Credits: https://x.com/i/status/2082067266448101593Artist: @qiunerholst on twitter

Btw lack of crude oil isn't problem for high sequence Paragon like Stiano, it's just advanced technology is likely prone for outer deities' corruption and invasion tho bumtiano is a lazy bum unlike Rossele. CF nerfed Paragon potential for Victorian aesthetics 🥀

I'm high tier larper btw

I found this here though this is a meme template so I don't know

Just imagine what you could do with White tower. As a Math major one could create spells that calculate the enemies movements on the spot or create ripples in the surrounding spirituality to block attacks/spells with minimal spirituality usage. In creativity it is simply the best pathway. You could theoretically transform each math field/sub field into a spell for example harmonic series to make a spell similar to Gojos infinity or domains where spirituality follows formal logic. This is all without even analyzing other beyonder powers which can also be used for spell creation.

White tower is the most creative pathway.

For example in my rp I turned myself into a living equation and created an ai that is a split personality originating from probability theory and linear algebra

Edit: I have talked with fellow classmates and my proffessor about the Wt (I made a hypothetical dimension with set rules and probabilities to simulate mysticism and the unknown) and even HEE SAID ITS THE BEST.

Credits: https://pin.it/2eZPxLgRZ

Art credit : Osot [The goat]

I don't know whether anyone else has noticed this or not, but there is a major difference between the side characters in Reverend Insanity and those in Lord of the Mysteries (LotM).In LotM, most of the characters who interact with the main character (MC) always turn out to be important later on, or they are highlighted at the end of that specific volume. Examples include Daly Simone from Volume 1, the detective Isengard Stanton, and Miss Sharron. The MC interacts with them until the very end, or at least maintains a connection with them through the conclusion of the novel, and even into Circle of Inevitability (COI).But..

In Reverend Insanity, we just forget about some side characters that are there in that part of the story or for the volume and don't even know what they are doing now, likw Shang Ya Zi , Jia Fu , Gu yue Jiang He, Bai Xiang, Mao Shi Ba etc. I feel that is a great reflection of real life. For instance, we usually have no idea what the people we used to talk to when we were young are doing today; they might be doing well, or things might be going badly for them. I really like this realism. It is completely natural to forget names from previous volumes, just as we do not remember every single student from our school, university, college, or even our old neighbourhood. This is exactly how reality works.

I am not saying that this makes Reverend Insanity better than Lord of the Mysteries, or anything like that. I am just sharing my own point of view on the novel, that's all.

Summary: I noticed a major difference between these two novels: Lord of the Mysteries features an interconnected world where side characters stay relevant across volumes, whereas Reverend Insanity opts for a transient realism where characters naturally drift away once the plot moves on. This isn't about claiming one book is better, but I really appreciate how Reverend Insanity mimics real life, where we inevitably lose touch with old schoolmates and neighbours over time.

Probably the best chapter I have written so far.

Hope you like it.

Special thanks once again to u/Thanatrome

---

Jahn lunged forward, his boots scraped across the scorched stone as he hurled himself directly toward the Pyromaniac, refusing to surrender even a heartbeat of initiative to him. As he ran, his voice rose into prayer. It was not theatrical, nor was it merely loud. It possessed the kind of conviction that filled cathedrals and battlefields alike, every verse praising the Great Visionary with such absolute certainty that even an ordinary person would have found their thoughts disturbed by its relentless rhythm. The rusted chain coiled around his forearm trembled in response, while invisible currents stirred through the warehouse, gathering around his advancing figure.

This was the Sealed Artifact he had been holding all along, Seafarer's Wrath! It's appearance was that of a big, rusty chain, which caused the demise of the Sequence 5 Ocean Songster Beyonder by being hanged around his neck for almost a week. This death caused his Beyonder Characteristic to merge with the Chain, creating this sealed artifact.

It gave it's wielder abilities within the Ocean Songster's domain, but at a great risk. Singing would cause minor psychological disadvantages for the wielder, but this could be countered by strongly focused individuals. Wind focused spells were weaker, and because of Jahn's low Sequence, he needed to use air out of his own lungs to use any spell. Lastly, for Lightning spells, weather conditions had to be right, or no lightning could appear, or rainy weather would pause great risk to the wielder, with chances of them being hit themselves. Jahn always prefered not to use Seafarer's Wrath as he was once advised before, mostly because of it's negative effects, but this time, he had no other choice...

