The safehouse was quiet, save for the rhythmic swish-swish of the Secretive Plotter sharpening his [Black Heavenly Demon Sword] with a whetstone he had seemingly conjured from the void.
Kim Dokja sat on the worn sofa, chewing on a dumpling that the 999th Kkoma had grudgingly prepared. He looked bored, flipping through the pages of a Third Epoch newspaper he couldn't read, relying on the system translation that flickered in his vision.
"We are wasting time," Klein Moretti announced, walking into the living room. He adjusted his monocle, his expression serious. "The advancement ritual requires a stage. And building a stage by hand takes too long."
"A stage?" Dokja swallowed his dumpling. "You mean the town of marionettes? I thought we were going to use the local Sanguine population."
"Too risky," Klein shook his head. "Using existing residents introduces variables. Their fate is tied to the Creator. If I manipulate them too heavily, the Ancient Sun God might notice the dissonance. I need a clean slate. A blank canvas."
"So, what?" The Secretive Plotter didn't look up from his blade. "You intend to build a city brick by brick? We have a month, not a decade."
"No," Klein walked to the full-length mirror in the hallway.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of charcoal. With steady, practiced movements, he began to draw on the glass surface. A pupil-less eye. Contorted lines symbolizing secrecy and change.
"What are you doing?" Dokja asked, leaning over the back of the sofa.
"Summoning a search engine," Klein replied.
He finished the symbol. He took a step back and spoke in ancient Hermes. "Magic Mirror, Magic Mirror, who is the..." He paused. "Wrong incantation. Arrodes..."
The air in the room dropped ten degrees. The reflection in the mirror didn't just darken; it rotted. Silver mercury began to ooze from the glass, bubbling like boiling tar. The charcoal symbol dissolved, sucked into the depths of the mirror.
Words formed on the surface, written in glowing, frantic ancient Jotun script.
"Supreme Master! Exalted Ruler of the Spirit World! Your humble, loyal, and incredibly missed servant has arrived!"
BOOM!
Fireworks—illusory, silent fireworks—exploded on the surface of the glass, filling the reflection with vibrant colors.
Kim Dokja dropped his dumpling. "What the hell is that?"
"This," Klein said, gesturing to the sycophantic mirror, "is the fantasy and mystical version of Google."
"Google?" The Secretive Plotter looked up, his interest piqued. "Does it have a search history?"
"It better not," Klein muttered, stepping closer to the glass.
"Master! Master! You look dashing today! That red armor really brings out the color of your... soul!" Arrodes' text appeared rapidly, scrolling like a live chat stream. "How may this lowly mirror serve you?"
Klein commanded:
"I need information. The exact location of the Magic Wishing Lamp."
The fireworks on the mirror froze instantly. The text vanished. For a moment, the mirror was just a dark, swirling void. Then, a new message appeared, the handwriting shaky and small.
"Master... The Lamp... That is a Sealed Artifact."
"It contains a high-level entity from the Cosmos. The 'Genie'. If we probe too deeply, 'He' might notice the connection. 'He' is terrifying. 'He' hates the...."
"I know," Klein said calmly. "Can you locate it?"
Klein gazed at Secretive Plotter, who still didn't know he was the Fool.
"I... I can try! But it is risky! If the Genie gazes back... Master, if I do this, may I ask for a punishment?"
"Later," Klein waved his hand dismissively. "I don't need you to steal it. I just need to attract it. How do I make the Genie come to me without alerting the Solomon... Family?"
Arrodes processed the request. The mercury swirled.
"You need bait," the mirror concluded. "The entity inside the lamp desires freedom. 'He' hates the seal placed by the Celestial Worthy. If 'He' senses the aura of the Gray Fog... 'He' will try to exploit the connection to escape."
"You need an item contaminated with your supreme aura..."
Klein paused. He touched his head. His silk top hat. He had worn it during every Tarot Club meeting. He had worn it while fighting Amon. It was steeped in the aura of The Fool.
He took it off. "Will this do?"
The mirror vibrated with excitement. "Yes! Yes! Oh, Master! Can I keep it? Please? I will cherish it forever! I will polish it every day!"
"Sure," Klein chuckled, tossing the hat into the blackened glass. "I planned on getting a new one anyway. It clashes with the red armor."
The mirror surface rippled like water. The top hat sank into the reflection and vanished.
