The Supreme Being is eternal, immortal, and is among you. It is your selfishness that prevents you from knowing it.
...
He is whispering.
Every syllable of His entices the soul, making one spontaneously want to believe and surrender.
The truth is terrifying; all cruel things are horrifying. They can only exist on a distant display stand for the world to admire.
Nearby, once these great and noble things fall to the mortal realm, the dust and ripples they stir up, their breaths and exhalations, will bring destruction and easily overwrite a person's reason.
The truth lies naked in the center of the universe, yet no one has yet deciphered it.
Come, embrace me, embrace the truth that belongs to you, my successor, my "child," my apprentice, my most perfect successor...
My Zhou Mingrui.
"No..."
Klein shook his head and muttered to himself.
Even though his reason had collapsed and his hope had vanished, he still did not lose his integrity or dignity, nor did he beg for God's care like a dog.
The whispered voice didn't seem to belong to the "mysterious" category; the unfamiliar tone and persuasive manner were quite different from the "mysterious" atmosphere that Klein was familiar with.
But both spirituality and logic told him that the person blocking the way was the master of the gray fog, an ancient deity revered as "mysterious" and adorned with a crown.
This is undoubtedly a contradiction.
The sinister plot is about to disregard its true purpose, revealing its true intentions, and once again sincerely offers apples to the confused.
He found a rare pleasure in imitating the story of bringing shame upon his enemies.
The golden scepter shimmered with light, and not only did the throne collapse, but the body of the man on the throne also ceased to exist as a human at this moment.
Large cracks expanded into obvious gaps, exposing more of the hidden essence to the air.
The "victim" jumped around merrily, its short, stocky body swaying back and forth, clumsily swinging its arms to grab Klein's trouser leg, pulling and shaking it.
It clumsily imitated a child, laughing in a seemingly innocent way.
"Come on, take your spoils."
"No..."
Klein was still resisting.
He covered his face, his legs went weak, and he collapsed to his knees at the bottom of the steps, too afraid to look at the throne above.
The thing, disguised as a "victim," scratched its head in distress, then transformed into an old man with a kind face in the front and the signs of overwork common to most middle-aged and elderly men in the back.
"Mingrui, stand up."
"You're a grown man now, and you want to cry!"
One face was red, the other white, but both were faces that Klein knew best.
His gaze, peeking through his fingers, fell in terror at the two faces that had given him life and occupied most of his existence, and he involuntarily wanted to lower his hands.
The dream that had just shattered before his eyes showed signs of coming back together in the illusion. Klein's eyes gradually became hazy, and a momentary, extremely incongruous cowardice appeared on Gehrman Sparrow's face, which resembled that of an elf.
As the "victim" gazes upon the results of its efforts, its smile grows ever brighter, yet its pretense subtly shifts.
The mixture of flesh and clay that sculpted the old man's appearance melted, creating a divergence on the doll's smooth head shell. Two opposing wills clashed, eventually reaching a compromise.
Peng Deng opened his eyes, pouting helplessly. Knowing Zhou Mingrui's character well, he only felt unlucky.
But now that things had come to this point, he couldn't give up, so he had no choice but to bite the bullet and continue smiling.
"Old Zhou, don't make me look down on you, I..."
Bang!
A powerful repulsive force, defying the rules, rose from all directions, violently seizing the "victim's" neck and forcibly pressing several cracks into the doll's hard shell.
Klein's outstretched hand hung suspended in mid-air, having lost its target.
He turned his head blankly, following the origin of the repulsive force, and was met with a black robe that was slightly fluttering.
The "Angel of Time" with its distinct knuckles pierced through Klein's vision, picking up the "victim" who could no longer move no matter how much he resisted. Behind the crystal-polished glasses, all was a deep black.
"This is the oldest fraudster. It seems he's nothing special, not even as good as me."
Amon, with a stern face, uttered a flippant sarcasm.
He observed the "miracle" for a while, then found it really boring, so he took action.
Boring, yes, it's because it's boring... Amon's fingers flicked, stealing the murmurs that had been entangled with Klein as they slipped away from the "victims," and expertly packed up these scraps, preparing to throw them to some lucky true god in the astral plane next.
"You too can wield the scepter."
Even with their fates choked by the throat, something behind the "victims" still doesn't forget to tempt them.
"Why?" Amon asked, raising an eyebrow with curiosity. "I don't need the power of the storm. I have gathered all the foundations to become 'mistake,' and I only lack a ritual."
"That was a passive ritual."
"Passive...a good adjective."
Because he was holding something, Amon's clapping looked rather perfunctory.
Indeed, the sequence of "errors" is exactly as its name suggests, carrying the act of "theft" throughout.
