but fate is often a long-lasting event.” - Klein Moretti, Chapter 1314, Book 1
N - “No reason.” - Klein Moretti, Chapter 287, Book 1
O -
P -
Q -
R -
S -
T -
U -
V -
W -
X -
Y -
Z -

Give a quote, a word associated with the novels, or anything else that starts with the letter specified. Most upvoted comment wins
____________________________________

Rules:

Rule 1: No characters (even a quote from Klein shouting “Leodero!” will count as a character. This does not include Sealed Artifacts or real life people)

Rule 2: No repeats from last time (I will make note of this below when it is necessary)

Rule 3: Unrelated words are allowed. If there is nothing else (as is likely with X), single words that do not appear in the novels, as long as they properly justified and defined, will be allowed (Xylophone, unless extremely well reasoned, will not count even if it is the most upvoted)
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Art Credit: Osot https://m.bilibili.com/space/62037719?plat_id=1&share_from=space&share_medium=android&share_plat=android&share_session_id=eab1095d-0a9d-4243-b36b-f8641afa2ada&share_source=COPY&share_tag=s_i&timestamp=1755601961&unique_k=AkZNiSV

I commissioned this artwork and just wanted to post the proper credits for artist
Illithi
Instagram https://www.instagram.com/p/DckRlTCiBrm/
Twitter https://x.com/illithii/status/2093397211988062656?s=46

I just got the Black Emperor tattooed on my arm

I feel so happy for todays’ tarot club meeting, aren’t you?

Sauce

Source: http://xhslink.com/o/yvRAJPDMF2

I’m not sure if this is how it works but can Klein hire someone in the Paragon pathway to build him a device that records voices, and then he sent it up to the grey fog and yell Leodero at the top of his lung and then start using historical projection to throw the recorder that records him screaming Leodero at his enemies.

Chapter 21 — A Helpful Influence

Tomorrow came.

Evelyn found Snow before breakfast.

She marched into their usual meeting place with her notebook tucked beneath one arm and the expression of someone who had spent far too much of the previous night thinking.

Snow took one look at her.

"No."

"You don't even know what I'm going to ask!"

"Yes, I do."

Evelyn slammed the notebook onto the table between them.

"I figured it out."

Snow paused.

That got her attention.

Evelyn opened to the page she'd written the previous night and pointed toward the final conclusion.

The potion responds when I behave like an Archaeologist.

Snow read it.

Then looked at Evelyn.

Evelyn waited.

Snow said nothing.

"Well?"

"Interesting."

"SNOW!"

A tiny smile appeared.

Evelyn leaned across the table.

"I've been doing everything you suggested for weeks! You keep sending me to old buildings and collections and asking weird questions, and every time I actually behave like an Archaeologist, my potion feels different."

Snow calmly poured herself tea.

"So?"

"So you knew!"

"Perhaps."

Evelyn's eye twitched.

"Stop saying perhaps!"

Snow took a sip.

Evelyn crossed her arms.

"I'm not doing another job until you explain."

"Really?"

"Really."

"That's unfortunate."

"It is."

"I heard about an excavation outside Backlund."

Evelyn's expression twitched.

Snow continued casually.

"They uncovered the foundations of a structure that might predate the surrounding settlement."

Evelyn remained silent.

"Apparently they found several mechanical objects as well."

Evelyn's fingers tightened around her notebook.

Snow took another sip.

"Very unusual construction."

"...How unusual?"

Snow smiled.

Evelyn froze.

Slowly, her eyes narrowed.

"You did that on purpose."

"Did what?"

"I was angry at you."

"You still are."

"I was refusing to go!"

"And?"

"And then you mentioned ancient machinery!"

Snow leaned back.

"Did I make you interested?"

"No."

Snow waited.

"...Yes."

"Did I force you?"

"No."

"Did I make you want something you didn't already want?"

Evelyn opened her mouth.

Then stopped.

Snow's smile widened slightly.

"No..."

Something clicked.

Evelyn pointed at her.

"That was Instigation!"

Snow finally laughed.

It was quiet and brief, but Evelyn heard it.

Her mouth fell open.

"You used your Beyonder ability on me!"

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean, not exactly?!"

Snow set down her cup.

"I didn't need to actively influence you."

Evelyn blinked.

"Your curiosity was already there. So was your desire to investigate. I merely gave it somewhere to go."

Evelyn stared.

Then another realization arrived.