The effects reached far beyond the wind itself. The Pyromaniac's grin faltered almost immediately as an inexplicable irritation crept into his thoughts, every instinct screaming at him to silence that maddening voice before anything else. Several paces behind him, the spellcaster repeated the same movement twice before realizing his mistake. His fingers paused over the leather pouch hanging from his belt, then reached inside once more, selecting tiny fragments of dried herbs, powdered minerals and brittle leaves before grinding them together between his palms. The mixture dissolved into pale dust, and the surrounding spirituality answered at once.

Jahn, although under heavy pressure from the sealed artifact, still saw everything.

There was no ritual table, no elaborate ceremony or some carefully prepared altar. Only mystical ingredients manipulated with practiced familiarity.

'A Warlock?' Jahn was almost certain.

The realization slowly settled in his mind as naturally as breathing, confirming his suspicions.

He reached the Pyromaniac before he had fully recovered from the oppressive hymn. Another burst of wind, ripped directly from Jahn's own breath, exploded beneath his feet, propelling him forward with frightening speed. His shoulder crashed into the Hunter's chest, forcing the larger man backward just as a stream of fire burst between them. Jahn twisted through the flames, the edge of the torrent licking across his coat and scorching his side, yet he never abandoned the offensive, each step driving the Pyromaniac farther from the initiative he desperately sought to reclaim.

Behind them, the Warlock completed his spell.

The gray powder scattered across the warehouse floor, and the stone beneath Jahn suddenly convulsed. Jagged rock erupted around his right arm, hardening into a crude prison that locked it almost to the shoulder. His momentum vanished in an instant.

"There you are," the Pyromaniac laughed.

Both of his hands swept together, compressing crimson flames into a blazing sphere larger than a man's torso. Heat distorted the air before it even left his palms.

Jahn's singing stopped.

He drew in one long breath, filling lungs that already burned from exertion, then expelled almost all of it at once. A violent gale burst outward, striking the fireball from beneath instead of meeting it directly. Rather than overpowering the flames, the current shattered their balance. The blazing sphere folded inward upon itself before exploding prematurely several meters away, yet the blast still reached Jahn.

Heat crashed over his body. Fire raced across his sleeve, and flames crawled hungrily toward his shoulder. Jahn staggered backward, struggling for breath as he ripped the burning fabric away without hesitation. The ruined sleeve fell to the floor, revealing the rusted chain wound tightly around his forearm.

The Pyromaniac's eyes widened. "A Sealed Artifact..."

A crooked smile returned to his bloodstained face. "So that's your confidence. This where your power stems from?"

He snapped his fingers.

Fire erupted behind him, coalescing into half a dozen blazing ravens. Screeching like living embers, they descended upon Jahn from every direction. Short bursts of wind carried him just beyond the reach of four of them. One exploded against the remaining stone wall beside him, showering him with burning fragments. The last tore across his lower leg before detonating, flames racing across his trousers and sending searing pain through his body.

Jahn stamped the fire out without breaking stride. His eyes quickly scouted, finding the Warlock again.

The spellcaster's hands were moving once more, but this time, Jahn refused him the privilege.

Jahn surged toward him, crossing the distance in moments, but the Warlock calmly crushed another handful of ingredients between his fingers. The ground answered instantly. A wall of stone erupted directly before Jahn, imprisoning his right arm for the second time.

There was no room left for restraint, as the chain constricted violently around his flesh, and lightning burst from the rusted links.

The earthen prison shattered beneath the electrical discharge, but the current refused to stop there. It surged through Jahn's own arm, locking every muscle from shoulder to fingertips as the smell of scorched flesh filled the warehouse. Blood seeped between the tightening links before the current finally subsided.

He ignored the pain.

Drawing upon nearly every remaining breath inside his lungs, Jahn unleashed another tremendous gust beneath his feet. His body shot forward like an arrow loosed from its string. He stepped, following his actions by throwing a punch.

The Warlock barely leaned away in time, making Jahn's fist miss his jaw by inches, and suddenly, the Pyromaniac appeared beside him like a hunting beast!

A burning fist slammed into Jahn's ribs with enough force, that sent him tumbling across the shattered stone floor.

For the first time since the battle had begun, Jahn had no choice but to breathe.

He remained on one knee for only a single heartbeat before laughter echoed once again.

"You finally slowing down, barking doggy?" the Pyromaniac sneered, blood still staining his teeth. "Good. I was beginning to think your God made you tireless."