To ascend to the throne of Sequence Zero, one must steal the destiny of another true god during His ordination ceremony, and take His crown as a lowly thief.
"That's why you need this scepter even more; it can help you play the role of the 'God of Mystery'."
The "victims" seized the opportunity to discard what they considered their most important bargaining chip.
"To play the role of the 'God of Mysteries'?"
Amon chewed over the keywords, his dark eyes behind his monocle narrowing slightly.
Klein remained kneeling behind Amon, lost and without purpose or meaning in the future. He couldn't see Amon's expression, nor did he care to investigate it.
Otherwise, he would discover a fact that would shock him and the gods.
"Yes, playing the role of the 'God of Mystery,' while replacing a true god who has already completed the ritual, will not effectively help you meet the conditions to become the 'wrong,' but 'stealing' is never rigidly focused on just one target."
"Once you are fully united with the spirituality remaining within the scepter, you can ascend to my kingdom and drag out the 'mysterious god' hiding there."
"He has lost his uniqueness and has no courage to return to reality and reassemble. He is no match for you. You can enjoy his corpse and then get all of 'The Fool'."
"At that time, it won't be a problem for you whether you release Bethel Abraham or force the ritual through the 'mistake' and 'fool' that complete the initial assembly."
"'Angel of Time,' 'God of Deception,' 'Son of God,' you were born because of me, but you are trapped in an imperfect body because of a despicable dictator."
"In the thousands of years of wandering, I have seen too many successors. Zhou Mingrui may be very good, but you are more suitable than him. It is also more in line with my wishes for you to inherit my authority."
"After all, you are also a part of me. I can accept whichever version of me returns."
Amon silently endured the "victim's" rambling.
He lowered his head slightly, his monocle hidden in the shadow cast by his hair, making it even harder to see his expression.
With each additional word spoken by the "victim," the curve of his lips became more pronounced, until both sides fell silent.
"ha..."
Amon let out a long sigh, with a smile on his face.
"Interesting, interesting."
"So you mean... oh, I see, it's a script I'm familiar with."
Amon tightened his grip on his five fingers, and in the center of his other empty palm, a warm and pure light was poised to be unleashed.
"Kill the mentally unstable God, divide His legacy—heart, brain, arms—everything about God is a treasure, so whichever part you seize is a victory."
Under pure power suppression, even if the "Thief" path is not known for its physical strength, it is enough for Amon to crush the head of the "Sufferer".
"You're right. Taking this scepter and becoming the next 'mystery' is just a piece of cake for me."
"It's even possible that because I inherited Him, even Roman won't say anything. Instead, he'll calm down immediately after his outburst and become an angel under my command."
He "cheated" the rules; the "victim" lost his head, his broken neck was forcibly twisted, and the Creator's scorching heat melted the doll's outer shell into a viscous gel, temporarily sealing off the release of extraordinary properties.
Amon strode up the long steps, glanced at the man who was like a statue, whose only signs of life were his breathing and the movement of his eyes, his lips twitched slightly, and without saying a word, he snatched the scepter from the man's arms.
The consciousness hidden within the "sufferer" dissipated; it seemed to be trying to hide its embarrassment, or perhaps it was simply a sigh, as it muttered to itself.
"If you really know me as well as you say, you should understand that I prefer adventure to what is readily available."
"What is rightfully mine will be mine."
Amon shoved the scepter, about the length of an adult man's forearm, into the arms of the distraught Klein, an act that could be described as brutal.
He grabbed Klein's hair and forced Klein to look at him.
It was a familiar face... Amon maintained that awkward smile, his monocle reflecting the spirit world projection on the Storm Wall.
"Do you wish to report back to Him, or do you want to stay and come with me?"
The Son of the Creator has given mortals two equal choices.
Klein blinked blankly, forced to think about the problem.
The words of the Angel King were almost delirious, yet they were directly injected into his brain, making it impossible for him to ignore them or deal with them despite his poor mental state.
That's when he suddenly realized that this "angel of time" seemed to be using Chinese from beginning to end.
During the conversation between Amon and the "victim," they spoke Zhou Mingrui's native language.
Did I teach Him... no, did "Mystery" teach Him?
Klein finally regained a bit of his senses, clutching the power in his arms, picking up the damaged "victims" that the "Angel of Time" had also thrown at him, and struggling to his feet while supporting himself on his knees.
He mustered his courage and used his hand to push away the hand that was gripping his head from Amon's, asking listlessly.
"I don't want to think about these questions."
Facing Amon's potentially mocking gaze, the expressionless Klein continued.
"Here... no, who was the one I was talking to just now?"
