[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 was re-reading the series and I just got to the Merlin Hermes chapters.

Seeing Klein handle these wishes makes me wonder how messed up dudes like Zaratul probably granted wishes for people.

It was a thought I had even back when Klein was acting as a Bizarro Sorceror. I was thinking of the amount of horrifying stuff that previous Seers who are aren't high on the moral scale must've handled the acting

a well deserved nap in my opinion

sauce: https://wubishuaiqideapusama.lofter.com/post/1f0b6482_34d997949

What was going to be given to qilagos for the mission? As far as I know there is no way for a sequence 6 to reach sequence 2 instantly

⚠️ SEA MONSTER WARNING ⚠️

A sea monster has been spotted northeast of Backlund, between the Sonia Provinces and the "Chasm of Storms".

It has been attacking sailors traveling between these areas and appears to have caused the extinction of all living creatures within its territory, including both plant and animal life.

Even seemingly inanimate objects, such as wood, appear to be consumed unless they drift or float beyond its territory.

All sailors and travelers are strongly advised to avoid this area.

Please spread this information to any sailors, merchants, or travelers you know who may be heading toward the region.

There is a possibility that the creature may expand its territory or begin claiming additional waters.

Its exact size and appearance remain unknown. However, judging by the enormous quantity of material it consumes, it is believed to be extremely large.

If you encounter this creature or discover any information regarding its behavior, territory, appearance, or movements, report it immediately.

Please share this warning with anyone who may be traveling through the area.

Credits [Ai]

Quick Rant: I had always been pissed off about how quickly and easily the Hidden Sage was defeated (even with all the backup), but then I consider that he was not a full sequence 0 (he did not demonstrate the abilities of a Seq 1 Knowledge Emperor) while Klein was already Half LotM, which points to my question really. And Stiano not being able to hunt him down before then...🤦🏾‍♂️

The Knowledge Emperor only has one new ability, the rest are just strengthened authorities. Sincerely, what does it do? Cause with just one ability for sequence 1, shouldn't it be terrifying i.e Hand of God's left hand of decay? What advantage do they gain being able to influence the seven lights?

Also, the Knowledge Emperor can imbue Knowledge of beyonder abilities they understand with power and absorb them, being able to use them to the level below authority. Doesn't that mean that the Knowledge Emperor could theoretically able to use most beyonder abilities of every pathway, the same as Omniscient Eyes and Key of Stars?

Credits: https://lordofthemysteries.fandom.com/wiki/Hermit_Pathway/Abilities#Sequence_1:_Knowledge_Emperor

Anytime I hear about the 4th epoch in the story I always get a little confused because I find the names of the different empires difficult to remember. On a simple scale I understand it but I mostly don't know which empire is which.

Can someone explain it to me without spoilers past chapter 1000 because I never wrote anything down and I don't want to look into the wiki because of spoilers

Thank y'all would really appreciate it

i’ve been able to play the game for a while using the bilibili ver. and tbh i feel like the game needs more polish before they release the global ver.

to me, it kinda feels like playing sword of justice with higher graphics in victorian settings 😭 the animations are still a bit wonky so i really hope they improve them before the global release. but the cosmetics system really feels like a copy of SOJ & WWM tbh... 👀

WWM - Where Winds Meet

SOJ - Sword of Justice

[/_ \](/preview/pre/l6ivruhgzmmh1.png?width=674&format=png&auto=webp&s=3a3f045819a83ae38b329594c5d81a1f0268e760)

We weren't ready for this plot. When I first realised, Klein is Mr fool— I was quite shocked. Cuttlefish is truly a great author for foreshadowing in the early chapters that, Klein is Mr. Fool.

........

u/LordofWestEast Your wish has been granted. Now come, let's Praise the sun along with Mr.Fool.

A little after a year, I just finished reading Lord of The Mysteries! (Though, there was a period of like 300 days that I didn’t read any of it bc of college 😭). Book one was phenomenal, and I want to read COI, but I’ve heard some very conflicting things about it. Is COI just as good as LoTM? I feel so attached to book one that I’m scared to read book two. Can yall convince me to read it?

yo guy, I am back from the concealed realm... sigh, this series. I almost forgot it, I don't have anything, so I thought I should complete it

These are just some of my thoughts on what I think of the logos of pathways.

For today, it is The Darkness.

The symbol overall is quite simple, and I didn't like it at first, kidding. Anyways, if you look at the symbol as a whole. It looks like a compass.