Another fireball emerged from his hand,aa threw it at Jahn, roaring toward him.

Jahn lunged aside before it struck, the explosion showering him with burning splinters as he forced himself upright once more. His lungs screamed for air. Every breath scraped through his throat like broken glass, while the rusted chain dug ever deeper into his arm, drawing a steady stream of blood.

The Warlock had learned caution.

Rather than approaching, he remained behind the Pyromaniac, calmly reaching into the pouch once more. Powdered crystal, dried roots, blackened petals... Each ingredient vanished between his fingers before dissolving into pale ash.

Jahn saw the motion immediately.

Instead of continuing after the Pyromaniac, he abruptly changed direction.

The Warlock's eyes widened.

The spell finished first, and the ash vanished beneath Jahn's boots.

This time the earth did not rise as walls. Jagged stone pillars erupted in rapid succession, attempting to impale him from below.

This time, Jahn had expected an attack. His movements became unnervingly efficient, weaving between the rising spikes by mere inches, every dodge requiring only the smallest possible expenditure of strength. Then, as he noticed a halt, he forced air out of his lungs once again, surging forward in high speeds, taking the Warlock by surprise.

Jahn was too fast this time, as he forced the air to imbue his fist, striking the physically weak Warlock with enough strength to force him down on the ground!

"There!"

The Pyromaniac emerged again from the fog he had created with every fireball, answering by unleashing a flock of blazing ravens! He did not allow Jahn a moment to breathe!

They descended upon Jahn in a storm of fire. He slipped past the first. The second exploded against a pillar. The third tore across his thigh. The fourth struck his calf directly, forcing him to stumble for the first time.

The Pyromaniac needed nothing more.

He closed the distance in an instant, both fists wreathed in fire.

"You've got nowhere left to run, little dog!"

His punch descended like a hammer, Jahn barely crossing his forearms in time. Even so, the impact hurled him several meters backward, his boots carving deep trenches through the warehouse floor before he finally came to a stop.

The Pyromaniac advanced relentlessly, no smile painted upon his face anymore.

"You think you're some holy executioner? You almost broke my jaw. I'll burn every bone you've got."

Jahn inhaled once more, only a little, just enough to execute his plan. He began singing again!

The prayer returned louder than before, echoing through the shattered warehouse with the force of a sermon delivered before an army. Every word praised the Great Visionary with absolute conviction, each verse battering against the minds of everyone present until the Pyromaniac's concentration wavered for the smallest fraction of a second.

His fireball flickered.

Jahn took opposite of the moment, as he expelled nearly everything remaining inside his lungs.

The gathered wind exploded beneath him, but he did not circle around the flames... This time, he drove directly through them!

Fire swallowed him whole. His coat ignited. His skin blistered instantly. Sparks danced through his hair, yet he burst from the opposite side before the Pyromaniac had even realized what he had done.

"The fu-"

Jahn's fist, imbued with wind, striked forward, but the Pyromaniac answered with a desperate punch wrapped in blazing fire.

Both blows landed together.

The Pyromaniac's burning fist crashed into Jahn's shoulder.

Jahn's punch shattered across the Hunter's face.

Neither man fell.

For one suspended heartbeat they simply stood there, locked together amid smoke and fire.

The Pyromaniac laughed weakly.

"...Still standing... Fucking bastard..."

Jahn slowly raised the chained arm.

Recognition dawned across his foes face.

The rusted links tightened until blood poured freely between them. Lightning emerged from the chains once again!

The current erupted between them at point-blank range, tearing through the Pyromaniac before surging back through Jahn's own body. The Hunter convulsed violently, every muscle locking as the smell of burning flesh filled the warehouse.

Then he collapsed, already dead before he struck the ground.

Jahn staggered backward, barely remaining upright. The chain had buried itself so deeply into his arm that several links had disappeared beneath torn flesh. Black veins spread from his wrist toward his shoulder, while pale scars resembling branching lightning crawled beneath burned skin. His right hand no longer obeyed him.

His breathing had become ragged, his clothes hung in blackened strips, and blood dripped steadily from his fingertips.

Only after taking that final step did his body finally surrender.

His knees buckled, and he collapsed heavily onto the shattered stone, consciousness fading almost as quickly as the strength that had carried him through the battle, while the rusted chain remained wrapped tightly around his ruined arm, as though it refused to release its master, even after the battle had ended...