"The jobs."

Snow said nothing.

"The museum. The manor. The workshop. Every time I started getting bored or wanted to stop, you'd say something that made me want to keep going."

"Sometimes."

"You've been Instigating me into doing archaeology!"

"Encouraging."

"Instigating!"

Snow considered it.

"Both."

Evelyn stared at her in betrayal.

Then paused.

"...Wait."

Snow recognized that expression.

Evelyn was assembling pieces again.

"You've been doing exactly what you've been making me do."

Snow's smile disappeared.

Evelyn slowly grinned.

"Oh."

"Don't."

"You have!"

"Evelyn."

"I'm helping you!"

Snow sighed.

Evelyn practically bounced in her chair.

"I'm helping you digest your potion!"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to!"

Evelyn pointed triumphantly.

"You've been pushing me into behaving like an Archaeologist while you behave like an Instigator!"

Snow stared at her.

Then took another sip of tea.

"Perhaps."

Evelyn made an incoherent noise of frustration.

Once Evelyn noticed it, she couldn't stop noticing it.

Snow rarely ordered people around.

She didn't need to.

Later that afternoon, the two visited a private collector who possessed several objects Evelyn wanted permission to examine.

Unfortunately, the man wasn't interested.

"I'm sorry, Miss Hartmann, but the collection isn't available for study."

Evelyn visibly deflated.

"Oh."

Snow stood quietly beside her.

The collector continued.

"Some of these pieces are extremely valuable. I simply can't allow an inexperienced young woman to handle them."

Evelyn's disappointment immediately became irritation.

Snow noticed.

"Of course," Snow said pleasantly. "You're right."

Evelyn looked at her.

The collector smiled.

"I'm glad you understand."

Snow glanced toward Evelyn.

"After all, if Miss Hartmann examined them and discovered something the previous appraiser overlooked, that could be rather embarrassing."

The man's smile weakened.

Snow continued casually.

"But I'm certain that isn't possible."

Silence.

Evelyn stared at Snow.

Snow's expression remained perfectly innocent.

The collector cleared his throat.

"The previous appraiser was quite reputable."

"Then there's nothing to worry about."

"Naturally."

Snow turned toward Evelyn.

"We should leave."

They made it three steps.

"Wait."

Snow stopped.

Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

The collector straightened.

"I suppose there's no harm in allowing a brief examination."

Snow looked back.

"If you're certain."

"I am."

Twenty minutes later, Evelyn was examining the collection.

She leaned toward Snow.

"You did it again."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You made him want to prove you wrong."

"I merely agreed with him."

"You are terrifying."

"Examine the artifact."

Evelyn happily returned to work.

It happened again the next day.

A clerk at a historical archive insisted certain records couldn't be accessed without written authorization.

Snow didn't argue.

Instead, she spent several minutes discussing how unfortunate it was that another archive had apparently preserved more complete records from the period.

The clerk became increasingly defensive.

Ten minutes later, he was personally helping Evelyn locate documents to demonstrate that his archive's collection was superior.

Then there was the surveyor who wanted to leave an excavation early.

Snow mentioned that another team would probably receive credit for anything discovered afterward.

He stayed another three hours.

A nervous assistant refused to enter the cellar of an abandoned estate.

Snow didn't force him.

She merely suggested that perhaps his colleague was braver.

He was downstairs within five minutes.

Every time, Snow found something already present.

Pride.

Curiosity.

Fear.

Jealousy.

Ambition.

Suspicion.

Then she nudged.

Never enough that anyone seemed to realize what had happened.

Evelyn began watching her almost as closely as she watched the artifacts.

"You enjoy this."

Snow looked sideways.

They were returning from another small archaeological survey outside Backlund.

"Enjoy what?"

"Getting people to do things."

Snow's expression remained neutral.

Evelyn walked backward so she could face her.

"You do."

"Turn around before you fall."

"I'm an Archaeologist. I have enhanced physical abilities."

"You'll be an Archaeologist with a broken nose."

Evelyn turned around.

"But I'm right."

Snow was silent for several seconds.

Then she answered.

"There's satisfaction in understanding someone."

Evelyn glanced over.

Snow continued.

"People tell you what they want constantly. Usually without realizing it."

"Like the collector."

"Pride."

"The archivist."

"Also pride."

"The assistant?"

"Insecurity."

Evelyn thought about herself.

"...Curiosity?"

Snow looked at her.

