Ademisaul's consciousness, a fractured mirror reflecting a life that was no longer his own, drifted in a sea of boundless, chaotic darkness. Memories, sharp and poignant, of a world filled with towering skyscrapers, the incessant hum of technology, and the comforting glow of a screen displaying the intricate world of Lord of Mysteries, flashed before his "eyes." He had been an avid fan, a connoisseur of the lore, a silent observer of Klein Moretti's tumultuous journey. Now, he was… something else.
He was Ademisaul, a name that felt both foreign and intimately familiar. A boy, he surmised, from the fragmented sensations that were beginning to coalesce into a semblance of a body. But this was no ordinary boy. A chilling realization, sharp as a shard of ice, pierced through the fog of his disorientation. He was a Half-Sequence 9: Monster of the Wheel of Fortune Pathway. The knowledge, unbidden and absolute, settled into the core of his being with the weight of a death sentence.
A monster. Not in the metaphorical sense, but in the literal, terrifying reality of the Beyonder world. A being destined to bring misfortune to all those around him, a harbinger of doom, a walking, breathing curse. The very air around him seemed to warp, twisting into grotesque shapes, mirroring the chaotic energies that pulsed within his half-formed spirit.
The darkness pressed in on him, a suffocating blanket woven from the threads of despair and misfortune. It was the physical manifestation of his curse, a malevolent force that sought to consume him, to drag him down into the abyss of eternal bad luck. He felt his nascent consciousness begin to fray, the edges of his being dissolving into the encroaching shadows. Is this it? he thought, a wave of resignation washing over him. To die again, so soon after being given a second chance?
Suddenly, a golden light, warm and serene, bloomed in the heart of the oppressive darkness. It was a light that spoke of tranquility, of wisdom, of a power that could hold back the tide of misfortune. The shadows recoiled, hissing and writhing, as the golden radiance expanded, creating a sanctuary of peace in the midst of chaos.
At the center of the light, a figure began to take shape. It was a man, or rather, the image of a man, seated in the lotus position. He was clad in simple, flowing robes of the same golden hue as the light that emanated from him. His features were indistinct, shrouded in a gentle, benevolent glow, but Ademisaul could feel a sense of profound peace and ancient wisdom emanating from him. This was a being of immense power, a being who existed on a plane far beyond the comprehension of a mere Half-Sequence 9.
"Fear not, little one," a voice, calm and melodious, resonated within Ademisaul's consciousness. It was a voice that seemed to soothe the jagged edges of his fractured spirit, to mend the tears in his being. "You are safe, for now."
Ademisaul, still struggling to grasp the enormity of his situation, could only stare at the golden figure. "Who… who are you?" he managed to project, his thoughts a jumble of awe and trepidation.
The figure chuckled, a sound like the gentle chiming of bells. "I am the guardian of this place, the consciousness that resides within the Key of Light. You may call me the Golden Buddha."
The Key of Light? A Sefirot? The name sent a jolt of recognition through Ademisaul. He remembered the lore, the ancient tales of the Sefirot, the divine artifacts that held the power of the Great Old Ones. The Key of Light, one of the nine Sefirot, was said to be sealed away in the Western Continent, a land shrouded in mystery and danger. His transmigration, it seemed, had triggered its unsealing.
"You seem to possess knowledge that you should not," the Golden Buddha observed, his voice tinged with a subtle, probing curiosity. "You speak of Sefirot, of pathways, of sequences. These are not things a boy from a remote village should know."
Ademisaul's heart, or what passed for it in his current state, skipped a beat. He had to be careful. To reveal his true origins, his knowledge of the world of Lord of Mysteries, would be to invite disaster. He was a transmigrator, an anomaly, and in a world teeming with powerful, ancient beings, anomalies were often viewed with suspicion, if not outright hostility.
"I… I don't know what you mean," he stammered, trying to feign ignorance. "I've just… heard stories, whispers in the wind."
The Golden Buddha remained silent for a moment, the golden light around him pulsing gently. Ademisaul felt as if he were being scrutinized, his very soul laid bare before the ancient being's gaze. He could feel the subtle prodding, the gentle, almost imperceptible pressure on his consciousness, as the Golden Buddha sought to unravel the truth of his words.
"Intriguing," the Golden Buddha finally said, a note of amusement in his voice. "A boy who hears whispers of the Sefirot on the wind. You are a curious one, Ademisaul."
He paused, and the golden light around him seemed to intensify, bathing Ademisaul in its warm, healing radiance. "You are a monster, a being of misfortune. That is your curse. But every curse can be a blessing in disguise. It all depends on the path you choose to walk."