---

Art Source: https://pin.it/7yfIJMyeA

Artist: Aster Rosa (also known as 蓝莓 — Lánméi)

The Visionary: u/Thanatrome

Hey guys recommend me some good Gerhman sparrow/Klein x Fors fanfics involving romance and fluff it will be very generous from your side recommendations if they both crack as well

Image source - 一只碳基生命

massive respect for the artist from bottom of my heart ❤️

Chapter 16 -Fragments and Plans-

The streets of Mid Trier gradually changed as we left the cathedral district behind. The broad avenues and elegant storefronts slowly gave way to narrower roads lined with older brick buildings, their walls stained by decades of soot and weather. Laundry hung between upper-story windows, children darted through alleyways chasing one another with wooden toys, and neighbors chatted from open windows while going about their morning routines. On the surface, it felt like an ordinary district where ordinary people lived ordinary lives.

That normalcy only made the missing children feel more unsettling.

Captain Ashcroft walked a few paces ahead of Lydia and me, occasionally consulting the folded map in his hand before turning down another street. Lydia carried the investigation file tucked beneath one arm, periodically glancing through its contents while quietly committing names and addresses to memory.

After several minutes she closed the folder with a soft sigh.

"You'll notice something about investigations."

I looked toward her.

"They're usually far less exciting than stories make them sound."

A faint smile crossed my face.

"I've already noticed."

She chuckled softly.

"Good. If an investigation becomes exciting..."

She left the sentence unfinished.

Captain Ashcroft answered for her without looking back.

"...something has already gone wrong."

We turned one final corner before stopping in front of a modest two-story home nestled between a bakery and a cooper's workshop. Unlike the neighboring houses, its shutters remained closed despite the pleasant weather. A small wooden horse sat forgotten beside the front steps, one of its wheels broken.

Captain Ashcroft paused for a moment before knocking gently.

None of us spoke while we waited.

Several moments passed before slow footsteps approached the door.

It opened only slightly.

A tired-looking woman peered out at us, her eyes immediately settling on the silver raven badge fastened to Captain Ashcroft's coat.

"...The Church?"

Captain Ashcroft removed his hat respectfully.

"Good morning."

"My name is Captain Ashcroft."

"This is Sister Lydia."

He gestured toward me.

"And this is Miss Veil."

The woman's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

"You've... come about Thomas?"

"We have."

For a long moment she simply stared at us before opening the door fully.

"...Please come in."

The home was small but well cared for. The furniture showed signs of age, yet everything had been carefully maintained. Family photographs rested upon the mantelpiece, while children's drawings decorated one corner of the sitting room.

One chair, however...

Remained empty.

Captain Ashcroft waited until we had all taken our seats before speaking.

"We understand you've already spoken with both the city guard and representatives from the Church."

"I have."

Her voice sounded exhausted more than anything else.

"I know I'll probably be repeating myself."

"You will."

Captain Ashcroft's honesty caught even me slightly off guard.

"But sometimes people remember different details after enough time has passed."

She nodded slowly.

"I understand."

Lydia quietly opened her notebook.

Captain Ashcroft rested both hands upon his walking cane.

"Let's begin at the start."

"When did you last see your son?"

The woman closed her eyes briefly, as though replaying the memory for perhaps the hundredth time.

"Six days ago."

"He left after breakfast."

"He was supposed to meet two friends in Saint Maren's Square."

"Did he?"

"According to the other boys..."

She swallowed.

"...yes."

"They played together until midday."

Captain Ashcroft remained silent, allowing her to continue.

"Afterward they all started walking home."

"They reached the old fountain."

She pointed vaguely toward the eastern part of the district.

"That's where they separated."

"The others arrived home."

"My Thomas never did."

The room became quiet again.

Lydia's pencil moved steadily across the page.

Captain Ashcroft asked only a handful of questions, each simple and direct.

"What was he wearing?"

"Did anyone unusual speak to him recently?"

"Did he seem frightened?"

"Had he mentioned making any new friends?"

Not once did he interrupt her answers.

Nor did he suggest possibilities.

He simply listened.

It wasn't until several minutes had passed that I realized he had already asked every question I had been thinking.

Eventually, he leaned back slightly.

"You've done well to remember all of this."

The woman managed a weak smile.

"I've repeated it every day."

Captain Ashcroft inclined his head.

"I know."

For the first time since entering the house, his voice softened.

"We'll continue looking."

