-Sherlock Moriarty (Klein Moretti/The Fool)-
Loen Kingdom, Backlund, Hilston Borough, Queelag Club
The warm lights of the Queelag Club spilled across the polished wood floor as Sherlock Moriarty stepped inside, hat brim tilted slightly against the early afternoon haze that lingered beyond the door. A faint trace of tobacco and perfume hung in the air, mingling with the chatter of gentlemen relaxing between business and leisure.
In the corner, he spotted Talim Dumont. The equestrian teacher looked lost in thought, cane leaning against the table, his gaze fixed somewhere far away.
Should I greet him? Sherlock paused in consideration. He hasn't noticed me yet, and I need to ascend to the space above the Gray Fog—Sefirah Castle. I still have to divine Abel after our conversation at Harvest Church.
With a passing glance, Sherlock turned away and strode across the room, giving the impression of a man simply seeking privacy. He slipped into the corridor and pushed open the door to the toilet.
The door shut behind him with a soft click. He exhaled, letting his spirituality spread out in a thin layer, forming a translucent wall that sealed the space in silence and isolation.
Then, cane in hand, he began moving counterclockwise, muttering the familiar incantations:
"The Immortal Lord of Heaven and Earth for Blessings."
"The Sky Lord of Heaven and Earth for Blessings."
"The Exalted Thearch of Heaven and Earth for Blessings."
"The Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings."
The last words left his lips, and the world around him changed.
Gray Fog filled his vision, swallowing the walls, the floor, the smell of disinfectant. The distant, illusory ravings pressed faintly against his ears.
When Sherlock blinked again, he was seated high upon the majestic, mottled chair of The Fool.
His fingers tapped once against the armrest, eyes narrowing, before he materialized a sheet of paper with the words: Abel knows Sherlock Moriarty is The Fool.
Then, a pendulum appeared in his hand, the topaz hovering just above the paper as The Fool closed his eyes, silently repeating the words in his mind seven times.
Abel knows Sherlock Moriarty is The Fool…
Mr. Fool's eyes snapped open, his brows furrowing at the motionless pendulum. "Abel is a Sequence 9. I confirmed that when he appeared here…"
If the pendulum had turned clockwise, it would have meant Abel truly knew Sherlock Moriarty was The Fool. Counterclockwise would have been a denial. As long as the target of the divination was not more than two or three Sequences above him, it shouldn't have failed.
Klein's gaze drifted across the endless Gray Fog, when suddenly his eyes widened as a possibility struck him.
"Could the corruption in Abel be shielding him from divination?" The last time he'd tried to probe information about the Sefirah Castle, the pendulum had reacted in the exact same way. And Abel carried corruption from the Sefirah, its Fog inside him. Perhaps Abel was being protected… or seen as an extension of the Castle itself.
"Is that a question from Mr. Fool?"
The Magician tapped his armrest as he recalled Abel's words.
"Then, there's no need to answer, right? As The Lover of The Fool, I serve Him first and foremost. Everything else is secondary."
Klein's lips twitched at the phrasing, "Does he know? Or does he not? This fellow countryman is more of a charlatan than us Seers," he lampooned, though his expression soon turned serious. "But from how he used the capitalized pronoun 'He' for The Fool, even if he knows, Abel seems willing to keep quiet…"
"Then…is Earth Mother His ally? I'd assume a deity would know everything happening in Their own church?"
"Was this his way of showing goodwill by warning me?" Mr. Fool furrowed his brows, a realization dawning. "In fact, as a believer of Earth Mother, wouldn't he be afraid of revealing his faith in a hidden existence, especially when, as he said, a true god would be aware of everything in their church…"
The Seer's eyes widened, "The Earth Mother told Abel to chant The Fool's Honorific Name?" He didn't find it surprising that the Goddess could sense the Sefirah Castle, it was a similar thought he had regarding the Evernight Goddess too. Their perception is even higher than a Monster's.