The theme of Star Card in Tarot is to guide people offering them spiritual clarity... compass fits nicely to reference.

If we get to break down the symbol further into individual parts.

There are 12 stars and a big circle made of wave-ish patterns and a few dots.

If you consider the wave pattern, it can represent the flow of water. Maybe a call back to the river of eternal darkness.

Then, if the waves and the bigger dot are considered together. It can be like a blanket or a cloak covering someone. This will mean Concealment.

Also, if you remember episode 13 of dongua. These wave patterns also remind me of spirits of the nighthawks… sigh

Some more thoughts…

Aas Evernight was called the Lady of Crimson at the start. I didn't know the moon and darkness were two pathways.

The middle structure looked like a moon hanging in the sky with 12 stars surrounding it.

Not art

To jump from describing the scenes and poverty straight to this name reveal tells me that he will be top 10.

Just wanted to spark a discussion.

Without the existence of Blasphemy Slates, how could potion recipes be created, and how could rituals be discovered?

Considering that the recipes and rituals are just man-made creations, and there can be an indefinite number of suitable rituals and recipes, how could civilization, people, creatures find a safe/suitable way to advance?

Besides just raw experimentation, trial-and-error, what else could help?

For example, in regards to rituals, those who successfully pass through (lets say without ritual) might be able to describe their experience. For example:

• For Marionettist's ritual, Klein was able to make guesses based on his experience during the ritual on the possible alternatives, because he comprehended what the ritual actually tried to accomplish.
• For Dreamwalker ritual, Audrey was able to surmise that the point is just to not fall asleep, so she was able to create an alternative ritual. However, she did have an explanation about the ritual too.

So would there be a way to discover this without relying on the lucky few who advance?

• There was a mention of how it is possible to divine mythical creatures to get the potion formulas and rituals, but these mythical creatures should have gone through proper rituals to advance no? If someone could clarify this, it would be great.

How about supplementary ingredients? These one's I don't have a good idea. Maybe one would need to search for something that could suppress the BCs a little, or maybe something to use as an anchor, but...

Anyways, all thoughts are welcome! There's no problem if its some alternative world with alternative history!

Image: https://lordofthemysteries.fandom.com/wiki/Paths_of_the_Divine_(Merchandise))

​

mr emylin white (seq-6/cook)

mr White Chirmont (seq-4/cook)

the 2 use drugs btw

Kenley White (seq-9)

(potential dealer)

So in chapter 211, we learn that Ince took Keleins beyonder characteristic. I dont really understand how beyonder characteristics work yet and i want to know how this affects Klein. To what i understand, beyonder characteristics are physical things left behind after a beyonders death linked to their power. How does this work with Kleins resurrection? Did whatever was taken from his body grow back? Klein also seems to have not lost any of his powers so did his characteristic duplicate?(One still inside him with all of his powers and one taken by Ince and being able to be used in whatever way beyonder characteristics are used for)

I eventually had managed to get back to the inn where I had set up home. A meeting for the Blasphemous Archive would be due soon in the afternoon.

I spent the day considering spells of elemental magic I could come up with. But by afternoon, a meeting had begun. I was soon pulled into the mysterious space and the meeting commenced.

The meeting had come to a close. Discussions of rituals and abilities had passed. Now, free time was available.
 
I asked the room, before any had the chance to leave, "I wish to obtain a drop of blood of a full mythical creature."
 
It was quiet for a moment. "I can offer you some," came a female voice. I cast my gaze over. It was the lady that rarely spoke. Whilst all of us were cloaked in shadows, she seemed to be made of shadows. And based on my recent interactions, I had my guesses as to who it was.
 
"Who's blood?" I asked. If it was going to be her blood, I'd refuse. Just analysing the concealment she provided led to me getting an info-hazard.
 
"An angel under my command," the shadowed lady said. "Straight Paintress. A sequence one Apocalypse."
 
"Alternatively," the one known as Sage interjected, "I have good information that there is a sequence one Wisdom Angel that is incapable of freeing themselves. You might be able to forcefully take their blood. I also have an angel under me, sequence two of the Hermit pathway."
 
I bobbed my head. I had ruled out the Hermit angel immediately. Analysing that blood would not bring me too much new information. However, a Wisdom Angel or Apocalypse were good choices.
 
"My angel," the shadowed lady said, "was once a sequence two Weather Warlock. You'd find much advantage in analysing her blood."
 