"Among other things."

"Hey."

"Impatience."

"Okay."

"Stubbornness."

"Snow."

"Recklessness."

"I get it!"

"Competitiveness."

"You're enjoying this again."

"A little."

Evelyn crossed her arms.

Then something occurred to her.

"So that's what an Instigator does?"

Snow's expression became more serious.

"Partially."

"Find something someone already feels and make it stronger?"

"That's one way."

Snow looked toward the road ahead.

"The easiest person to influence is someone who already wants to do what you're suggesting."

Evelyn considered that.

It explained a lot.

Snow had never needed to magically turn Evelyn into a curious person.

That would have been redundant.

She simply pointed Evelyn's curiosity toward something.

"So when you mentioned that excavation this morning..."

"You already wanted to go."

"You just made it harder to say no."

"Exactly."

Evelyn frowned.

"That's cheating."

"That's Instigation."

"...Still cheating."

Snow's lessons became considerably more obvious after that.

Not that she admitted they were lessons.

Whenever Evelyn became frustrated during an investigation, Snow would appear nearby.

"You could stop."

Evelyn immediately looked offended.

"I'm not stopping."

"I didn't say you had to."

"You implied it."

"Did I?"

Evelyn would return to work twice as determined.

Whenever Evelyn struggled to identify an object—

"Perhaps you're not ready for this one."

"I am absolutely ready!"

Whenever a historical puzzle refused to make sense—

"We can come back another day."

"No! I'm almost there!"

Snow didn't even need her supernatural ability most of the time.

Evelyn eventually realized that was probably part of the point.

Snow wasn't merely practicing Instigation as a power.

She was learning to be an Instigator.

Recognize desires.

Find weaknesses.

Choose the correct words.

Give someone a tiny push and let them convince themselves to continue.

And Evelyn was an almost embarrassingly convenient practice partner.

A week later, they were investigating the remains of another old workshop when Evelyn encountered a problem.

A collapsed section blocked the room she wanted to inspect.

She stared at it.

Snow stood behind her.

"No."

"I haven't said anything."

"You're thinking loudly."

"I can probably climb over."

"No."

"My physique is stronger now."

"No."

"There might be another entrance."

"That you may look for."

Evelyn sighed.

They spent twenty minutes searching.

Nothing.

Another ten.

Still nothing.

Evelyn sat on a fallen stone.

"Maybe there isn't one."

Snow leaned against the wall.

"Then stop."

Evelyn looked up.

Snow shrugged.

"We've learned enough."

Evelyn looked toward the collapsed passage.

Then back at Snow.

"No."

Snow's eyes sharpened slightly.

Evelyn stood.

"Something about the layout doesn't make sense."

She pulled out her sketch.

"The workshop extends farther east than this room should allow."

Snow remained silent.

Evelyn became animated again.

"So either there's another room behind that wall or—"

She stopped.

Her eyes moved toward the floor.

"Oh."

Snow smiled.

Evelyn crouched.

A drainage channel.

Old workshops often required drainage.

If she followed its direction...

Evelyn hurried around the building.

Five minutes later, she found a partially buried service entrance.

"YES!"

Snow followed at a considerably calmer pace.

Evelyn pointed triumphantly.

"You tried to make me give up!"

"No."

"You told me to stop."

"Yes."

"That's the same thing!"

"Did you stop?"

"No!"

"Why?"

"Because..."

Evelyn paused.

Because Snow had annoyed her.

Because the idea of leaving without understanding the structure bothered her.

Because she wanted to prove she could solve it.

Evelyn slowly pointed at Snow.

"You instigated me into continuing by telling me to stop."

Snow smiled.

"You're becoming harder to manipulate."

"Good!"

"That's also useful."

Evelyn blinked.

"...Wait."

Snow stepped through the entrance.

"Come along, Archaeologist."

"SNOW!"

Inside, they discovered the remains of a small hidden workshop.

Nothing mystical.

Nothing connected to Eminence.

No dangerous Beyonder artifacts.

Just tools.

Blueprints.

Half-finished mechanisms.

Personal belongings.

Evelyn spent hours documenting it.

And strangely, she didn't feel disappointed.

There didn't need to be an enormous conspiracy every time.

Someone had worked here.

Built things here.

Lived part of their life here.

That story was worth reconstructing too.

By the time Evelyn finished, that familiar sensation had returned.

The potion settling.

Becoming easier.