Could it be…Earth Mother allowed me to meet a fellow countryman as a sign of goodwill? Klein's thoughts raced, Did She tell Abel that The Fool is, in truth, a mortal?
If so, what was their relationship, for the Goddess to trust him with such a secret… Blessed? More importantly, Is the Goddess investing in me? For what—
Klein thoughts went back to the mutters that had spilled from Abel's lips the first time he appeared within the Castle:
…Error.
Door…
…Fool…
Uniqueness…
Dominator… Spirit World…
Mysteries.
Sefirah Castle…
The Fool drummed his fingers against the armrest. "Could Earth Mother want me to become the God of the Seer, Marauder, and Apprentice pathways?"
He had already suspected the latter two were adjacent pathways of the Seer pathway, thanks to Roselle's diary. And according to the Black Emperor's Card of Blasphemy, Uniqueness was required to ascend as a True God.
"Dominator of the Spirit World…" He muttered, remembering Abel's warning that the Gray Fog attracted the gaze of Spirit World creatures. "It would make sense if that was one of His authorities."
He was referring to Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings, the existence he suspected had transmigrated him.
"Or is it Mysteries?"
No, the name didn't matter. At the end of the day, whether Celestial Worthy or Mysteries, He was the master of the Sefirah Castle.
And Klein knew—one day—he would have to confront Him.
A low exhale echoed through the ancient castle, and Mr. Fool's thoughts drifted, inevitably circling back to Earth Mother and Abel's relationship.
Earth Mother's relationship with Abel.
Klein stared at the words on the paper he had materialized, his lips twitching as he recalled how he had courted death when he divined Eternal Blazing Sun's blood, and now, he was about to do the same with Earth Mother.
"The divination might not work anyway. I don't have a medium, and the Goddess is more than three Sequences higher. It's likely to fail," he reassured himself, clinging to the certainty of his own words.
The Fool drew a deep breath, mentally repeating the statement seven times. He grabbed the paper and leaned back in his chair. Imagining the sphere of light, his eyes darkened, quickly allowing him to enter a state of Cogitation.
The surroundings took on an ethereal quality: a formless, boundless fog stretched above him. Klein recalled the contents of the paper, then relaxed, slipping into a deep, meditative sleep.
In the dream, the Seer found himself in a lush, jungle-like forest before the scene shifted to a wooden cabin.
In front of him was a head crowned with a wreath, hair golden and flowing. Just seeing Her from behind made Klein almost want to call her "Mom."
However, his attention was quickly drawn to the young man bowing before Her.
White hair and gold eyes.
"Thank you, Goddess."
Before the young man could straighten, the Goddess rose, drawing him into Her embrace. She lifted his head and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
"Think nothing of it, my Blessed Child."
The dream shattered. Klein found himself staring again at the familiar Gray Fog, a peculiar expression on his face. "Indeed, Abel is the Earth Mother's Blessed… but is that all he is?"
He did not linger on the thought of whether his fellow countryman had a sugar-mama Goddess, such speculation bordered on blasphemy. Instead, his focus was on a singular, undeniable fact: the divination had succeeded.
He hadn't courted death.
…..
-Abel De Sade-
Loen Kingdom, Backlund, Empress Borough, De Sade Manor
Mission: Rise, My Summons
Objectives:
Summon one of the Seven Lights✅
Learn about Native Summoner's✅
Contract a Messenger from the Spirit World✅
Make a connection with a Sanguine ✅
Reward: Empowered Summons - When you summon a creature, you are able to integrate other powers into the summon to empower the summoned creature. For example, if you had access to a spell that would grant the target increased physical strength, you can incorporate that effect into your summon to grant them improved physical strength. If you then learned how to make a potion capable of inducing regeneration, you could incorporate that into the summon to grant them regeneration or the ability to produce a healing substance that induces a weaker form of the effect. You can incorporate multiple such effects at once, but each one added uses up any resources that would normally be drawn from you to use them or some of your physical, mental, or magical stamina.