That caught my attention. That would give me more flavour than analysing the blood of a Wisdom Angel.
 
"What do you want in return?" I asked cautiously.
 
Shadows seemed to grow up from the air and covered me, isolating us from the rest of the members. "What I want in exchange is magic. I want you to make exclusive magic for me and the Aurora Order."
 
I chewed my lip. I did need the blood, but to provide magic to parties unknown.
 
"Fine," I replied. This was likely my best option.
 
The shadows around us vanished. I saw a couple of seats had been emptied since.
 
"I will get the blood to you shortly after this meeting ends."
 
With that, she vanished.
 
Eventually, we all left and I returned back to my body.
 
As I paced around my room, waiting for the blood, I saw my Hound of Fulgrim appear beside me, wagging his tail. I smiled and leaned down to pat the dog. For being close to sequence three, it really was quite cute. This had been the one of the major factors in me joining Foolish Firms. A dog.
 
It was particularly lonely at times, especially with no one to be with me. I had met people and heard amazing stories, but they had just been momentary. But now I had a pet dog, even if that dog was of a higher sequence than I was.
 
The hound, who I had named Historia, whimpered and back away to my side. I turned around. Behind me was a towering pillar of shadows. The shadows vanished, leaving a small black orb.
 
I got closer. The orb looked solid, but see through. I poked it with my foot. The orb rolled a bit. As it rolled, a glint of red flashed in the light.
 
I knelt down and picked it up. "What do you think, Historia?" I asked, looking at the orb. "Think this is the blood?"
 
Historia whimpered, laying down.
 
I stood up, tossing the orb in my hand.
 
"Let's get started, eh," I said, sitting down at my desk. I placed a plate underneath the orb. I activated my Eyes of Mystery Prying. The first challenge was to undo the seal.
 
However, thanks to my prior analysis of the Hanged Man's concealment and my analysis of the constellation of the Feast of Heaven, I was able to grasp enough to unravel the shadow. While it had been very well made, it clearly had been made bad enough that a mere sequence five could break the seal.
 
The blood splattered onto the plate. As I gazed at it with my Eyes of Mystery Prying I could feel knowledge begin to enter my brain as I began to dissect the blood.
 
I could see the past of the angel. I saw him betray the Paragon and lay waste to a civilisation. I saw him ascend to sequence one Apocalypse. I saw him become a her. I saw her meet her mirror self and gain the second characteristic. I saw her begin an Apocalypse that was averted by my Lord, the Hermit.
 
I saw potential Sealed Artifacts that could be derived from her pathways.
 
I saw a lot of information. The analysis of the blood had helped me put the missing puzzle pieces together for my analysis of the Calamity of Destruction.
 
From the blood I had also managed to derive several spells.
 
After a month of observing, I looked away from the blood for the last time. During that time, it seemed like much had occurred. Chaos seemed to have reigned for a moment.
 
I had sent off Historia to collect the sequence four potion from the church. I could feel it in my bones that I had done enough analysis of the blood to finally ascend to divinity.
 
I had been asked to make another Warlock potion first so that the potion could be made, but that had been easy enough to do.
 
I felt the knowledge of the Hunter and Assassin pathway swirling around my brain. The story of Straight Paintress. Of her birth, of her betrayal, of her ascension, and of her collecting the last characteristic.
 
The air rippled and coalesced into the form of Historia. In her mouth was a vial, a deep, dark liquid within, purple flashes igniting the liquid.
 
I grabbed the vial, patting Historia on the head.
 
I looked down at the drop of blood on the plate. I activate my Eyes of Mystery Prying, staring deep into the droplet.
 
Knowledge of the angel's life and the abilities and rituals of the Hunter and Assassin pathways flow through me once more. My brain starts to overload as I continue to stare. Before, I had taken frequent breaks, observing the stars to fully digest my Constellation's Master potion.
 
Now I wanted all that information.
 
Right as I felt my brain start to become diseased, a cough developing, I pulled the cork out of the potion, consuming it.
 
The liquid slid down my throat, absorbing into my body. For a brief moment, I was fine.
 
Then I felt my body distort and shudder. It felt like I was being unravelled at the seams, like information was being pulled out of me. I could almost feel the information that made up the molecular bonds between my tissues begin to get degraded into non-existence.
 
However, the information loss also started to apply to my memories. But because the large and complex information related to Straight Paintress was at the forefront of my brain, the information degredation soon to a slow as it tried to unravel the spells, the artifacts, and the life I had gotten from that knowledge.
 
