"First, I must warn you: some things I can only share in part. Certain secrets draw unwanted attention, and knowing them too soon could bring disaster," I say, clearing my throat as I face Klein. When he nods, I smile and continue, "Before I answer, I need to confirm something: what did your captain see when he encountered the 'True Creator'?"
This is critical. As the High-Dimensional Overseer, I need mortal eyes to gauge the True Creator's current state. To an outer god, even Alista Tudor or Black Emperor Roselle's madness is mundane. In my eons wandering the cosmos, I've witnessed far crazier spectacles than these mortal gods.
What did he look like? Klein rubs his head, recalling Captain Dunn's description: "A cross—a massive cross filling the sky. On it, a naked man, nailed with black iron spikes, arms spread, feet pinned above, head drooping like a pendant. His body was streaked with blood. But the captain said his face held a resolute emotion, surrounded by filthy darkness and writhing flesh…"
"Got it," I nod. "As for your question, I'll put it in terms you can grasp: the True Creator, in a sense, is the 'first transmigrator,' hailing from the same 'world' as us. Through my deity's talks with Him, He wishes to connect with the being behind you. It's a gesture of goodwill."
I chuckle. "Of course, in this world's terms, it's the True Creator taking a special liking to you, urging you to serve at His throne. But would you accept that phrasing?"
As a modern, upright youth, Klein clearly wouldn't.
"Also, when Old Neil was tainted by the Hidden Sage, the True Creator intervened to help you. Without that, Neil would've lost control completely, facing only death. At that level of evil god corruption, only a deity could save him. That should prove His sincerity. I trust you can see the logic, Klein. But I bet you have more questions, don't you?"
Klein nods, pressing, "Then how do you explain the Aurora Order's actions targeting the Antigonus family notebook? I saw Sirius's letters with Mr. Z."
I adopt a "silent" stance, pausing before speaking slowly. "That's a historical remnant, Klein. Did you know, in the Fourth Epoch, the True Creator was the orthodox deity of the Solomon Empire?"
"But He went mad…"
In the Forsaken Land, the True Creator and I, the High-Dimensional Overseer, huddle together, watching my human self recount an untainted history of the Fourth Epoch to Klein. We carefully excise words and knowledge that could pollute, leaving deliberate gaps in the tale.
Halfway through, the Evernight Goddess slips in. While observing my "live broadcast," she sprinkles harmless "details" into the mix.
I meticulously strip out knowledge of true gods, narrating only as an observer of nations clashing. Yet even this sanitized account weighs heavily on Klein, as if peering through fog at a crazed era that treated lives like straw.
Only Ancient Gods understand Ancient Gods. Under our veiled machinations, even Adam fails to notice we've exposed Klein to pivotal information that could sway him—after all, the purely divine Adam, though a King of Angels with Ancient Sun God memories, can't detect the schemes of two true gods and an Ancient God.
This history alone plants a seed heavy enough to tip Klein's still-tender scales. But, wary of the Wind-White-Wisdom trio flipping the table, I heed the Evernight Goddess's insistence and avoid slandering them.
Klein trudges down the street, dejected. He didn't learn how to return home from me—a bitter chuckle escapes as he mocks himself. Our talk suggested the Aurora Order and I, his fellow transmigrator, bear no ill will. But my parting words linger, drawing a sigh.
"If you trust me, contact the being behind you. We'll communicate with Them," I said earnestly, handing him a note. "Here are two honorific names. If your life's in danger, pray to Them."
Klein glances at the note, memorizing the honorifics—one for the True Creator, the other likely for my deity—plus a messenger-summoning incantation. He resolves not to use them unless desperate. He's certain I and the True Creator, branded an evil god, mean no harm—for now. But what if? What if the gray fog he ascends to holds some unique trait, and these gods want him to chant their names for some sinister purpose? He'd die unjustly!
Muttering to himself, Klein heads to the security company, the Nighthawk team's base, to report the sealed artifact's paper. He once dreamed of using his past life's knowledge to found an international charity, covertly funding workers' resistance to challenge the elite and uplift the masses.
But…
Recalling the last epoch—Extraordinaries running rampant, lives worthless; gods and angels walking the earth, bringing calamity—Klein feels suffocated.
Sighing, he trudges heavily toward the company. His dreams of stability seem impossible now.