Seated in front of the study table in his room, with the oil lamp casting long shadows against the walls, Abel flipped through the Book of Shadows while going over what happened today.
The Monster hummed thoughtfully as he recalled his conversation with Mr. Fool.
"I think I might have revealed more than I should have."
He hadn't been as subtle about knowing Mr. Fool's identity as he ought to be. But the temptation of walking that fine line had been too amusing, and it wasn't as though Abel couldn't still feign ignorance if needed.
"Who knows? Maybe Sherlock really is a vessel of Divine Descent for the Fool," he mused. That would have been a better excuse for the detective, allowing him to correct the misconception of being merely a Blessed.
I suppose his grasp of the mechanics behind Divine Descent is lacking, Abel thought, and he was being cautious in case he slipped up.
He rubbed his chin, then shrugged. "If he knows that I know, then so be it. I can always claim it was thanks to Earth Mother. Beyond that… I'll just stay reactive."
The page flipped once more—
Moon Pathway: High Summoner
Hilarion had gone into great detail about this Sequence. The Sanguines called it Marquis, a title they wore with pride. Abel tapped the page, reading over the words.
A High Summoner could manifest what was called the Door of Summoning. An illusory Door etched with countless mysterious symbols, connecting to the Spirit World through the influence of the Moon.
Abel chuckled softly. "A door that opens to all sorts of trouble."
The strength and nature of what emerged depended on the contracts a Summoner had formed in their lifetime. A High Summoner with a strong network could even summon Angels they had agreements with, dragging "Them" directly into reality when needed.
But it wasn't without risk. Occasionally, the Door would misalign, pulling through anomalies that weren't Spirit World creatures, nor anything the Summoner had ever contracted. Some of those entities weren't even from this world at all, and instead from the vast Cosmos.
Hilarion had said more than a few Summoners died when that happened. Others… walked away with strange abilities or Sealed Artifacts whose powers didn't belong to any of the 22 pathways.
"The upper limit for an accident like that…" Abel muttered, rubbing his chin, "…is Sequence 3. Angels need large-scale rituals to cross the Barrier. Anything more is too conspicuous. Too loud." He repeated the words of the Orange Light with a thoughtful look.
It made sense now why the world wasn't long destroyed by the Outer Gods. There was a Barrier, the Astral Barrier, created by the Original Creator to protect Earth.
"Rational yet mad, converging and diverging…" Abel muttered, his fingers tapping the edge of the table. He could still hear Hilarion's words echoing in his mind, the way He described the Original Creator.
A being who was everything and nothing, who both made and unmade, whose instincts were to split apart even as He pulled everything back together.
"With just this basic knowledge He's given me, it's easy to understand where Beyonder Characteristics originated, and why the Law of Beyonder Characteristic Convergence exists." Abel leaned back in his chair, noting the similarities with H.P. Lovecraft. "The Original Creator is basically Azathoth. Like the Daemon Sultan, He's incapacitated. And like the Daemon Sultan, if He wakes… everything ends, as all things converge back into Him."
He tapped his fingers lightly against the table, weighing what to make of the information. After a moment's deliberation, the Monster only shrugged and turned another page of the Book of Shadows.
There wasn't much he could do with that knowledge, aside from maybe trading it for something useful. Money wasn't an option; he already had more than enough of that.
Demoness Pathway—
Sequence 9: Assassin.
Sequence 8: Instigator.
Sequence 7: Witch.
Sequence 6: Demoness of Pleasure.
Sequence 5: Demoness of Affliction.
Sequence 4: Demoness of Despair.
Sequence 3: Demoness of Unaging
Sequence 2: Demoness of Catastrophe
Sequence 1: Demoness of Apocalypse
Sequence 0: Primordial Demoness?
Abel didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the fact that the only pathway he knew all the sequence names of was the Demoness Pathway. "Is this because I'm Intisian?"
Shaking his head with a smile, he flipped to the section on the Demoness of Despair. After explaining to Hilarion why he wanted information on a Demoness capable of killing thousands in East Borough, the Orange Light had freely provided him with key details about the possible sequence involved.