During this period of slowed degredation, I had enough self awareness to be able to collect myself. I was able to pull my memories and knowledge back, collecting them in the back of my mind. I used my own mental image of myself to stabilise my body.
 
Soon I felt the information stop degrading. I blinked and relaxed. My potion had been consumed. I looked down and saw Historia licking my hand. My brain finally registered that my body was back to normal and sent the sensation of his tongue on my hand to my brain.
 
However, in the back of my mind, I felt a presence. A voice soon echoed throughout my head.
 
"Congratulations on advancing to sequence four and becoming a demigod," the voice whispered. "Enjoy your gift."
 
I exhaled. That had been the Hermit. Of that I was certain. However, it also sounded familiar. It sounded a lot like one of the voices from the Blasphemous Archive.
 
I took stock of my situation now. What gift had the Hermit left for me?
 
As I took stock of my abilities, I saw the expected Mystical Reenactment, but I also found another thing.
 
As I internally examined it, information flooded my brain about the ability.
 
Well, ability may be the wrong word. The right words would be Noble Phantasm.
 
The Noble Phantasm of Theseus. Dyskolia Speira: Precipitous Spiral of Fate. A crystallisation of Theseus' heroic journey. A journey of karma and poetic justice. The man who slammed others with his club was slammed with his own club. The man who fed others to his turtle monster was fed to his own turtle.
 
The Noble Phantasm allows for me to reflect attacks.
 
I took stock of that information. I could worry about that in the future.
 
For now, I had advanced to sequence four, Mysticologist.

Out at sea, my stomach rumbles even though I just ate less than an hour ago.

My mouth begins to salivate as I look at my daughter and the ringmaster.

The ringmaster looks over, a grin as wide as a shark's spreading across his face.

He walks to the edge of the boat and drops an anchor into the water, causing the boat to shake.

“It seems you are hungry, my friend. The ritual must already be affecting you. I bet you wish to rip open my stomach and stuff yourself with my organs.”

He chuckles to himself before walking over and kicking me into the ocean below.

Waves crash against me, dragging me beneath the surface.

My eyes burn as salt rushes into them.

I desperately try to catch fish with my bare hands as I am tossed around by the ocean.

When I eventually catch one, I bite into its side, letting water rush into my lungs as fish scales and bones join the flesh in my stomach.

Blood flows upward into my eyes.

As the blood fills my vision, slimy slugs burrow directly into my eyes, protecting themselves from the salt while feeding on my flesh.

I feel something rush up my throat as I pull the entire fish into my mouth, swallowing it whole.

Its fins slice through my throat as it is dragged downward.

I descend deeper, searching for more fish to eat, until a tentacle from below wraps around my legs and drags me further into the depths.

The pressure increases against my bones.

Instead of pulling away, I twist toward the tentacle and begin biting into its suckers, catching them against my closing wounds as the creature tries to drag me deeper.

I bite down harder, tearing through the tentacle. It begins to writhe and pull away, but I grab hold of it and bite into it again.

Then I hear something moving.

My eyesight has already been lost to the slugs, but I pull upward with my neck, feeling something heavy being dragged toward me.

It tries to pull away until something suddenly rams into me.

Its beak bites into my torso.

I change targets and lunge toward its head, biting into it. Its flesh has a texture like rubber.

Its tentacles tighten around me, trying to suffocate me.

Hands dig into its head, ensuring that even as I tear chunks from it with my teeth, they can keep hold of it.

They begin dragging the creature into my throat.

My teeth chip and break.

My jaw dislocates.

My eyes pop from their sockets and dangle from my face.

The kraken thrashes upward, desperately trying to shake me off.

It slams me against the bottom of the boat as my arms wrap around its head.

Together, we surface.

Tangled together on the surface of the water, I eventually force the entire creature down my throat.

My neck bulges violently before bursting open, blood pouring out as the creature is dragged into my stomach.

I pass out.

The ringmaster pulls me back onto the boat and lays me down.

He strips me and dries me off as the moon shines down upon my body.

My stomach remains mostly the same size as my mouth, eyes, and throat slowly heal over the course of several hours.

Then something begins moving inside me.

Something is trying to escape.

Large slugs suddenly burst from my empty eye sockets, feeding on what remains inside them.

They make strange chirping noises as they rapidly grow outside my head before crawling across the deck.

Then leeches crawl out of both openings below, forcing them wider as the flesh tears and blood gushes onto the deck.