…
Above the gray fog, in a grand, ancient temple, a mottled bronze table sits silently.
Shrouded in thick gray-white mist, I, Klein, sit at the head, watching the still-blurry Justice and Hanged Man materialize in their usual seats.
Miss Justice's emotions are unstable—worry, unease, confusion… With my spiritual vision active, I notice the Tarot Club's sole female member's anomaly at a glance. Though a day has passed since learning the truth, my mood remains low, so I don't dwell on Audrey's state. To Audrey and Alger, my demeanor appears as enigmatic authority.
"Greetings, esteemed Mr. Fool," Audrey says. Despite the shock of Susie suddenly speaking, the words I left on her sleeve—transferred via 0-08—have subtly influenced her, urging her to ask about the "white moon" after my reading time.
After discussing Beyonder pets, Audrey presents a page, respectfully handing it to me. The new gain lifts my spirits, dulling the shock of learning Adrian and I are the True Creator's favored.
Chatting idly with Audrey, I glance at the diary's opening lines: "December 20th, another year looms, but the scattered feedback I've received leaves me baffled and troubled."
"This world has no oil! No oil at all!"
No oil… My pupils contract, a mix of emotions swirling. Without oil, Earth's oil-based industrial systems can't develop. No wonder Zekai mentioned the God of Steam when discussing the last epoch's history…
Though vague about divine history, Adrian's words held oddities. Through "Roselle Gustav," a transmigrator, the Artisan God only pushed the era to steam power, renaming Himself the "God of Steam and Machinery." I'd assumed Roselle skipped that tech tree, but now I suspect this planet's limitations stunted progress.
At the diary's end, I read: "December 23rd, perhaps I should consider that proposal, securing a fallback outside the Church of the Artisan God, like joining that ancient, secretive organization quietly shaping world affairs?"
The page ends, leaving me speechless. Emperor, what's this ancient, secretive group? One I don't know?
Adrian mentioned a Third Epoch organization secretly influencing the world. Is it the same? I asked, and he said it wasn't that he wouldn't tell me, but couldn't… Damn, why does he feel like he's got Zaratul's template while I'm stuck with Roselle's? I'm the Seer here! How's he more cryptic than me?
I speculate, grumbling inwardly. Setting the diary down, I face Audrey and Alger, my thoughts drifting to Adrian's pathway.
Seeing "Mr. Fool" finish reading, Audrey exhales, shifting into her "Spectator" state. With a gentle smile, she says, "I'd like to know if there are sequence potions named 'Arbiter' or 'Actor,' and what kind of Beyonder can pass through wooden doors or negate locks?"
That's the Abraham family's Apprentice ability… My 'hometown' friend seems reliable, not lying or pretending to know… Maybe it's tied to his 'cheat'. I start to respond, but "Hanged Man" Alger cuts in.
After Audrey promises to "investigate if the Loen king intends war," Alger explains eloquently, but on "Actor," he frowns, shaking his head in ignorance.
Audrey, unfazed, leans back gracefully, acknowledging his response. When she doesn't press, Alger glances at the bronze table's head. "Esteemed Mr. Fool, may I ask: is the 'Sanctuary' the Aurora Order preaches for the True Creator the legendary 'Forsaken Land'?"
Sanctuary? Adrian just mentioned that! On True Creator matters, I'm the expert as His favored. Tapping my armrest, I adopt a profound air, fixing Alger with a stare that pressures him spiritually. After a pause, I say in a low voice, "Yes."
Alger's pupils widen, his voice failing. Gasping, he avoids my mist-shrouded gaze. Audrey, reading his expression, wants to ask about the Forsaken Land but senses the tense silence. As the Tarot Club grows quiet, she recalls the strange painting. With an elegant smile, she says, "Mr. Fool, I recently saw an odd painting."
A painting? Odd? I shake off the Aurora Order's shadow, reclaiming some "Fool" gravitas. Leaning into my massive chair, I feign intrigue.
"It depicted Desi Bay, beautifully done," Audrey says, awkwardly manifesting the painting in the gray fog space as she did her notes. When I see it, my body stiffens. Audrey's soft voice drifts from my side: "Mr. Fool, why is the moon in this painting white?"
I turn, staring at the oil painting. Waves flow across the canvas, pure white moonlight bathing the coast, lending an unmatched serenity.
It's pure white moonlight.
(End of Chapter)