As for why He'd gone so far as to reveal the names of Sequences 3, 2, and 1—
"If you approach knowledge with hesitation, it will slip through your fingers."
"But at the same time, some truths are better held lightly; others, if seized fully, may devour you."
"Fortunately, the latter doesn't affect you too much. What can be considered dangerous for others, is a boon for you."
Simply put, Hilarion enjoyed teaching. Whether to guide His students forward—or to warn them of hidden dangers—He always leaned toward sharing knowledge.
Anyway. Disgressions aside.
According to the Orange Light, the Sequences capable of causing—or having reason to cause—casualties on the scale of thousands were the Demoness of Affliction and Despair.
Demoness of Despair.
He read slowly, letting the words sink in. At this Sequence, all the abilities from the lower Sequences—Witch, Demoness of Pleasure, Demoness of Affliction—were not just preserved. They were magnified, sharpened, honed to deadly precision.
Plagues was the primary—but not only—ability that gets enhanced to a high degree in this sequence, evolving from Disease.
Hilarion had explained these weren't just ordinary plagues or diseases. They were enhanced pathogens, capable of spreading over kilometers, infecting the strongest of bodies, even siphoning away Spirituality. Strength and vitality could be drained until the heart itself failed. The dead were not exempt.
"I still wonder how that last one works," Abel mused. He had some guesses, perhaps corpse bombs, exploding bodies that spread plagues in their wake.
Spirituality and Strength Sapping Plague. Flesh Deterioration Plague. Rigidity Plague. All of them spreadable through fog, through smog, covering cities if necessary.
"A Demigod will indeed be the cause." He sighed, eyes lowering as he continued to read.
Their previous Thread ability now included their hair. Black flame, curses, pleasure, petrification, all could be passed through a Demoness of Despair's hair.
And of course you couldn't forget a Demoness' Charm, one of the reasons they're even called Demoness'. Beauty, enhanced to a spiritual and physical level that could ensnare even Mid Sequence Beyonders. Addiction-like infatuation that required mere seconds to take hold.
Dark Magic. Mirrors, Frost, Curses, each elevated beyond mortal comprehension. Mirror Mazes to trap, Mirror Divination to probe, Mirror Projection to scatter illusions across a city. Detecting Mirrors five kilometers away. Imbuing messages with curses to prevent interception. Ice amulets for Mirror World traversal.
The sheer versatility of this pathway was outrageous.
"Or maybe this is the sort of change that occurs when a Beyonder becomes a Demigod?" He imagined it: a Demoness of Despair, standing in the center of a city, plagues swirling, threads flying, mirrors multiplying illusions everywhere, people falling helplessly under her spell.
"Of course, I might be wrong. The one behind the East Borough smog could just as well be a Demoness of Affliction." On their own, though, that wouldn't be possible. A Sequence 5 Demoness could only spread plagues within fifty meters, a far cry from the kilometers a Demigod could cover.
But what if she carried a Grade 1 Sealed Artifact? Then, yes, it became completely possible.
The suspicion of an Affliction Beyonder came from what he'd learned about advancement rituals. Starting from Sequence 5, every promotion required a ritual, something to anchor the mind and keep a Beyonder from losing control.
A ritual he, fortunately, did not need, because he was Grounded.
"Right?" Abel asked aloud, glancing upward as if to address his patrons—his Other Self and Jump-chan—hoping they wouldn't force him to go through the full Beyonder experience. "For a pathway like mine, one that dances with Fate, Luck, Chaos, and Probability, does an advancement ritual even make sense?"
In his view, this pathway was like rolling dice. Land a six every time, and you advance. Fail, and you lose yourself.
For a Demoness of Affliction to advance into Despair, the ritual demanded the spread of a devastating plague, one involving over thirty thousand victims. The more that perished, the deeper the despair and suffering, and the stronger the ritual's effect.
