If Lord of Chaos really could step in and save his life when it counted, what did it matter even if he wanted Beyond the Grey Fog in exchange?
The best things in the world only mattered if you were alive to enjoy them. Dead, and none of it meant anything at all.
The only real question now was how to actually approach Lord of Chaos with the truth.
Just come out and say it directly?
Wouldn't that make his intentions a little too obvious?
Didn't matter!
Thinking something through a thousand, ten thousand times could never beat just actually doing it once. Pray to Lord of Chaos first — figure out the rest as it came.
At the thought, Klein sat up straight, composed himself, and, with a serious expression, began reciting the three-part honorific in Ancient Hermetic: "Sovereign of the Realm of Chaos, Restorer of the Unbalanced Scale to Order, Shadow of Order and Rules."
He held his breath, watching his surroundings carefully.
Thirty seconds.
One minute.
Five minutes.
Half an hour.
Klein's prayer vanished without a trace, like a stone dropped into the sea, no response at all, and his unease grew by the minute.
I can picture it now — this must be exactly how the Tarot Club members feel, whenever they pray to me and get no response.
Talk about karma.
None of my Tarot Club members would ever believe it — that "Mr. Fool," so lofty and unknowable in their eyes, turns into a nervous wreck himself when facing an actual god.
Klein sighed, muttering, "Maybe Lord of Chaos just isn't as free as I usually am, and that's why he hasn't responded yet."
After waiting patiently a bit longer, a faint, muffled commotion suddenly reached his ears — a prayer, from a Tarot Club member?
A man's voice?
Was it the "Hanged Man," or Little "Sun"? Klein glanced at the overcast sky outside the window, got up, stepped into the adjoining washroom, locked the door, built up his wall of spirituality, took four steps backward, and entered Beyond the Grey Fog, arriving within that towering, palace-like hall fit for giants.
Sure enough, within this mysterious space, a man's illusory voice echoed, layered, resonating endlessly. Deep within the gray fog, the crimson star representing Mr. Sun pulsed, expanding and contracting, radiating waves of illusory light.
Klein raised a hand, letting spirituality spread out, touching the crimson star.
Instantly, the prayer sharpened into clarity, distinct and layered. A moment later, countless points of light within the star coalesced into a hazy silhouette of "Sun," posed in prayer, eyes closed, head bowed, carefully recounting something.
Klein quickly grasped what "Sun" was describing — he wanted to return the cross bracelet, along with the historical text detailing information on the Angel of Time, to Mr. Lovers.
Along the way, he also described everything that had happened to him after the last Tarot Club gathering ended.
Sure enough, just as Mr. Lovers had said — the man locked in the next cell over was extremely dangerous. If not for Silver City's Chief stepping in, Little Sun might already have met a grim fate.
Still — why had that man, locked up at the bottom of the Round Tower for all these years without incident, suddenly revealed his "true face" after just a few exchanges with Little Sun?
Thinking back to how this had happened right after Little Sun's last Tarot Club gathering... could it be connected to Beyond the Grey Fog somehow?
While his thoughts churned, Klein's gaze, fixed on the prayer's projection, suddenly froze — he'd just spotted a translucent, illusory silhouette clinging to Little Sun's own body!
It had hands, feet, yet coiled around "Sun" like a python, twisted and unnatural, its head propped up right behind "Sun's" own!
Through the hazy image, Klein could just make out that it wore a black classical robe, a matching pointed soft cap, a crystalline monocle glinting over one eye.
"Sun" showed no awareness of it at all!
A monocle?
Was this person the Angel of Time?
Klein sucked in a sharp breath, genuinely rattled by the sheer audacity of the method — and immediately understood exactly what this entity was after: it really had come for Beyond the Grey Fog!
This was insane. Mr. Lovers had spent all this time searching for information on the "Angel of Time," and here it was, showing up right on cue — and coming straight for him, no less?
Klein instantly recalled how Mr. Lovers had first described the Angel of Time to him: a being utterly without humanity, cold, cruel, and deeply dangerous.
Its name was Amon. It also went by the epithet "Blasphemer."
So it had "taken up residence" within Little Sun's own spirit, waiting for the next Tarot Club gathering, planning to slip into Beyond the Grey Fog undetected, and then... seize Beyond the Grey Fog right out of his hands?
Klein took a breath, forcing himself to stay calm.
Right now, he needed to respond — either find some way to quickly purge Amon from within Little Sun, or, at the very least, temporarily exclude "Sun" from the Tarot Club gathering.
He quickly ran through everything he currently had at his disposal, and found, to his dismay, nothing capable of handling this situation. Compared to the original story, Klein didn't just lack the Black Emperor card — he hadn't even gotten his hands on that book of occult knowledge and rituals, The Book of Secrets, either.
The only option Klein could think of was to sever his connection with Little Sun immediately, and avoid establishing contact with him again until he'd found a real solution.
Which was, essentially, abandoning "Sun" entirely.
By the time he found an actual way to handle this, Little Sun might well already be dead.
But if he didn't abandon him now, "the Fool" himself would be in serious trouble!
Right at that moment, something at the edge of Klein's vision made his blood run cold:
Within the illusory light forming "Sun's" silhouette against the crimson star, a hand — withered down to nothing but skin and bone — suddenly thrust forward, slow but unwavering, reaching toward the very boundary of the crimson star itself, as if pushing straight through reality into the realm of spirit.
That Amon had apparently changed his mind — planning to use the existing connection directly, forcing the boundary open, reaching his hand straight into Beyond the Grey Fog!
Whoosh!
For the first time, the boundless gray-white fog fell into disarray. The surrounding mist churned violently, gathering into waves, into a great gale.
The entire hall began shaking, teetering, as if it might collapse at any moment.
Klein's pupils contracted. Without hesitation, he moved at once to sever the connection with Sun.
But he failed.
Beyond the Grey Fog's connection to Little Sun remained intact, and the "channel" that connection had built remained open too.
Klein watched, helpless, as that withered, skin-and-bone silhouette crawled, bit by bit, into Beyond the Grey Fog — its skin, its flesh, rapidly filling out as it went, until it had become a man with a broad forehead, a monocle over one eye.
Since he couldn't sever the connection, he'd have to escape Beyond the Grey Fog himself instead.
Klein switched tactics immediately, wrapping himself in spirituality, trying to return to reality.
He failed again.
BOOM!
The hall shook even more violently, cracks spreading across the walls, chunks of stone collapsing, the floor itself splitting apart, buckling, opening into a gaping void.
And it was right then that the figure took its final step into Beyond the Grey Fog, materializing directly in front of Klein, out of thin air.
Amon's mouth curled upward, a teasing smile crossing his face as he adjusted the monocle over his right eye. "Well. Finally meeting you in person, Mr. Fool."
To be continued…
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