Suddenly, the room shook. A golden light, thick and viscous like molten gold, began to bleed through the glass of the mirror. It wasn't the silver light of Arrodes. It was something ancient, foreign, and twisted.
The Secretive Plotter stood up instantly, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. The void around him flared. "That aura..."
Klein felt a vibration deep in his soul. The connection had been established. The Genie had taken the bait.
"It's working," Klein whispered. Then he turned to the others. "I need to poop."(;3)
Kim Dokja stared at him. "What?"
"Stomach ache. Bad dumplings," Klein lied effortlessly, clutching his stomach. "Don't disturb me."
"My dumplings are perfect!" the 999th Kkoma yelled from the kitchen.
Klein ignored them and rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. He locked it. He turned on the tap to create white noise. Then, he stood before the mirror above the sink. His expression turned cold. The playfulness vanished.
He took four steps counter-clockwise.
Klein materialized in his high-back chair at the head of the bronze table. He didn't wait. He didn't check the crimson stars. He waved his hand. The gray fog that usually obscured the palace surged, suppressing the space around the star representing Kim Dokja.
Arrodes was near Dokja, so the connection had piggybacked on his star.
FWOOSH.
A pillar of distorted golden light erupted from the star. It twisted, expanding rapidly, forming the shape of a giant, golden kettle—no, a classic oil lamp. The surface was covered in mysterious, complicated symbols that seemed to crawl like worms.
From the spout of the lamp, a wick extended. It ignited. A pale, sticky light spurted upwards, expanding into a colossal, blurred figure that towered over the divine palace.
The Genie.
The entity looked down at Klein. "His" gaze was heavy, filled with a mockery and arrogance that spanned epochs. It felt like the entire Cosmos was staring at him.
"You are not Him," the Genie spoke. The voice sounded like shifting sands, grinding against the pillars of the castle. "The Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth... Who are you?"
"Correct," Klein said, leaning back in The Fool's chair, tapping his finger on the armrest. He didn't flinch under the gaze of a Great Old One. "I am The Fool."
The Genie laughed. The sound shook the fog. "To summon me is to invite disaster. The seal on this lamp... it was made by the previous owner. You cannot break it. You are too weak."
"He" leaned forward, the golden flame flickering. "But... you have the scent. You have the authority. You can loosen it."
"Release me," the Genie commanded, "His" voice turning seductive. "Release me, and I will grant you wishes. Real wishes. Not the twisted distortions I feed to mortals. I can give you the power of a True God. I can destroy your enemies. I can rewrite the laws of this era."
"I cannot release you yet," Klein said calmly. "I am merely a Sequence 2. I do not have the strength."
The golden light flared with anger.
"But, I want to make a deal," Klein said. "I will release you... eventually. I will send you back to the Cosmos."
The Genie paused.
"I keep my transaction principles," Klein stated. "But first, I need a down payment. I need your help."
The Genie remained silent. "He" seemed to be weighing the probability. "You need power," the Genie deduced. "You are preparing a ritual."
"Correct," Klein said. "I need a stage."
"Speak your wish," the Genie rumbled.
Klein stood up. He looked the Genie in the eye. "I wish," he announced, his voice echoing in the palace, "For a city."
"A city?"
"A Utopia," Klein clarified. "I wish for a city suitable for ten thousand people to appear near Moon City. A city of miracles. A city that exists in reality but is anchored in the Spirit World. A city where the impossible is common."
He needed a stage for his advancement ritual.
Building it by hand would take years. Manipulating the Sanguines was too risky. But a wish... a wish could rewrite reality in an instant.
The Genie's flame flickered. "A city..." "He" extended a hand made of golden light. "But creating something from nothing... inserting a new variable into history... it will cause a massive disturbance. The Ancient Sun God will sense it. The Kings of Angels will see it. That's why I've been hiding for so long."
"I will handle the concealment," Klein said. "Just build it. Make it real. Make it... miraculous."
Genie stopped for a second.
"Very well." The Genie's form began to contract, retreating back into the lamp. "But remember your promise, Fool. If you fail to release me..."
"Don't worry," Klein smiled, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I always pay my debts."
Klein returned to his body. He splashed cold water on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror. The reflection of Arrodes was gone, replaced by his own pale, determined face.
He flushed the toilet for effect and walked out.
The Secretive Plotter was standing right outside the door, his arms crossed. "You didn't poop," the Plotter stated.
