Klein fought hard to keep his emotions in check, striving to maintain an air of calm, composed poise as he met the other's gaze evenly. "The Blasphemer. Amon?"
"Heh."
Amon gave a light laugh, settling into the bronze chair across from Klein. "Still keeping up the act, are we? This little game of playing at being an adult — it's about time it came to an end."
"..."
Klein said nothing.
"Though, I suppose I could consider taking over for you — keep this whole game running for you, no one would ever notice the difference. If anything, compared to the previous, fraudulent 'Fool,' the new 'Mr. Fool' would actually possess real, substantial power — able to offer genuine help to the gathering's members."
"No one will remember you. No one will ever know you existed. They'll simply marvel at how much further 'Mr. Fool's' power has recovered, praise his strength, and offer up their most devoted faith to him."
"As for you — since you did bring me the Source Fortress as a gift, killing you outright would feel a bit too heartless. Why not take on a different identity instead, and stay on as a regular member of the gathering?"
"You could even get a firsthand look at what a real god is actually like."
"How does that sound?"
As Amon laid this out, unhurried, Klein felt his heart sinking further with every word: Amon knows everything about me. He knows the whole truth. He knows absolutely everything.
Which meant no matter how he disguised himself, no matter how calm he pretended to be, it must all look laughably transparent to this being — and all that awaited him now was...
Wait.
If that were true, why would Amon bother wasting all these words on him at all?
Could it be that seizing Beyond the Grey Fog from him wasn't quite as simple as he was making it sound?
The reason Amon hadn't just seized the Source Fortress outright clearly wasn't difficulty — he simply didn't want to shoulder the responsibility that would come with inheriting it directly.
Which meant he wasn't in any hurry to act. He wanted Klein to submit first, then manipulate him, step by step, into advancing further, becoming a Sage, deepening his bond with the Source Fortress along the way.
Then, once that bond had deepened enough, Amon could exploit some loophole to steal the Source Fortress outright — achieving his real goal: "the Fortress belongs to me, and fate belongs to him," inheriting the Source Fortress while shouldering none of the burden that came with it.
Klein kept his gaze steady on Amon. "Then go ahead."
Amon blinked, a faint glimmer flashing across his monocle, and an invisible time-worm slipped quietly into Klein's body.
Klein hadn't meant to cooperate. Amon didn't particularly care either way.
He had all the time in the world, after all. His target had nowhere left to run.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, that time-worm was suddenly crushed to fragments with a sharp crack.
The next instant, deep within the Source Fortress, the flight of light-steps leading toward that pale, misty realm suddenly surged violently — and rather than accelerating the hall's collapse, this surge actually began settling Beyond the Grey Fog back into calm.
The shift immediately drew both Klein's and Amon's attention.
A finger-sized wisp of faint light, its shape indistinct, shot out from the surging white mist, appearing almost instantly right in front of Amon, then rapidly expanding, taking human shape —
a man dressed almost identically to Amon, though his features were entirely different, a monocle worn over his right eye too.
"!!!"
For the first time, a clear reaction crossed Amon's face — shock, surprise, disbelief, even a flicker of genuine confusion.
Crack.
A skull collided sharply with Amon's broad forehead, snapping his head back — only for the same hand to press against the back of his skull, wrenching it forward again.
An ordinary person would've suffered a concussion from that alone.
"Vincent?!"
Only then did Amon manage to get the name out. He tried to retaliate, but found he'd lost control of his own body entirely — Amon, who'd made a lifelong hobby out of parasitizing others, had been parasitized himself.
"My foolish little Oudou. I've been waiting for you here for quite some time."
Amon's expression darkened, fighting desperately against the loss of control, and suddenly lunged, grabbing at the monocle over "Vincent's" right eye. "Give me back my Uniqueness!"
What happened next caught him completely off guard.
Vincent made no move to stop him at all, letting Amon's hand pull the monocle free from his own eye.
The next instant, faint, hairline cracks surfaced across the monocle still resting on Amon's right eye — and the piece clutched in his own hand dissolved into a streak of light, pouring directly into those cracks.
In an instant, every crack sealed shut, reforming into a single, flawless, crystal-clear monocle.
"You... what did you just do?"
Feeling the Uniqueness within him made whole again, Amon could only stare, utterly stunned. "Why?"
Vincent grinned. "Obviously — to mess with you."
"???"
Amon could tell perfectly well whether the half of the Uniqueness he'd just regained was real or fake. And you're calling this "messing with me"?
"You've spent all this time scheming against me, and after I vanished, you went to insane lengths trying to track me down — every plan you cooked up, every ounce of that 'deception' you're so proud of — all of it, just for this half of the Uniqueness?"
"Well, guess what? I handed it to you myself."
"Or rather — I planned to give it to you from the very start. I just wanted you to run yourself ragged first, convinced you were slowly, cleverly gaining the upper hand on your own — only to realize, in the end, that it was all a complete waste of your time."
"You wanted to prove — through your own skill, your own ability — that you deserved this half of the Uniqueness more than I did, that you could take it back from me by your own merit. And in the end? Your skill, your ability — none of it meant anything at all."
"The only reason you have it now is because I chose to hand it to you."
At that, Vincent laughed. "So — was I messing with you, or wasn't I? Would you call this the ultimate deception? And tell me — which one of us is really more deserving of it?"
Fury blazed in Amon's eyes. "You— mother—"
"Ooh, he's mad. He's really mad."
Vincent looked toward the thoroughly baffled Klein and burst out laughing.
"One last lesson from your big brother, before I go."
Vincent grinned. "The best things in the world are always the most expensive."
"Hope you're ready to grow yourself a conscience."
Before Amon could even process what that meant, the hand Vincent had pressed against his skull suddenly shoved hard, pushing him straight out of the Source Fortress — out of reality itself, out of Silver City entirely.
Clap, clap.
Vincent brushed his hands off and turned to face Klein.
This person... is this the "other" Angel of Time?
Klein finally caught up — the identical outfit, the man calling himself Amon's older brother, and, combined with what Little Sun had described at the last Tarot Club gathering, the conclusion wasn't hard to reach: he was... he really was the other Angel of Time.
There really were two Angels of Time, after all.
One was Amon. The other, standing right in front of him now, was... Vincent?
A Chinese name?
Another fellow countryman?
But why had he emerged from the depths of Beyond the Grey Fog itself? Had he been staying there this whole time?
Could he be... the previous "Fool"?!
"Ah, Mr. Fool! Been such an admirer, such an admirer!"
Vincent suddenly trotted forward, pulling out a small notebook and holding it out. "Here, sign this for me!"
To be continued…
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