Eli Walker had originally assumed he would need cunning and precision to outwit and slay a demigod-level sea monster. Yet Arrodes, ever helpful, never gave him the chance.
The sentient Sealed Artifact had already taken care of it.
A mirror with autonomous thought—such a thing was terrifying in its own right.
Even more so, it came with no negative side effects.
"There's still a big gap between me and a living Angel,"
"But I can help you in far more ways than an ordinary Angel—no, much, much more."
Arrodes's voice rang proudly in Eli's heart. The mirror possessed high-tier powers from the Spectator Pathway, capable of direct telepathic communion.
"Truly amazing," Eli murmured, tapping the surface of the mirror lightly. His praise was sincere.
In a world where death was the norm, having such an artifact on his side felt like a divine blessing.
"Have you found the Beyonder characteristics or potion materials for the Marauder and Swindler Pathways?"
He asked, his heart accelerating. The demigod characteristic in his hand was subtly warping his thoughts.
"I collected them on my way over. You may entrust the demigod characteristic to me for now. I'll keep its influence sealed."
The mirror rippled gently. Two glimmering Beyonder characteristics rose from within. Eli raised an eyebrow. "You really are a treasure trove."
He dropped the demigod characteristic into Arrodes without hesitation. The mirror absorbed it, nullifying its maddening aura.
"Glad I can help."
Arrodes's voice was brimming with delight.
"Then, I'll begin."
Eli released Arrodes. The mirror floated beside him obediently, glinting with anticipation.
He consumed the Marauder characteristic first. His body convulsed as spiritual resistance surged; veins bulged, and sparks ran wild across his limbs.
Then came the Swindler's.
A splitting headache nearly made him collapse. His fingers trembled uncontrollably, arcs of lightning licking at his knuckles, while his pupils darkened with chaotic energy.
He was walking the path of ancient Beyonders. Fortunately, the Elven body was tenacious by nature, and the pale-gray mist surrounding him stirred—almost in sympathy.
That was the Sefirah Castle. That was fate.
"Hoo~ This sensation… not bad at all."
A wild grin tugged at his lips. Around him, the gray mist shimmered.
Eli closed his eyes, chanting softly:
"The Fool that does not belong to this era..."
"The mysterious ruler above the gray fog..."
"The King of Yellow and Black who controls good luck..."
"I seek concealment. I ask for deception. Let me veil my presence when I step into godhood."
As he prayed, a rune began to form in his mind—a luck-transferring glyph. He'd read about it once during his mortal days, in a dusty tome forgotten beside a fishing shack.
The Fool's title? Just a placeholder.
Back then, Klein Moretti hadn't ascended. The spiritual remnants of the Celestial Worthy still held sway in this age. Eli sought not to summon them, only to borrow what lingered.
Suddenly, the gray mist surged—no longer calm.
A translucent veil wrapped around him, hiding him from the eyes of higher beings. He flinched and abandoned the thought of invoking the Celestial Worthy's name. It wasn't needed.
The mist... was protecting him.
The Marauder and Swindler characteristics within him began to digest on their own. They stopped resisting. They obeyed.
Eli placed a hand on his chest.
"Love you, Celestial Worthy," he muttered with heartfelt thanks, eyes glowing with reverence. He reached toward Arrodes. "Return the demigod characteristic."
"This is... truly too shocking."
The mirror's voice stuttered. It could not communicate directly in the gray mist's presence, so simple Elvish script appeared on its surface.
"Already... you surpass what I believed possible in this age."
Eli smiled.
"Arrodes, be careful yourself."
Then, he consumed the Cataclysmic Interrer characteristic.
The sea trembled.
The ocean floor cracked open with an earthquake, a tsunami rose from the abyss. Fish scattered, monsters fled. Above, lightning cracked the skies.
The sea was Eli's domain now.
From within the swirling waters, his spirit stretched outward, illuminating the vast map of the deep sea—every wave, every current became his eyes.
The Gray Mist had played a role here. He knew it.
Even as he advanced, there came no divine rebuke from Leodero, the new Lord of Storms.
When all calmed, Eli found Arrodes again—drifting quietly in the aftershock of his ritual.
"The gray mist on you is gone," Arrodes noted telepathically.
And this time, Eli could choose to silence the voice in his head. He had crossed a threshold.
He was no longer just an elf. He had tasted divinity.
Upon the sea's surface, Eli summoned a mirror of water. It showed a striking elf with long black hair, dark green eyes, and a divine calm.
The mist had vanished from view, but he knew it lingered—subtle, hidden, watching.
"The rune remains," he whispered.
Arrodes tilted gently in the air.
"It hasn't disappeared," Eli confirmed. "It's simply part of me now."
He smiled, steady and serene.
He was a demigod. And the pressure from the lower Sequence characteristics was now insignificant.
A storm had come and gone.
But a greater one was brewing—and Eli Walker was ready.