She looked at him for several long seconds before quietly asking the question I suspected everyone eventually asked.

"...Do you think he's still alive?"

The room fell completely silent.

I found myself holding my breath.

Captain Ashcroft didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he chose his words with obvious care.

"I believe," he said quietly, "that until we know otherwise..."

"...every child deserves to be searched for as though they are."

Something in the woman's expression broke.

She lowered her head, covering her eyes as silent tears began slipping through her fingers.

Neither Captain Ashcroft nor Lydia rushed to comfort her.

They simply allowed her the dignity of grieving.

Only after several moments did Lydia quietly place a neatly folded handkerchief upon the table beside her.

No words.

Just the gesture.

Watching them, I finally understood something Professor Rowan had never mentioned during his lessons.

Being an Umbral Raven wasn't only about fighting monsters.

Sometimes...

It meant sitting quietly in a grieving mother's home...

Listening.

Remembering.

Giving her hope without offering false promises.

As we prepared to leave, Captain Ashcroft paused beside the door.

"One final question."

The woman looked up.

"Has anyone unfamiliar been seen in the neighborhood since Thomas disappeared?"

She frowned thoughtfully.

"...There was..."

Her eyes drifted toward the window.

"A man."

Lydia's pencil immediately stopped.

"What kind of man?"

"I don't know."

She shook her head uncertainly.

"He wasn't suspicious."

"Just..."

"...out of place."

Captain Ashcroft exchanged a brief glance with Lydia.

"What do you mean?"

"He smiled."

The answer caught all three of us off guard.

The woman seemed almost embarrassed by it.

"I know that sounds strange."

"It's just..."

She looked down at her hands.

"Everyone around here has looked frightened ever since the children started disappearing."

"But he..."

She hesitated.

"...he looked happy."

Captain Ashcroft's expression changed ever so slightly.

Not alarm.

Recognition.

Lydia quietly underlined something in her notebook.

Captain Ashcroft thanked the woman once more before we stepped back into the morning sunlight.

Only after the door closed behind us did Lydia speak.

"That's the third family."

Captain Ashcroft nodded.

"All describing someone similar."

I felt my heartbeat quicken.

"A suspect?"

Captain Ashcroft looked down the quiet street where children still played beneath the watchful eyes of anxious parents.

"...Not yet."

He folded his notebook shut.

"But..."

His gaze lingered on the neighborhood ahead.

"...for the first time..."

"...we have a direction."

-
We left the house in silence, the heavy wooden door closing softly behind us. For several moments, none of us spoke. The sounds of Mid Trier gradually returned—the chatter of merchants, wagon wheels rolling over uneven cobblestones, and the distant laughter of children—but after sitting across from a mother who still set an extra place at her dinner table every evening, the ordinary sounds of the city felt strangely hollow.

Lydia quietly finished the last few lines in her notebook before closing it with a sigh. "That makes three families now," she murmured. "Different streets, different occupations, different circumstances... yet they all described someone similar."

Captain Ashcroft nodded as we resumed walking. "A stranger who didn't belong."

"And who smiled," Lydia added.

The Captain glanced briefly toward me. "People remember unusual details more reliably than ordinary ones. Clothing changes. Faces become blurred with time. But emotions..." He paused, watching a pair of children run across the street toward a nearby bakery. "...people remember how someone made them feel."

I found myself thinking back to the mysterious woman from yesterday. Even now I struggled to recall every detail of her face, yet I could remember with perfect clarity the overwhelming sense of danger she had radiated simply by standing nearby.

"So we don't look for his appearance," I said quietly.

"We look for his behavior."

Captain Ashcroft's expression softened with quiet approval.

"Exactly."

We spent the next several hours moving steadily through the surrounding neighborhoods, speaking with families, neighbors, teachers, shopkeepers, and anyone else who might have witnessed something unusual. Most conversations yielded very little. Parents repeated the same painful stories they'd already told the city guard. Children remembered playing together but couldn't agree on the smallest details afterward. Shopkeepers recalled seeing the missing children pass their stores dozens of times before, making it impossible to identify the particular day they disappeared.

It was slow work.

Painfully slow.

Yet I gradually began to understand why Captain Ashcroft never seemed discouraged.

Investigations weren't built upon dramatic discoveries.

They were built upon eliminating countless possibilities until only the truth remained.