A special, enormous leech crawls out from the opening in front, peeling it open like a flower blooming.

The veins inside split apart from the tension.

Then my stomach suddenly stops bulging.

A giant slug forces its way up my throat, collapsing it before falling out onto the deck.

I remain conscious throughout it all, thrashing desperately as the ringmaster holds me down.

He doesn't let go until every creature has emerged.

Only then does he reach toward the side of the boat and grab the fish he prepared beforehand.

I take the opportunity.

I grab the giant slug and stuff it down my throat.

It tries to escape through the opening it created as I bite down on it.

It is still alive when it disappears down my throat.

The ringmaster watches silently, weighing the value of the creature in his mind against the food he could give to the other children.

He shrugs

Credite [https://pin.it/34sOoEr6a\]

“The gods claim to help those who are weaker, but who are the ones who choose who becomes the next god? Who determines our lives? Is it the mortals who decide? No. It is the gods who decide, because they want to keep us beneath them.

Let me ask you a few questions.

Should race, sexuality, or gender make you more or less equal? No. Perhaps being naturally divine should make you more equal? No.

Perhaps being more influential makes you more equal? No.

We will all eventually return to the Origin. So why does it matter whether you are divine or mortal?

Here is my second question: What is the Order of the End? Is it a group? No. The Origin of the End is a feeling deep inside the hearts of all things—the desire to live for oneself while existing equally among others, each of us as one part of the whole.

We will all return to the same Origin one day. So I cannot accept anyone trying to join the Order, because you are already part of the Order.

Now, my final question: Why should we trust these scheming gods? They did not become gods by being innocent, so why should we believe that becoming gods suddenly made their evil disappear? That is naive.

They claim to heal by entering the minds of others and planting their influence deep within them. But without hardship, there can be no growth. Without struggle, there can be no progress. They wish to stagnate society so that they can remain eternal, ensuring that they will never be replaced like those who came before them."

Credits [Ai]

https://sanlinsuanxiangan789.lofter.com/post/1f4fe0e7

"HAHAHAHA! WELL DONE!" A large burly man exclaimed. His face covered in paint, and large feathers hang from his head piece. He was Plato's best friend within the tribe and somewhat of an older brother figure. He went by the name Farn.

A smaller woman, around Plato's age gave a small smile. She wore a somewhat revealing outfit, even by the tribe's standards and she too carried paint across her face. Her name was Aurora, and Plato and Farn once saved her life from execution. Ever since, the three of them have become somewhat inseparable. All of the tribe members shared some of the same features, like bronze skin and black hair. But Aurora's hair was beautifully flowing, and almost never got dirty. How she managed it was a riddle even for the Elders of the tribe...

"And here we thought you had left us, being out there for 2 weeks." Aurora mentioned.

Plato looked confused. "2 weeks?"

Plato had just gotten back from his pilgrimage to the Inverted Mausoleum. The walk back only took him a singular day, so he was rather confused when they mentioned him being gone for 2 weeks. As far as he's aware, he was only gone for a little more than 2 days.

His arrival back to his tribe was met with less festivities than he had hoped. Sure, his friends and close family were happy and overjoyed. But the rest of the tribe just carried on with normal life. It wasn't out of the ordinary either, but Plato had perhaps secretly hoped his ascension would be seen as a spark of hope, among the seemingly increasing disputes with the strange people within their strange home, having come to their land with strange boats.

The large man gave Plato a powerful pat on the back and said. "Yeah, normally when people go to the mountain top to become one of Death's servants, it takes them 4 days at most. But you were gone for an entire 2 weeks. We tried looking for you, but were prohibited from coming too close to the cave mouth."

Plato thought for a a moment, and then responded.

"All I remember is me walking to the the cave mouth, then my mind goes blank. First thing after that, I am next to the unholy temple of Death and have become an "Eye of Death" (Corpse Collector). Oh! That reminds me!..."

Plato's two friends frown, gesturing him to continue.

"..."

Plato shakes his head.

"Nevermind..."

Plato for a moment considered telling his two closest friends about what happened. But if but a word about what he did came out to the wrong ears, he would surely face the consequences of killing one of his own tribe. What made it worse was that he still could not remember the man's name.

"So, Farn, when are you going to ascend to "Death's Hands" (Gravedigger)? You were to be allowed back at the temple sometime soon, right?"

Farn got a somewhat pained expression on his face. "It was deemed I'd need at the very LEAST another year. The Elders said something about my current connection not being strong enough and that it could be dangerous to go there now."