"I have a shy bladder," Klein lied smoothly.
"I felt it," the Plotter ignored the lie. His eyes narrowed. "A corrupted aura. Similar to the Indescribable Mist. Similar to the Outer Deities of the Corruption Alliance that invaded the Demon Realm."
Klein paused. The Indescribable Mist... The Plotter had fought them. He knew the scent.
"They are related," Klein admitted, his voice low. "Looks like, the entity in the lamp... is the other half of 'Him'. It was... a necessary transaction. To prepare for my advancement."
The Plotter stared at him. "You are making deals with Outer Deities now?"[1]
"I make deals with anyone who can help us survive," Klein said firmly. "We need a city. And I just bought one. It's just the recorded past, don't worry."
He walked past the Plotter to the window. Outside, the landscape was barren rock and dusty plains. The Sanguine town was in the distance, but the area around the safehouse was empty.
"But before the city appears... we need a cover," Klein muttered.
He clasped his hands together. He didn't pray to The Fool. He needed an authority over Concealment that rivaled the Creator. He needed the Goddess.
He spoke the old honorifics.
"The Evernight Goddess stands higher than the cosmos and more eternal than eternity.The Lady of Crimson,The Mother of Concealment,The Empress of Misfortune and Horror,Mistress of Repose and Silence."
The air in the room grew heavy. The light from the window didn't fade; it was eaten. Shadows stretched from the corners, swallowing the furniture, the floor, and the walls. The sun outside seemed to dim, blocked by an invisible moon.
A figure stepped out of the shadows. She wore a simple black dress, her veil lifted to reveal a curious expression. She held a glass of red wine in one hand and a fork in the other.
"Long time no see, Junior," Amanises grinned. "I was just finishing a meeting with Leodero. He screams so much. My ears are ringing."
Kim Dokja choked on his dumpling again.
"Amanises," Klein bowed slightly. "I need a favor."
"You always do," she sighed, sipping her wine. "What is it this time? Another wolf? Or did you accidentally summon Amon?"
"I'm building a city," Klein said, pointing out the window. "Right here. I need you to Conceal it. Completely. From the Sun God. From Amon. From history itself."
Amanises raised an eyebrow. "A city? For your ritual?" She looked at the empty wasteland outside. "You want to build a city in the backyard of the Creator? Under the nose of the Kings of Angels?"
She finished her wine in one gulp. "That's bold. I like it. It's very... Main Character of you."
She walked to the window. She raised her hand. The Uniqueness of the Darkness Pathway flared—a scythe of pure void. But she didn't cut. She draped.
She draped the concept of "Night" over the valley. The stars in the sky vanished. The concept of "Location" was erased from the area surrounding the safehouse. To the outside world, this place was now a blank spot on the map. A blind spot in fate. A dreamless sleep.
"Done," she said, dusting off her hands. "I've wrapped it in a layer of 'Secret'. Even Ouroboros won't look here."
Klein nodded. "Now."
He snapped his fingers. Fulfill the Wish.
RUMBLE.
The ground shook. But it wasn't an earthquake of destruction. It was an earthquake of creation.
Golden light erupted from the earth, piercing the darkness of the Goddess's concealment. It wasn't messy. It was precise. Stone bricks laid themselves, flying from the earth like reverse gravity. Walls rose from the dust, knitting together instantly. Towers spiraled into the sky, intricate and beautiful, architectural marvels that defied gravity—spires of gold and white, bridges of crystal.
Parks bloomed with flowers from the Spirit World—moonflowers, sun-lilies, star-orchids. Fountains gushed with clear, sparkling water that smelled of spirituality. Streetlamps ignited with flameless fire.
In seconds, a metropolis appeared. It was a city of dreams. A city of miracles. Utopia.
It stood silent and empty, waiting for its citizens.
"Show off," Kim Dokja whistled, looking out the window with wide eyes. "That's... quite the SimCity build."
"It is... acceptable," the Secretive Plotter muttered, though his eyes betrayed his surprise. "Better than the ruin I expected."
Amanises laughed. "Didn't expect you to use 'It'"
Klein looked at his new stage.
"Now," Klein whispered, adjusting his top hat. "We just need the actors."
[1] (Just to remind you this is the person who collaborated with Djinns, that's how embarrasing this Sunfish bastard is)