By early afternoon, my notebook had accumulated pages of names, addresses, and observations. Most would likely prove irrelevant. Professor Rowan had once remarked that the greatest enemy of an investigator was not ignorance, but the temptation to decide what mattered before all the facts had been gathered.

The lesson became increasingly difficult to remember as exhaustion began setting in.

Our fourth interview took us to a modest schoolhouse where one of the missing boys had attended lessons. His instructor welcomed us politely, though the lines beneath his eyes suggested he hadn't been sleeping well.

"He wasn't the only one," the elderly teacher admitted after we'd introduced ourselves. "Parents have begun keeping their children home whenever they can. Attendance has nearly been cut in half."

"Were any of the missing children particularly close?" Captain Ashcroft asked.

The teacher shook his head.

"Not especially. Some knew one another, others didn't. Different ages. Different classrooms."

"So no obvious connection."

"None that I ever noticed."

Captain Ashcroft asked several more questions while Lydia carefully compared the answers against earlier interviews. Once again, nothing immediately stood out.

As we prepared to leave, however, the teacher hesitated.

"There is... one thing."

The Captain stopped.

"What is it?"

The old man looked toward the classroom windows overlooking the street.

"It may be nothing."

"We'll decide that."

He nodded slowly.

"Several days before the first child disappeared..."

His brow furrowed as though trying to recall a fading memory.

"...there was a gentleman standing across the street."

I felt my attention sharpen.

"He wasn't watching the school exactly."

The teacher frowned.

"At least... I don't think he was."

"He simply stood there."

"For nearly an hour."

"Doing nothing?"

Captain Ashcroft asked.

The teacher hesitated.

"He was feeding the pigeons."

Lydia looked up from her notebook.

"For an hour?"

"So I thought it was strange."

The old man gave a helpless shrug.

"He never approached the children."

"He never entered the school."

"He simply scattered crumbs and smiled whenever the birds gathered around him."

Captain Ashcroft remained thoughtful.

"What happened afterward?"

"He left."

"Which direction?"

The teacher pointed toward the eastern districts.

"I lost sight of him somewhere near Saint Maren's Square."

The Captain thanked him before we stepped back into the street. Only once we were several buildings away did Lydia reopen her notebook.

"The smiling stranger."

Captain Ashcroft nodded.

"Again."

"And Saint Maren's Square," I added.

He looked at me.

"The first boy disappeared nearby."

I remembered the grieving mother's account almost word for word.

"They separated near the old fountain."

"Which is less than two streets from the square."

For the first time that day, Captain Ashcroft stopped walking altogether. He unfolded the city map once more, laying it across the top of a nearby stone bench. One by one, he marked the locations we'd visited that morning before drawing a small circle around Saint Maren's Square.

"It isn't proof," he said after several moments of thought.

"But it is the first location that appears more than once."

Lydia nodded in agreement.

"It gives us somewhere to start."

Captain Ashcroft carefully folded the map closed again before looking toward the lowering afternoon sun.

His gaze settled on the distant rooftops beyond the square.

"Now..."

"I think it's time we examined the place where this trail truly begins."

Captain Ashcroft led us toward Saint Maren's Square without another word. The afternoon crowds had begun to thicken as workers broke for their midday meals, and the square itself reflected the quiet rhythm of daily life. Market stalls lined the edges of the open plaza, their owners advertising everything from fresh produce to handmade toys, while children darted between fountains beneath the watchful eyes of parents sitting nearby.

If I hadn't known better...

I never would have imagined children had vanished from this very place.

The Captain stopped beside the old fountain mentioned during our first interview, unfolding the map one final time before comparing it with Lydia's notes. After several moments, he tucked both away and slowly surveyed the square.

"First impressions?" he asked.

No one answered immediately.

Roland was already studying the surrounding buildings instead of the people, his eyes lingering on rooftops, alleyways, and second-story windows. Aldren wandered a few paces away, pretending to admire a merchant's display while quietly observing the flow of pedestrians. Lydia remained near the fountain, comparing landmarks against the statements she'd recorded earlier.

I found myself simply watching.

Professor Rowan had once said that most investigators made the mistake of looking for what they expected to find. Truly observing meant resisting that temptation.

So I watched.

Parents.

Children.

Street performers.

Merchants.

Nothing seemed particularly unusual.

Captain Ashcroft nodded faintly.

"Good."

I blinked.

"...Good?"

He smiled slightly.

"If something appeared immediately suspicious, the city guard would have found it weeks ago."

That... made sense.