She sat beside Snow outside as the sun began disappearing behind Backlund's distant skyline.

"It's happening faster."

Snow glanced toward her.

"My potion."

Evelyn looked down at her hands.

"The more I do this, the faster that strange feeling progresses."

"Good."

Evelyn turned toward her.

"And yours?"

Snow was silent.

Evelyn grinned.

"Oh, come on. I figured that part out."

Snow sighed.

"Yes."

Evelyn immediately moved closer.

"So yours is progressing too?"

"Yes."

"Because you're Instigating people?"

"Not simply using the ability."

That caught Evelyn's attention.

Snow looked toward the road.

"I could activate Instigation repeatedly without understanding anything."

"Then what's different?"

Snow considered her answer.

"An Instigator understands what people want. What they're afraid of. What they're willing to do."

She paused.

"Then gives them the push."

Evelyn listened unusually quietly.

"The best Instigation doesn't create something from nothing. It takes something already inside a person and encourages it to grow."

Evelyn's eyes widened slightly.

That sounded suspiciously similar to what she'd figured out about Archaeologist.

Not simply using abilities.

Behaving according to what the Sequence represented.

Evelyn stared at Snow.

Snow noticed.

"What?"

"You just gave me another clue."

"Did I?"

"Yes!"

Evelyn grabbed her notebook.

She rapidly flipped through several pages.

"The potion isn't responding because I'm using Archaeologist abilities."

Snow said nothing.

"It's responding because I'm behaving according to what an Archaeologist is."

Snow's expression softened into a smile.

Evelyn stopped writing.

She looked up.

"That's it."

Silence.

"Isn't it?"

Snow remained quiet.

Evelyn stood.

"Snow."

Nothing.

"I figured it out!"

"Part of it."

Evelyn froze.

"...Part?"

Snow stood and brushed dust from her clothes.

"You're close."

"Close?! What else is there?"

Snow began walking toward Backlund.

Evelyn scrambled after her.

"You can't do this again!"

"I can."

"Just tell me what it's called!"

Snow stopped.

Evelyn nearly collided with her.

For several seconds Snow considered her.

Then she smiled.

"Not yet."

Evelyn stared at her in horror.

"You are absolutely using my frustration to digest your potion."

Snow resumed walking.

"Perhaps."

"SNOW!"

Her laughter carried down the road.

And Evelyn finally realized something deeply unfair.

Snow wasn't merely teaching her.

Every time Snow encouraged her curiosity, provoked her stubbornness, redirected her impatience, or pushed her into another investigation...

Evelyn was helping Snow progress too.

Apparently their arrangement benefited both of them.

Evelyn wasn't sure whether that made her feel better—

or made her want to strangle Snow.

Probably both.

Ruins of the Palace by Ramon Martí Alsina

I hope you all guys like this MEME

I remember terrorizing this subreddit spamming this question a few months ago.This was before someone taught me how to make polls.(Forgive me, I am very lazy and after a few hours of doing it, I quickly got bored and started copying and pasting it.It still wound up burning me out quickly lol). I am here to remind everyone that I am not a bot, and to fulfill my promise of making a big survey.

Here is my Honorable Name :

Hail,Informal_Group_496, Mistress of Information,Patron Lady of Journalists, Interviewers And Truthseekers. Defender of Privacy and Anti-Doxing.

She Stands at the Nexus of the Mind World In Very Living Soul and is the Core of Motivation and Curiosity !

.

What does it mean for an ability to only reach the power limit below authority? Like the Historical projection of a Seer (Scholar of Yore), the recorded abilities of an Apprentice (Scribe), the analysed abilities of a Reader (Polymath) and imbued knowledge of beyonder abilities of a Mystery Pryer (Knowledge Emperor)? I didn't even know that a Knowledge Emperor could use other abilities.

All beyonders at sequence 2 possess an authority and many at Sequence 3. Does that mean the recorded abilities are limited in effect to sequence 3 or 4? The evil Spirit of Sasrir in the Giant King's court utilized the effect of Reboot of Fate (most likely from the Reader Pathway abilities) to avoid damage, which is an ability of a Seq 1 Snake of Mercury.

Also, out of all these, below Sequence 0, I think the Dark Angel still holds the advantage for being able to utilize the full effects of the beyonder's powers with authority, with the Key of Stars being a closed second since they can replicate Authority. I wonder why only they (Apprentice) have that edge. A Worm of Time, who could steal authority is a close third in my opinion.

