At the extreme edge of the cosmos, separate from the ordered verse, lies a multiverse of possibilities.
These are not illusions, nor are they stable realities. They are branches. Outcomes. Moments that diverged and continued on, despite not being the true course of history.
They exist in tandem with the normal verse, sharing its laws, its rhythms, its gods and mysteries… and yet, they are not the same.
A single step in another direction. A decision reversed. A death delayed. That is enough to give birth to another universe.
Collectively, they are called the Likely Outcomes.
Yet this reality is unstable. It exceeds the logic of canon events. At every breath, one universe bleeds into another. Laws collapse. Borders dissolve. Entire worlds merge, only to break apart again.
It is chaos. And it is eternal.
Over this endless multiverse, something watches the ever infinite worlds that hanged on the threat of collapse and convergence.
The Embodiment of the Void.
Darkness without form. Existence without name.
It bore no face only an indescribable void that couldn't be understood by mortals. detached from everything else as it quietly observed this realm.
It does not interfere with any events, they're are not cannon in any way.
Therefore of no consequence.
It only watches and gains clarity of the true reality that such world are derived.
It watches the way protagonists from distant stories might collide. How universes could fuse, how threads could tangle.
Will a new legend be born? Or will everything dissolve into silence?
The Embodiment does not answer.
It only gazes viciously at the unknown and the impossible.
…
In the universe of Lord of the Mysteries, the grey fog was silent.
Klein Moretti The Fool sat within the Sefirah Castle, sunk into a state of cogitation.
He has already separated worms of spirits to answer prayers to his believers and blessed.
With the aftermath of the apocalypse, there was no more any lingering threat from the outer dieties. Klien silently watched the tarot club members go about their daily lives without the threat of the unknown.
It gets a little tiring doesn't it . Klien muttered inwardly as he looked at the majestic palace .
He had saved the world there was no longer any lingering threat to keep him weary. As Lord of the mysteries he could protect the world from the veiled realm of Sephira Castle.
He slowly walked around the grey fog his slippery and sinister tentacles that had indescribable patterns phasing in and out of existence.
Thoughts wandered across the domains he governed, the secrets buried within the river of history, the countless layers of the real and unreal.
As klien relinquished his thoughts over such simple matters he sighed inwardly .
He has to go to eternal slumber to fully eradicate the residual will of The celestial Worthy.
Then—
He felt it.
A power gnawed at his very being. It did not strike at his body. It did not strike at his soul. It struck at his presence itself.
A summoning?
Klein's gaze sharpened. Countless thoughts spun in his mind.
What is going on ? Who is able to infiltrate Sephira Castle so seamlessly that I didn't notice.
How is this possible without my knowing?
Klien's body kept turning corporal and incorporeal as though his very presence was grasped by something
He rose. The fog stirred. His first instinct was to retreat, to slip into the Historical Void where even gods could not easily pursue him.
The Sefirah Castle responded. Layers of greyish-white fog rolled forth, condensing into a door that would open to the real world.
But when Klein stepped forward, he froze.
The path was sealed.
An invisible barrier pressed against him. Silent. Absolute.
Even as the Lord of Mysteries, he could not pass.
Klein's eyes narrowed. He called upon Fooling. He called upon Error. His will twisted, seeking loopholes. His authority probed the edges of the barrier, testing for weaknesses.
Every attempt collapsed.
Every trick failed.
It was as if each thought of his was already anticipated, each loophole already closed.
At that moment, Klein felt it.
A gaze.
From beyond the cosmos he knew, beyond all the spirals of time and the boundaries of space.
Green light flickered. A pair of eyes emerged in the void. Their glow was cold, their darkness suffocating.
The fog trembled.
Klein's breath caught.
He was the Fool. He was the Lord of Mysteries. He was the one who peered upon others, not the one to be peered upon.
Who could shackle him?
The gaze did not answer. It only watched.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, the barrier fell away.
The fog parted, yielding a door.
Klein did not hesitate. He grafted his existence into the mortal realm, choosing a safe coordinate.
In the blink of an eye, he stood before the First Church of the Fool.
His form shifted. His features hardened. What emerged was not a god, but a man.
Gehrman Sparrow, the adventurer. The angel of the Fool.
That was safer. That was natural. The world already knew him as such. A god descending would stir unnecessary terror.
The cathedral doors loomed before him, silent and vast. Klein's steps echoed as he walked forward. The scent of candle wax and ancient stone lingered in the air.
But his mind was elsewhere.
The barrier. The eyes. The gaze that had reached into Sefirah Castle itself.
What kind of existence could it be?
…
A voice called out.
"Gehrman Sparrow."
The name drifted across the cathedral hall, neither loud nor soft, yet clear enough to halt his steps.
Klein turned his head.
There, in the shadows near the door, stood a figure. A boy.
Dark skin. Deep brown eyes. Youthful features, yet with a calmness that seemed out of place.
Klein narrowed his gaze.
He did not know this boy.
At least, not yet.
The boy's eyes met his.
There was no fear in them.
Only recognition.
The silence deepened.
Klein's thoughts churned.
Who is he?
How does he know this name?
And why does he appear here, at this moment, after the gaze beyond the cosmos?
The fog within Klein's mind stirred faintly.
He realized—this was only the beginning.