The East Borough smog he'd seen in his dream could very well be an advancement ritual. Still, Abel chose to assume it was the work of a Demigod. One who was perhaps acting and causing despair to digest her potion.
"Better to overestimate than to underestimate." His thoughts drifted to Aurora Order who would be working hand-in-hand with the Demoness Sect to orchestrate this disaster.
Obsession Whispers nagged at him, telling him something was missing. Yes, the Aurora Order wanted the True Creator to descend, and yes, the Demoness Sect would create the smog, but those were only smokescreens. Something else was hidden beneath.
"0-08…." Even with what he knew about the Sealed Artifact and its ability to twist coincidences, his perk whispered that it wasn't the true mastermind Sherlock believed it to be.
Who was, he couldn't say. What mattered more was reducing casualties, ideally, preventing them entirely.
"Me and my bleeding heart," the white-haired young man muttered with a wry smile. "Celestine might be able to handle the Demoness, considering she asked for a Demigod characteristic. That could also mean she can't kill one on her own."
His earlier idea—to corrupt the Demoness with Outer God knowledge—remained on the table. He realised that with Dream Energy, he could weave an auditory illusion, shielding nearby civilians from being affected.
"The only real problem is when. I need to know when it'll happen, so I can be there. And then there's the matter of surviving long enough to even get close to a Demigod…"
He exhaled slowly, snapping the Book of Shadow shut, and made his way to his bed.
A new summoning might be in order.
….
Dream Plane
"Throughout Heaven and Earth, I alone am the Honoured One."
Floating above the De Sade mansion, Abel chuckled after quoting the famous line of Gojo Satoru. His silver eyes swept across the Empress Borough, which looked almost identical to the waking world, save for the countless pink, violet, and rose-colored phosphorescent bubbles drifting through the air.
Yet compared to his first visit to the Dream Plane, the Monster noticed something new.
Among the usual spheres shimmered larger, oval-shaped illusions, bubbles that blended the three familiar hues of Dream Energy into one.
"Dream Bubble?" Abel muttered, making a reasonable guess as he drifted toward one of the many scattered before him.
He floated toward one of the large noble houses, its spires and carved stone clear even through the dream-haze. The mansion carried a few glowing dream bubbles, some bright, some dull. Not everyone was dreaming, but the few that were pulsed faintly with colors.
He reached for one bubble, and pressed his hand against it. The scene spilled into his mind, and his lips curled in disgust.
"Tch." For a moment, he'd forgotten dreams often showed fantasies.
Inside a bedroom was a fat, oily-faced nobleman naked, his rolls of flesh spilling like dough. Abel knew the man, he was Viscount Graeme.
And tied to the bed, arms and legs spread, gagged with tears streaking her cheeks, was a girl he recognized instantly. Emerald eyes, soft blonde hair, beauty so radiant it outshone women twice her age.
"Audrey," Abel muttered, the name of his acquaintance slipping out before he realised.
The dazzling gem of Backlund.
He should have expected it. That someone like Graeme, the typical looking Japanese ugly bastard, would harbor such fantasies of violating her.
"I guess I found my first test subject," Abel said, a cruel smile tugging at his lips.
….
-Viscount Graeme-
Graeme felt like the greatest man alive. He had kidnapped Backlund's dazzling gem, the treasure every noble whispered about but none could touch. And now she lay before him, gagged, bound, staring tearfully up at him.
That look—fear mixed with despair—only made his heart pound harder. His groin twitched with excitement.
"Heh… so perfect," he wheezed, his grubby hand sliding up her smooth legs. He licked his lips, savoring the way she trembled under his touch.
The thrill was intoxicating. He could barely breathe. But then—
Clang!
One of the chains snapped, and her leg shot forward, kicking him square in the stomach. Graeme stumbled back with a grunt, coughing.
His face twisted with rage.
"You bitch…! I was being kind. Giving you foreplay!" he snarled, spittle flying. Forgetting all patience, he clambered onto the bed, grabbing her thighs with sweaty palms. He forced them apart violently, lining himself up, grinning cruelly at her dread.
