Lanevus stands at the port, brimming with confidence. He pats the wallet tucked against his chest, chuckling at the thought of the cash he swindled, now safely stashed in Backlund. Lately, the Punishers have been relentless, meticulously checking everyone leaving Tingen. To evade their pursuit, Lanevus opted for the safer sea route.
Once I'm gone, I'm never coming back. I'll settle in Backlund or elsewhere, buy some properties, and live as a carefree tycoon. Or maybe use my silver tongue to outwit merchants… The Aurora Order? Ha, what a joke. They're obsessed with summoning the "True Creator" for divine descent. I'm not joining their evil god rituals—let those fools die!
"That's him! Seal the port! The blasphemer's here!" A furious shout interrupts Lanevus's smug reverie. A Punisher leaps high, brandishing a greatsword, swinging it toward Lanevus's head. Sensing danger, Lanevus conjures a faint illusion, subtly disrupting the Punisher captain's mind. The blade grazes past, smashing into the ground and splitting the earth. Lanrwus rolls aside, sprinting toward the city.
"Hm, what's happening outside?" In a café near the port, Benson sets down his grammar book, rubbing his temples irritably. A loud commotion just yanked him from his studies.
"Nothing major—probably the Punishers chasing a criminal. Don't worry, keep studying," I, Adrian, say, sipping coffee. My right hand sketches on a sheet of paper, crafting a landscape. The drawing depicts a breathtaking courtyard, too exquisite for this world. Yet, an eerie strangeness permeates it. If I had to compare, its style resembles Picasso's late abstract works—unsettlingly bizarre.
A realist landscape with abstract composition. The scene fuses in bizarre, illogical ways, like a glitch in a game or a spatial distortion.
"Oh." Benson nods, diving back into his book. As a seasoned worker, he knows his role as my liaison hinges on his slightly above-average eloquence. Seizing this rare chance, he studies grammar diligently to bolster his skills. I'm pleased by his initiative, creating opportunities for him to learn.
Not bad for Klein's brother, I muse, taking another sip, watching Lanrwus flee in panic from my window seat.
"Why are the Punishers after me so fast? Don't the Lord of Storms' followers usually take ages to sniff out a case like this?" Lanevus fumes, baffled. He joined the Aurora Order's divine descent plot for profit but fled Tingen's branch after it inexplicably collapsed. Even Megose, with whom he shared intimate moments, now carries an evil god's child from the ritual, driving him near madness with fear.
Someone snitched! Was it the Aurora Order mess? Damn Storm Church—only now do they hunt heretics so eagerly! When I was just scamming money, they couldn't care less! Cursing inwardly, Lanevus veers into an alley. I shake my head, a smirk tugging at my lips.
Heh, Lanevus is done. That alley leads straight to a Nighthawk squad. Hope the Evernight Goddess warned Her followers so these poor souls don't die from the True Creator's pollution.
In the Forsaken Land, I, the High-Dimensional Observer, nudge my avatar, addressing the True Creator. "Your move, True Creator. Unleash your divinity. To keep Adam from noticing, I'll create a 'second' Megose when you release your pollution. But as payment, the pollution lingering in Ince Zangwill will be consumed."
"Leave it to me," the True Creator says, focusing on Lanevus, seeded with His divinity.
"Yes, yes, YES!" Lanevus's face twists as he faces Dunn Smith blocking his path. Dunn's deep gaze locks onto him, attempting to pull him into a dream. Glancing back, Lanevus sees Punishers squeezing into the alley behind.
A mere Sequence 8, he's trapped by two squads. His body warps, divine pollution seeping from his skin, trying to channel the mad True Creator through this frail vessel. With my aid, the True Creator's power flows faster than He could manage alone. The surrounding Beyonder pale, agony contorting their faces as the pollution spreads. Lanevus, equally tormented, grits his teeth, desperate to escape the alley.
"If I can just get out…"
The intensifying ravings in his ears drown his consciousness. A black light rises from the ground, casting a dark cross into the sky.
Simultaneously, Tingen's Storm Cathedral dispatches a messenger to the nearest Backlund diocese. "God's Singer" Ace Snake, fueled by fury and a divine oracle from the Lord of Storms, rides wind and lightning toward Tingen. Evernight Bishop Anthony Stevenson rises from the goddess's statue, bows deeply to a woman beside him, and vanishes as if erased.
"Do you want to protect your child?"
Megose jolts awake, drenched in cold sweat. Bewildered, she finds herself in a lavish courtyard, unsure where she is.
"Do you want to protect your child?"