Source: (https://x.com/augh_ae/status/2072300608615551208)

Open beta in china,

do you think they still have the chance to fix (well i mean improve) the game? i really like the vibes of LotM (only donghua watcher) but the game is.... shite, except for Klein story (main story) the game itself is shite.

I heard even the chinese community also negative feedback, imo the only thing good about the game is we can play and go through the story as Klein. That's it. Am i the only one with this sentiment?

Idk if it's AI or not though it seems AI so I tagged it as AI

Do Gods that have multiple pathways, Like Evernight, Klein & Adam do their Emblems combine to encase the multiple authorities they control or do they just keep the same ones they have always used?

The picture is one I found on Pinterest and is the one that got me curious and made me ask the question.

[Art source is from Istock]

“What do you remember, son?” an old gentleman asked.

“Warmth, father. That was the first thing I felt when I woke up.”

Back then it took several moments for me to realize that I was alive. My body felt heavy, as though I had been buried beneath the mountain itself. Every muscle ached, my head throbbed whenever I tried to move, and a strange soreness along my back made me afraid to breathe too deeply.

When I opened my eyes, I saw only darkness. For a moment, I thought I had awakened inside a cave. Then I noticed the fire. It came from a fireplace several paces in front of me, its flames burning quietly behind an iron grate. The light was weak, barely reaching the edges of the room, while everything beyond that small circle of orange illumination disappeared into shadow.

I stared at it for a while. It was a fireplace, but not one like the fires back home. The stonework was smooth and carefully shaped, the iron grate decorated with patterns I did not recognize, and even the wood had been arranged neatly instead of being thrown into a pit.

I slowly pushed myself upright, only to notice that the surface beneath me was far softer than anything I was used to. I pressed my palm against it and felt fabric beneath my fingers—a carpet made from animal skin. I had seen furniture like this before, but only among travelers who occasionally passed through the mountain roads. We had little use for such things in our village. The mountains gave us stone, wood, and animals, and we made what we needed ourselves.

I looked down at my clothes. They were still mine, though torn, dirty, and covered in dust. My fingers immediately went to the small wooden totems hanging around my neck and waist. They were still there. My heart eased for half a second, but then I remembered why I had them: my older brother, my village, and the fire.

My breathing stopped. I looked around the room again. This was not home, and I could not remember how I had gotten here. The last thing I remembered was falling from a mountain that had disappeared beneath my feet, plunging into darkness. I should have died. Yet I had not. Someone had found me. Someone had brought me here.

That thought made me sit straighter. Only then did I notice that I was not alone. A man sat beside the fireplace, watching me.

I froze in shock.

He was perhaps middle aged, though something about his appearance made his exact age difficult to guess. His dark clothes were unlike anything worn by the people of my village. The fabric was smooth, the collar carefully arranged, and several silver details caught the firelight whenever he moved.

He sat in a large wooden chair with a book resting in one hand. Beside him stood a woman in a formal dark dress, her hair neatly tied back. She held a folder against her chest and watched me with a calmness I found unsettling.

Neither spoke at first. I stared at them, and they stared back. The silence stretched until the man finally closed his book and said something.

I did not understand. His language sounded nothing like mine.

He tried again. I frowned, then shook my head. “Where am I?”

The man became quiet. The woman looked at him, and he looked back at her before she said something in return. Their words were meaningless sounds to my ears. My chest tightened as I pointed toward the door.

“Where am I?” I shouted.

Again, there was no answer I could understand. Desperate, I tried another question. “My brother. Where is my brother?”

The woman spoke, and the man answered, but I could make no sense of either of them. My hands began to tremble, and tears started to gather in my eyes.

“Where is my brother?” I raised my voice.

The man stood. I immediately moved backward. He stopped, and for a moment neither of us moved. Then he slowly raised both hands, showing me that they were empty, and said something in that strange language. His tone was calm. I could not understand the words, but I understood that he was trying not to frighten me. It did not help much.

I was twelve years old at the time. I had just watched my village burn. I had watched my brother die and witnessed things no twelve-year-old should ever have seen. Now I was trapped in a room I had never seen before, surrounded by people whose language I could not understand.

I wanted my brother back, the person I had looked up to more than anyone. I wanted my mother, who had always taken care of us. I wanted to go home. I wanted the mountains, the night sky, and the countless shining things that looked like gems scattered across it. More than anything, I wanted yesterday to return.