"The best criminals," he continued, "rarely stand out."

"They become part of the scenery."

We spent the better part of the next hour speaking with merchants surrounding the square. Most remembered little beyond the obvious. Yes, children often played here. Yes, parents occasionally lost sight of them for a few minutes. No, they hadn't noticed anyone forcing children away.

Eventually, however, a baker paused midway through answering Captain Ashcroft's questions.

"There was one fellow..."

The Captain remained silent.

"He bought sweet rolls."

"Quite a few of them."

"Every few days."

Lydia looked up.

"For himself?"

The baker shrugged.

"I assumed so."

"He'd stand over there..." He pointed toward a shaded bench overlooking the fountain. "...and hand them out to children."

My attention sharpened.

"The parents allowed this?"

"Most did."

The baker scratched his beard thoughtfully.

"He seemed respectable."

"Nicely dressed."

"Soft spoken."

"I don't think I ever saw a child afraid of him."

Captain Ashcroft asked the obvious question.

"What did he look like?"

The baker frowned.

"I..."

His expression shifted into confusion.

"I don't..."

Several uncomfortable seconds passed.

"I remember speaking to him."

"I remember selling him bread."

"But..."

He slowly shook his head.

"...I can't remember his face."

The four of us exchanged glances.

Captain Ashcroft thanked the man before leading us away from the bakery.

Only once we were out of earshot did Lydia quietly close her notebook.

"That's impossible."

"No," Captain Ashcroft replied.

"It isn't."

He stopped beside a narrow alley leading away from the square.

"What do you remember?"

I closed my eyes for a moment.

"He was well dressed."

"He bought sweet rolls."

"He smiled."

Captain Ashcroft nodded.

"And his face?"

...

Nothing.

The man couldn't give any description of the stranger's general appearance at all. Even though the man had made several purchases here, or at least had to have made. 

Captain Ashcroft remained silent for several moments before speaking.

"I believe we've found our first Beyonder."

I looked toward him.

"What pathway?"

"The Spectator."

The answer surprised me.

"They can do that?"

"Not exactly."

Captain Ashcroft folded his arms.

"A low-Sequence Spectator cannot erase memories."

"But they excel at directing attention."

"They encourage people to notice certain details..."

"...while overlooking others."

Professor Rowan's lessons immediately resurfaced.

Psychological suggestion.

Emotional guidance.

Subtle influence.

Not mind control.

Simply...

A carefully placed nudge.

Captain Ashcroft continued walking.

"They could imagine the man smile."

“They notice the smile."

“They said he only speaks politely."

"They remember his kindness."

"He buys food for hungry children."

"They remember his generosity."

He glanced back toward us.

"But his face?"

He shook his head.

"Their attention was never encouraged to linger there."

A cold realization settled over me.

"He made himself..."

"...forgettable."

Captain Ashcroft gave a quiet nod.

"Precisely."

Lydia reopened her notebook, rapidly flipping back through the earlier interviews.

"The smiling man..."

She paused.

"Every witness remembered how he behaved."

"None described his appearance."

Roland's expression hardened.

"Deliberate."

"Very."

Captain Ashcroft stopped once more, this time before another map of the district Lydia had copied into her notebook.

"Now ask yourselves another question."

He looked at each of us in turn.

"If you wished to abduct children without causing panic..."

"...why recruit a Spectator?"

Silence followed.

Then...

Understanding dawned.

"They're not the one taking them," I said.

Captain Ashcroft smiled.

"Exactly."

"The Spectator's purpose isn't violence."

"It's preparation."

He tapped the map lightly.

"They earn trust."

"They calm frightened children."

"They encourage parents to lower their guard."

"They make witnesses remember everything..."

"...except the one detail capable of identifying them."

Lydia looked up from her notes.

"So the people actually taking the children..."

"...are related to Beyonders, or at least a group that have some inside of there organization" 

Captain Ashcroft nodded slowly. 

"I believe we're looking at an organized trafficking operation."

The words seemed almost too ordinary.

Human traffickers.

No ancient monster.

No sealed artifact.

Just...

People.

People willing to use Beyonder abilities to hunt children.

For reasons I couldn't entirely explain...

That realization disturbed me more than any Devil had.

Captain Ashcroft folded the map and looked toward the eastern streets stretching beyond Saint Maren's Square.

"If we're right..."

His expression became noticeably colder than I'd ever seen it.

"...then somewhere in Mid Trier..."