A voice booms in her mind. Clutching her head in pain, she answers, fearful yet defiant. "I… I can! Even alone, I can work, I can raise this child. Even if his father never returns, I'll nurture this sweet child. He's good, he helps me, he sings in my womb…"
"And if Lanevus blasphemed the Lord of Storms?" my voice thunders, challenging her. "He stole what he shouldn't have. He's being hunted, about to be locked in the Storm Cathedral. Can you escape the Punishers? Even if you're innocent, can you shield your unborn blasphemer's child?"
"Your womb will be cut open, you'll be thrown into a water cell, dying miserably. Your family won't know the Storm Church took you—they'll think you perished in an accident. If you have Storm-worshipping relatives, they'll pray to the very executioners who killed you."
Megose pales, trembling lips betraying her terror. She collapses to her knees, whispering, "Save me… save my child…"
"Drink this, and you'll gain the power to protect your child." My voice remains steady as a "Scholar" potion materializes, landing in her shaking hands. "The choice is yours: drink it, gain knowledge to protect you and your child, or hope for the Lord of Storms' mercy, waiting at home for the Punishers to break down your door and kill your child."
"But… my family… if I leave, they'll…" Megose's eyes glaze, reaching helplessly toward the figure emerging before her, like a drowning woman. I laugh, the sound deafening, warping the courtyard chaotically. Megose kneels, holding back tears.
"One promise," I say coldly. "Dedicate your life to me, and I'll create a perfect 'Megose' to suffer in your place."
"Thank you for your mercy…"
Awaking from the dream, Megose wipes her tears, clutching the potion. She drinks it slowly. Celestial ravings flood her mind, driving her to smash her head against the wall. After the pain subsides, she rises, eyes open.
She gently rubs her swollen belly, using her newfound knowledge to disguise herself simply. Guided by the voice in her mind, she heads resolutely to the port. A rigid body materializes in her room, cocoon-like, identical to Megose.
"Such a great mother, selling everything for her child. If you hadn't agreed, I might've hesitated to take your body," I murmur, gripping my coffee cup. I gaze coldly at the half-dark sky, tainted by the True Creator's divinity, and tell my true self, "Refill my cup, thanks."
"…"
"Now," I nod earnestly. "This is called hiding in plain sight—a rare chance. Oh, and tell the True Creator to crank up the power, cover the potion traces."
I pull the Hermit's Extraordinary characteristics from my pocket, mix them with the coffee-turned-potion in my cup, and gulp it down. Benson rubs his tired eyes from reading, noticing the blackened sky clearing. "It's dawn…" he mutters.
"Indeed, dawn," I echo, smiling. A win-win—no, triple-win. The True Creator's descent vessel is preserved, the Lord of Storms is appeased, and I've injected more power into Earth. Only Lanrwus loses, destined for capture by two Sequence 3s. He'll likely be hauled to Backlund, facing endless interrogation.
"But will I let you spill Aurora Order secrets?"
I manipulate my last trace of pollution in Tingen, then peek from my Safirah in the cosmos, calling to the Mother Tree of Desire. "Hey, sister, come see this!" I sling an arm around Her shoulders, dragging Her to the astral barrier. She's reluctant, baffled by my antics, but my dual-pathway, source-matter-fueled strength pulls Her along. I press my true form to the barrier, sharing my vision.
So this is the power of the ever-passive High-Dimensional Overseer? Noted for later, She thinks, seeing two Sequence 3s and a polluted human. Confused, She doesn't grasp my intent—until I kick Her rear, slamming Her against the barrier.
Every god's attention snaps to the Mother Tree, face-planted on the barrier.
"High-Dimensional Overseer, you—"
"Perfect," I snap my fingers. Lanrwus, held by the Sequence 3s, shudders and collapses. I smile. "True Creator, I pissed off the Mother Tree to keep your secrets. Don't I deserve extra thanks?"
You could've handled Lanevus differently, the True Creator grumbles.
Fine, I just wanted to mess with the Mother Tree. I shrug, strolling off with a bewildered Benson.
Anthony Stevenson's face is grim as he whispers to an equally stern Ace Snake. Ace hesitates, then pries open Lanevus's skull. Both saints step back, faces solemn.
Without external injury, Lanrwus's brain is gone.
---
[Current Disclosed Information]
Overlook Pathway:
Sequence 9: Scholar
Full Name: "Stellar Scholar"
Grants knowledge of the cosmos; without Old One protection, drinking this potion causes instant death by pollution.
Greatly enhances learning ability, memory capacity, and spiritual intuition, qualifying the user to learn ritual magic.
Due to the influence of the pathway's god, "High-Dimensional Overseer," random knowledge is imparted, its content determined by the pathway's peak.
Those who drink the potion subtly become arrogant, irreverent scholars—a side effect. Failing to respect knowledge or treat others humbly during acting risks being consumed by the potion.
(End of Chapter)