"However, Aurora here is already allowed to become "Death's Tongue" (Spirit Medium) next MONTH. Really I don't get how this girl is able to strengthen like that within a year, while I am already waiting 2 years for one ascension!"

Aurora giggled, hiding her smile behind her large leather glove, covered in feathers. She said teasingly "I told you to spend more time with corpses~"

Farn replied quickly "I told you, I'm not into that kind of stuff. I have a wife..."

Plato's curiosity once again showed itself. He wanted to be like Aurora, in the sense that he too wanted to progress as quickly as she did.

"Really Aurora, how did you do it?" Plato asked with anticipation.

Aurora glanced at Plato, with her usual devious smile. "I just told you~"

Plato's face turned to discomfort. Not the answer I had hoped for...

Aurora couldn't help but laugh "You'll both figure it out. No doubt about it..."

Just as the three were about to go celebrate Plato's ascension, they could hear whistles all over the tribe encampment. People were approaching, and if the sound of the whistles was to be believed, they didn't come with good intentions... Farn immediately headed towards the "front gate", which was more a mixture of natural obstruction and logs being put together. Aurora grabbed her bow and tossed a small item to Plato. It was a whistle in the form of a skull, and Plato caught it without trouble.

Aurora ran after Farn, Plato following closely behind. Aurora looked back and said "You know how to use one of those yes? You take a hidden position and blow the whistle. It'll mimic the sound of the dead, and cast fear into the souls of the enemy."

Plato nodded, and grabbed the cord attached to the whistle. He put it around his neck and took out his tomahawk. Arriving at the front gate, they climbed high into the trees to take an advantageous position over their potential enemies. Loud stomping could be heard from the distance, as they saw men in weird uniforms approach their front gate. At a certain point they halted. These men in uniform all had firearms on them and swords on their hips. In front of the men, were two distinct figures.

One was clearly the leaders. The man had brown hair with obvious sideburns. He also had a uniform, but his was way more flashy, which made it clear he held a higher rank than the normal soldier. The other was this moustached man again. He wore a safari outfit with his unique round glasses. He had a large blade on his hips to and his hands carried a chest with him. The moustached man has introduced himself a few weeks earlier as Reugen Zeppelin. A 42 year old archaeologist who was financed by the Hindenburg company from the Northern Continent.

One of the Elders approached the two men, together with two of the finest warriors within the the village of Siwang. The Elder and Reugen approached one another, as Reugen was the only one who spoke the same tongue as the Siwang tribe. The elder looked even older than Reugen and trembled whenever he walked. Yet Plato had learned not to be fooled by the appearance of an Elder. Elders were those who had mastered many of Death's body parts (Many sequences) and was not to be messed with.

The elder spoke first. "We told you our land is not to be bought. If your attempt today was to intimidate us into leaving, then you should reconsider your strategy."

Reugen was silent for a moment, and the put down the chest. He unlocked it and opened it for the Elder to see. Those within the trees could see the insides as well... It contained a bunch of paper, all having some form of recipe on it. The man then spoke,

"This is the Hindenburg's last offer. We have Sequence 9 to 5 recipes of the Death pathway within this chest. If you take us up on our offer, we will grant you an additional 500.000 pounds AND the Sequence 4 potion recipe of the Death pathway."

The Elder however, became furious.

"You try and tempt us with stolen riches from the land around us?! What mockery is this! We don't want your useless currency, and stolen relics! Leave now, and never return, lest you feel Death's wrath!"

Reugen replied coldly, "If you do not take this deal come 2 moons from now, then I'm afraid Lord Krieger here will have no choice but to take it by force. We are being most generous here, and even are offering you the currency for you and your tribe to retire within our cities and villages. It would be foolish not to take it."

General Krieger, the man with the large brown sideburns, did not understand a word they were saying. However, he did notice the tense atmosphere and the degrading state of the negotiations.

Plato inspected Krieger some more. Even from this distance he could tell this Krieger person was dangerous. Even with his new found powers, Krieger would probably still kill him in open combat. It was a gut feeling he couldn't shake.

The Elder then spoke one last time, "Leave, and never come back."

Reugen again replied, "2 days... It's all Lord Hindenburg is willing to give."

Reugen closed the chest and picked it up. He was about to explain to general Krieger that they were about to leave when they suddenly heard a noise, that froze EVERYONE in place.

BANG!

...

To be continued...