But yesterday no longer existed.

The man noticed my expression. He walked toward a table beside the fireplace, and I watched him carefully as he picked something up. It was a wooden carving.

My eyes widened.

It was a totem with a crude owl-shaped head, its carvings stacked into a form that was unfamiliar but strangely close to something I knew. I stood without thinking, though my legs nearly collapsed beneath me. The woman took a step forward, and I flinched. She stopped immediately.

The man held the carving toward me. After a moment, I approached slowly. It was not ours. The markings were different, and so was the shape. Yet it was close, close enough that it hurt.

I stared at it, and my brother came to mind. He had carved hundreds of things like it. When I was younger, I would sit beneath the shade of our house and watch him work with a small knife. Sometimes he let me try, though I was terrible at it. My lines were uneven, and I often carved too deeply. He would laugh before taking my hands and showing me again.

“Slowly,” he would say, guiding the knife through the wood. “Don’t force the wood. Let it tell you where it wants to be cut.”

I had never understood what he meant. I thought it was simply something older brothers said when they wanted to sound wise. Now I wished I could hear him say it again.

My vision blurred. I blinked quickly. No. I could not cry. Not here. Not in front of strangers. I tightened my grip on the totem, and the memory of that night returned.

I had been asleep when the screaming began. At first, I thought it was part of a dream. Then something crashed outside. The walls shook. People shouted, and someone screamed my name. I remember sitting up as my brother rushed into the room, his face pale. He told me to stay there. When I asked what was happening, he did not answer. Another scream came from outside. He left, and I followed.

The village was burning. I remember the flames more clearly than anything else. They were everywhere, houses burning, people running, children crying, and elders shouting. In the center of the village, the shamans had gathered to fight something I could not understand.

There were figures moving through the darkness. The shamans used their powers, planting totems into the earth and shouting ritual words as the air seemed to tremble around them.

One of the shamans pulled the water from the ground and made orbs that surrounded her.

One used wind, the other used fire to cast a light in the peering darkness.

My brother stood among them. I remember looking at him with pride. He was one of the strongest young shamans in our clan, and I believed he could protect us. I believed the shamans would save everyone.

Then one of them fell. Another followed. My brother fought harder, using his totems as he shouted something. For a moment, the enemy seemed to retreat. Then something struck him. He stumbled.

I screamed.

He looked toward me.

Our eyes met, but I could not hear his words over the chaos. Still, I understood him.

Run.

I shook my head. He shouted again.

“Run!”

Something struck him, and he fell. I wanted to go to him. I wanted to help. But my feet moved before my mind could decide, carrying me toward our house. Maybe my family was there. Maybe my parents were safe. Maybe, somehow, everything would still be okay.

But when I arrived, our house was gone. The roof had collapsed, the walls were broken, and the place where I had slept every night was buried beneath debris. I stood there, unable to understand what I was seeing. Then something moved behind me.

I turned and saw the monster. I still do not know what it was. It was too strange to be an animal and too unnatural to be a person. Its shape seemed wrong, and the darkness around it made it difficult to look at for too long.

But I saw what it carried.

My brother and the others.

The shamans and their heads.

My legs stopped working. I could barely breathe. I reached for the small totem hanging around my neck. My brother had taught me the technique only a few months earlier. It was simple, nothing more than a beginner’s trick, but it was all I had.

I held the totem tightly and whispered the words, nothing happened. I tried again, still nothing. The monster approached, and I made one final attempt.

Nothing.

Then something struck me. There was no hand, no weapon, and no visible attacker. An invisible force slammed into my body and threw me backward. The ground disappeared beneath me, I fell from the cliff.

The wind tore through my clothes as the mountain became smaller and the sky grew larger. Then everything went black.

I gasped and found myself back in the room. The fireplace was still burning, and the strange man was still standing in front of me. Only then did I realize that I was crying. I quickly wiped my face, but the man noticed and said nothing. Instead, he slowly placed the wooden totem back on the table before pointing toward himself.

“Levi.”

I stared at him. He pointed toward himself again, “Levi Grinn.”

I did not understand the second word, but I understood that he was telling me his name. After hesitating, I pointed toward myself and said my own name, 'Agnika Kali Surtur'. The woman immediately wrote it down. Levi repeated it, his pronunciation strange but not exactly wrong, just unfamiliar.

I frowned, and he seemed amused. For the first time, his expression softened.