A small, ethereal table materialized before Ademisaul. On it, a collection of strange and wondrous items appeared: the iridescent tail of a carp, a silver four-leaf clover that shimmered with an otherworldly light, a vial of murky river water, three ordinary four-leaf clovers, a dropper filled with a clear liquid labeled "monkeyflower pure," and a small, intricately carved lucky charm.
"This is the formula for the Sequence 9 of the Wheel of Fortune Pathway: Monster," the Golden Buddha explained, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Drink it, and you will become a true Beyonder. Your curse will not be lifted, but it will be… transformed. You will gain a measure of control over the misfortune that surrounds you, the ability to bend it to your will. It is a dangerous path, one fraught with peril, but it is the only path that offers you a chance at survival."
Ademisaul stared at the ingredients, his mind racing. He knew the risks. To become a Beyonder was to step into a world of madness and danger, to risk losing his sanity, his very humanity. But what other choice did he have? To remain a Half-Sequence 9 was to be a beacon of misfortune, a danger to himself and to everyone around him. He would be hunted, ostracized, a pariah in a world that already teetered on the brink of chaos.
"The choice is yours, Ademisaul," the Golden Buddha said, his voice gentle but firm. "But do not take too long to decide. The Key of Light cannot shield you from your curse forever."
As if to emphasize his point, the golden light around them began to flicker, the shadows at the edge of the sanctuary pressing in once more, their malevolent whispers growing louder.
Ademisaul took a deep, shuddering breath. There was no choice, not really. He had to take the risk. He had to become a Beyonder.
"I'll do it," he said, his voice filled with a newfound resolve.
The Golden Buddha nodded, a faint smile gracing his indistinct features. "Very well. But remember, the final ingredient, the most crucial one, is nine drops of your own blood. That is a price you must pay yourself."
With a final, benevolent pulse of golden light, the figure of the Golden Buddha, the ethereal table, and the sanctuary of peace dissolved, plunging Ademisaul back into the chaotic darkness. But this time, it was different. He was no longer a helpless drifter in a sea of despair. He was on a mission, a desperate, dangerous mission to save himself.
He found himself back in the "real world," in a small, dilapidated room that smelled of dust and decay. The ingredients from the formula were laid out on a rough-hewn wooden table before him, a tangible link to the mystical encounter he had just experienced. He wasted no time. With a sense of urgency that bordered on panic, he began the process of concocting the potion.
He moved with a strange, instinctual grace, his hands, small and slender, working with a precision that belied his age. It was as if the knowledge of the potion-making process had been etched into his very soul, a gift from the enigmatic Golden Buddha. He crushed the silver four-leaf clover into a fine, shimmering powder, its magical energies swirling around his fingers. He carefully measured out the murky river water, its cloudy depths seeming to hold ancient secrets. He added the ordinary four-leaf clovers, the monkeyflower pure, the lucky charm, each ingredient a piece of a puzzle that would determine his fate.
As he worked, the air in the room grew heavy, the shadows in the corners seeming to deepen, to watch him with unseen eyes. He could feel the pull of his curse, the ever-present threat of misfortune, but he pushed it aside, focusing all of his concentration on the task at hand.
Finally, all of the ingredients, save for his own blood, were combined in a small, ceramic bowl. The liquid within shimmered with an otherworldly light, a transparent concoction that seemed to hold a swirling, iridescent aurora within its depths. It was a thing of beauty, a testament to the strange and wondrous magic of the Beyonder world.
Ademisaul picked up a small, sharp knife, its blade glinting in the dim light. He hesitated for a moment, his hand trembling slightly. This was the final step, the point of no return. With a grimace, he pricked the tip of his finger, watching as nine drops of his own blood, dark and precious, fell into the shimmering liquid.
The potion pulsed, the aurora within it swirling with a newfound intensity. A faint, ethereal mist rose from the bowl, carrying with it the scent of rain-soaked earth and blooming flowers. It was ready.
Ademisaul picked up the bowl, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the power within the potion, the chaotic, unpredictable energy of the Wheel of Fortune Pathway. It was a power that could save him, or it could destroy him, drive him to madness, turn him into a true monster.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and brought the bowl to his lips. The cool, smooth liquid touched his tongue, a strange, tingling sensation spreading through his mouth. He began to gulp it down, the world around him fading into a blur of light and shadow, his fate hanging in the balance, a coin tossed into the air, spinning, spinning, spinning…