Clearly, only something of the same rank as "mystery" could create such an illusion.
"Him?"
Amon was somewhat surprised by the question, not expecting Klein to care about such a trivial matter first.
However, now that things have come to this, there's no need to continue hiding it. Amon paused for a moment before answering honestly.
"An old thing, an old thing that we all have to face."
Faced with a somewhat vague answer, Klein remained silent for a long time. He vaguely realized the reason for Amon's ambiguity and silently pondered the man's possible identity. After a long while, he finally spoke in a hoarse voice.
"Is that so?"
"Thank you, I think I know who He is now."
The scepter in his arms was changing shape at a speed visible to the naked eye, from a short shape to a long one. When the series of movements stopped, the object could no longer be called a "scepter"; its length was more like a "staff" used by a wizard.
It looks perfectly suited to Klein's imperial attire.
The "victim" has also stabilized. Although it lost its head, Klein can still feel the power of the "trickster" sleeping inside the seal when he touches it.
Although the process was fraught with difficulties and bizarre events, Klein has undoubtedly completed the task assigned to him by "Mystery".
The unexpected appearance of "Time Angel" Amon, and strangely, unlike the stories Klein had heard, did not place him on the opposite side of the "mysterious" will.
It was as if His appearance this time was nothing more than an ordinary spring outing.
"So you're going to report back to Him?"
It was that fatal question again, but behind Klein's dim eyes lay utter calm.
"If I don't go, what else can I do?"
The war in the Rothschild Islands continues, the conflict instigated by Klein remains unresolved, and the continuous deaths replace the pen and ink, writing the course of history.
Zhou Mingrui is a person with a very strong sense of responsibility.
I don't know if this statement is correct. Perhaps his sense of responsibility stemmed from his inability to make a decision. When he was forced to choose, his pathetic cowardice and moral guilt came back to haunt him, and he was pushed to reluctantly take on everything.
But to outsiders, he is an extremely responsible person.
A generous and righteous fool who would sacrifice himself for strangers.
"I still have an unfinished promise; I cannot leave with you."
He avoided answering because he couldn't control the consequences of his actions. To cover up his incompetence, he decided to find a noble reason to justify his avoidance.
In an instant, Klein's gaze hardened. He resorted to his old trick, using so-called obligations to bind himself, forcing his reason not to consider the true name of the land beneath his feet, the end of his era, or the meaning of his true identity.
It's laughable that a mortal without any divinity would bare his fangs at the son of the Creator, who is endowed with divinity.
This action did not surprise Amon; on the contrary, it made His smile no longer seem out of place.
His joy came from the bottom of his heart.
"interesting."
The figure of the divine child seemed much thinner, but when He opened His palms, and the visualized time was forged into the bell tower that broke through the ground by His will, He still displayed an unassailable authority.
"You can try."
The uniqueness of the "error" burst forth with indescribable brilliance, and the reappeared divine light shattered the storm wall, even causing the pollution brewing on the islands above the seabed to shrink.
The rules etched on the back of the world's nothingness revealed a corner to Klein at this moment, and reality took on a concrete form.
Do not look directly at God… Recalling the proverbs of the Fourth Age, Klein turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on the smooth, spear-like, bone-white creation.
To accept it means to accept the ancient spirituality that has settled within it... it means that Zhou Mingrui can no longer escape the past he has walked through.
Compared to what we are about to face, even the "mysterious" conspiracy seems insignificant and laughable.
Thus, he also grasped the scepter, and the surface of the headless "victim" cracked more, as he willingly accepted the divine contamination caused by the overflow of the seal.
The black emperor raised his power high, and the seven lights of the spirit world pressed down from above, responding to the Lord's call.
Far beyond the five seas, atop Mount Hornachis, a momentary gap appeared in the relentless storm and the darkness, and the fingertips of the monster, sprawling from corpses, trembled.
Then, the thick, dark blue light shot straight into the sky, washing away everything in its path. The light enveloped the entire Rosd Islands, and even the "Tyrant," sensing the danger, could not send a bolt of lightning into the earth despite his best efforts.
Destruction and rebirth seemed to occur simultaneously, and the Rothschild Islands became a kind of paradise, isolated in an independent space.
In an inconspicuous corner beneath the islands, the figure of the "Time Angel" had vanished.
He had long since moved his physical form and disappeared, leaving only the black emperor, completely submerged in shadow, standing on the chalky wasteland.
Trillions of pounds of deep, malevolent seawater poured into the mausoleum after it returned to reality.
The deafening roar was like a celebratory gift, naturally echoing the ancient verses, and the gears of fate, which had been stuck for so long, began to turn again.
...
Now, I have become Death, the destroyer of the world.