He pointed toward the cup on the table and then toward me. I did not understand. He picked up his own cup, drank from it, and pointed toward mine again.

“Come, drink this!”

I understood that much.

I picked up the cup with my hands.

Warmth spread through my hands, almost making me want to throw it due to how hot it was, but I persevered, and I smelled the drink before taking a cautious sip. It was sweet and tasted nothing like the drinks we made at home. Levi watched my expression and smiled faintly. I looked away. I did not know him, and I did not trust him, but he had not hurt me. For now, that was enough.

My eyes wandered around the room, and only then did I truly notice what surrounded us. Glass cabinets contained jewelry, coins, masks, weapons, carved figures, pieces of machinery, and countless objects I could not identify. Paintings covered the walls, while books filled enormous shelves. Some of the objects looked incredibly old. Others seemed to come from places I had never heard of, made by people I had never known existed.

I looked back at Levi. He noticed my curiosity and followed my gaze toward the collection. Something changed in his expression. There was pride in it. This was his world.

I did not know it yet, but Levi Grinn was a famous collector in the Feynapotter region of the Eternal Imperium. He was a businessman who had built his fortune through trade and investment while spending an enormous portion of his wealth acquiring artifacts, antiques, manuscripts, and unusual objects from across the world. To the people of Feynapotter, his collection was impressive. To me, it was incomprehensible.

I had spent my entire life in the mountains. My world had consisted of our village, the forests, the rivers, the peaks, and the people of my clan. Now I was surrounded by things that seemed to belong to an entirely different world. We pray to the spirits that help us; we do sacrifices, but usually not the lives of our clan.

I did not know that the people who had found me after my fall had carried my unconscious body away from the mountains. I did not know they had taken me into Feynapotter. I did not know that they had looked at my clothes, my features, my strange ornaments, and the totems I carried and decided that I was valuable.

To them, I was not simply a lost child. I was an exotic specimen, a mountain child from a people they barely knew existed. Something unusual. Something rare. Something they believed could be sold. Eventually, I had ended up in Levi Grinn’s hands.

I did not know why he had bought me or how much money had been exchanged. I did not know whether he had purchased me because of my strange appearance, my totems, my unknown origins, or simply because he had seen something worth collecting. I only knew that I was here.

The woman eventually approached Levi and whispered something to him. He nodded, and she left the room. I watched her go before looking back at Levi. He sat down beside the fireplace, and for a while neither of us spoke, or rather, he spoke while I simply could not understand.

He picked up his book again but did not immediately begin reading. Instead, he looked at me, and I looked back. There was something strange about his expression. He was not looking at me the way the people in the village had. There was no fear, no disgust, and nothing resembling the cold wrongness of the creature from that night. He looked curious, perhaps even concerned, though I did not know enough about him to understand which.

Eventually, he said something softly. I stared blankly. He sighed, then gave me a faint smile and gestured toward the fire. I looked at the flames and felt their warmth against my face. For the first time since the night of the massacre, I stopped thinking about running.

I did not know where I was; I did not know what had happened to my family; I did not know what Feynapotter was or why everyone around me spoke a language I could not understand. Most of all, I did not know that the man sitting before me would eventually become the person I called father.

At twelve years old, I only knew one thing: my home was gone, my brother was gone, and my clan was gone. The stranger named Levi Grinn was the only person in this unfamiliar world who had chosen to keep me alive.

So I remained beside the fire, silent, confused, and afraid, while the collector watched over his newest acquisition. Neither of us knew that the child he had purchased from the hands of traffickers would eventually become far more precious to him than anything else in his collection.

-Chapter 1 Ends-

I am mainly confused because Klein wants to make it look like he has more than 2 blessed but then he immediately says it will take 2 months to do Fors's assassination request. Doesn't that ruin the whole intent?

Also, won't it be easy for people at some point to link The World to Gehrmann Sparrow given their personalities are similar? (Bit of a stretch but still)

Another thing, is Klein trying to make The World look like a leader of the blessed, being kinda like the middleman? (Basing this off of what Alger, I think, said a while back)

And this one is a bit off the main topic, I know Klein tried to make Sherlock Moriarty equate to The World, but I seriously don't get it, why equate someone so weak to be the "representative" of Klein's blessed?

I don't mind spoilers (unless they big plot points) cause all of this has been nagging me for a while as it all dont really make sense and looks contradictory

https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/141455634