"You'll be mine, gem of Backlund. All mine!" he barked, hips pulling back before thrusting forward in one fell swoop.
"Huh?" Graeme froze.
There was no familiar wet heat, no tender flesh wrapping his shaft like a silken sheath. Instead, it felt… wrong. Empty.
He looked down, frowning in confusion. He was inside her, yes. He could see it. But the feeling was nothing like he imagined.
His eyes lifted back up.
And then his blood froze.
Where Audrey's tearful face had been, was now a stranger's. Black hair, red eyes, and unmistakably masculine.
"Is something wrong?"
The gag was gone, and Not-Audrey tilted her head sweetly, the feminine body moving with exaggerated cuteness. The voice was a playful mockery.
Graeme tumbled back in horror.
His eyes darted down—
—and what he saw ripped a shriek from his throat.
Where Audrey's womanhood should have been was no longer flesh, but a gaping mouth lined with sharp, bloody teeth. The muscles convulsed, gnashing, drooling blood.
Not-Audrey smiled wide, almost lovingly.
"I wanted to make sure you enjoyed me," the voice teased. "Don't you think I've done such a good job? Go on, look down."
Graeme's eyes snapped to his own groin, shaking his head in denial.
But there was nothing there. His manhood, gone. Only his sack remained, blood dribbling from the mutilated stump.
The pain hit him all at once. His scream was high, piglike, echoing as he collapsed onto the sheets, writhing, before finally vanishing into motes of light as the dream collapsed.
Not-Audrey stood amidst the breaking dream, smiling in amusement as the pieces of fantasy crumbled away.
….
-Abel De Sade-
"All in a day's work," A satisfied smile spread across the Monster's now androgynous face, his red eyes glinting with schadenfreude as he felt his characteristic, that imaginary loading bar, digest a little.
Using the Dream Plane to digest his potion was an idea that he had after seeing Sherlock's blazing Living Dream Energy in the Harvest Church.
Abel wasn't sure if it would work, and he still wasn't sure if the potion digested because Viscount Graeme woke up, or if it digested from his reaction in the dream.
"Likely the former." He was leaning to the first guess as the potion only digested after the dream bubble collapsed. The Viscount likely woke up, and then the digestion occurred.
Still, Abel couldn't help but smirk. He had found a way to be very productive. The Dream Plane let him act without pause, day or night. If this kept up, he could probably shorten the usual time it took. A month was considered the fastest, but now, he could probably do it in twenty days if he grinds. Two weeks, if he really pushed.
"Please don't resist, people of Backlund," he chuckled. "You're going to be helped and scared in equal measure."
A stray thought suddenly crossed his mind, "I wonder, did Graeme die?"
…..
A day later whispers spread like wildfire through the noble circles of Backlund. The once-proud Viscount Graeme had been found dead in his bed, face twisted in an expression of unspeakable horror, body untouched, as though something had strangled his heart in the middle of a dream.
++++
A/N: Idk what got into me at the end. I did that viscount really dirty.
Also, I think I should talk about how Klein managed to divine Earth Mother, a True God. Well, the simplest way to put it is Amnises (Evernight Goddess) being responsible. Amnises was present, Concealed in the Dream with Lilith, and as the True God of the Darkness pathway Evernight has the greatest Authority over Dreams.
And for those who remember, Evernight was able to send down characteristics from Sequence 9-1 of the Seer pathway when Klein transmigrated. This was because of Antigonus who she used to influence the Sefirah Castle. So, as long as Klein did a Dream divination, Amanises could influence to a degree.
Anyway, back to the last scenes. I decided that a timeskip is long overdue, so we now see how Abel will begin digesting his Monster characteristic. First it's gonna be a three day one, until it's time to meet Xio again for information, along with Hunter formula and ingredients from Emlyn. Then a day or two later is the first Tarot Club. After that will be a bigger half a month or month time-skip.