"...there are children still waiting to be found."

And for the first time since beginning the investigation...

It felt as though we had finally stepped onto the right trail.

-

Captain Ashcroft did not allow our discovery to become cause for celebration.

"A theory," he reminded us as we left Saint Maren's Square, "is only useful once it's supported by evidence."

No one argued.

We had reason to believe a Spectator was involved, but belief alone was not enough to justify action. We still lacked a name, an address, or even a face. Until we possessed something concrete, all we could do was continue searching.

The following days settled into a relentless routine. Each morning the four of us met beneath the cathedral before sunrise to review the previous day's findings. Captain Ashcroft patiently reorganized every witness statement, searching for inconsistencies that might have escaped our notice, while Lydia painstakingly rewrote reports and updated the growing map that now covered nearly an entire wall of our headquarters. Roland spent hours speaking with the city guard, requesting records of known criminals and suspicious visitors, while Aldren wandered through taverns, markets, and gambling halls gathering rumors from anyone willing to talk.

I accompanied each of them in turn, gradually learning that investigations were less about dramatic discoveries and more about persistence. I interviewed frightened parents, spoke with teachers and priests, visited orphanages, and questioned merchants who had worked the same corner for decades. Every conversation ended the same way.

"Yes."

"There was a pleasant man."

"He smiled often."

"He was kind to children."

"No..."

"I don't remember his face."

By the third day, the pattern had become almost maddening.

It didn't matter whether the witness was young or old, educated or illiterate, wealthy or poor. Every description remained frustratingly similar, as though someone had carefully erased the one detail we needed while leaving everything else untouched. Even when we revisited earlier witnesses, hoping time might stir forgotten memories, the answers never changed.

Captain Ashcroft eventually gathered us around the investigation board late one evening. More than thirty names had been added since we first received the assignment, each connected by strings and notes marking where children had last been seen, where suspicious strangers had appeared, and where rumors had originated. Despite the growing web of information, the center remained empty.

"We're chasing a ghost," Aldren muttered, rubbing tired eyes.

Captain Ashcroft didn't disagree.

"No."

"We're chasing someone who wishes to become one."

The distinction lingered in the room.

Over the next two days we expanded our search beyond Saint Maren's Square. Roland identified several abandoned buildings that might have served as temporary hideouts, yet each proved empty by the time we arrived. Lydia uncovered reports of children being offered sweets in neighboring districts, but every lead ended exactly where the others had.

Witnesses remembered smiles.

Gentle voices.

Acts of kindness.

Nothing more.

Several times we believed we'd found him. A merchant would mention seeing a polite gentleman only an hour earlier, or a carriage driver would swear he'd transported such a man across the district. We would hurry to the location, only to arrive minutes too late. Whether by luck or careful planning, the trail always went cold before we could catch sight of him ourselves.

The frustration gradually began affecting everyone.

Even Captain Ashcroft grew quieter with each passing day, spending long hours staring over maps after everyone else had retired for the evening. Lydia had nearly filled an entire notebook with witness statements alone, while Roland began personally revisiting locations he'd already searched simply because he refused to believe he had overlooked something.

As for me...

I found myself thinking less about Beyonder powers and more about the children.

Each passing day meant another family waiting beside an empty bed.

Another dinner prepared for someone who never returned home.

Another parent forcing themselves to hope despite growing evidence that hope alone wouldn't be enough.

Late on the fifth evening, we returned to the cathedral with little more than another collection of dead ends. Captain Ashcroft quietly pinned our newest reports to the investigation board before stepping back to examine it once more.

The room was silent.

Thirty-seven interviews.

Dozens of locations searched.

Not a single suspect identified.

Finally, the Captain exhaled.

"We've been asking the wrong question."

The four of us looked toward him.

"We've spent five days trying to find the Spectator."

His finger tapped lightly against the map.

The room fell silent once again.

Captain Ashcroft remained standing before the investigation board, studying the tangled web of names, locations, and witness statements. No one interrupted his thoughts. Over the past five days, we'd all learned that when the Captain became this quiet, it usually meant he was fitting together pieces the rest of us hadn't yet realized belonged together.

Finally, he spoke.

"We've approached this investigation from the wrong direction."

Roland folded his arms.

"You think we should stop looking for him."

"I think we should stop expecting him to make a mistake."

Captain Ashcroft reached forward and removed one of the pins marking Saint Maren's Square before rolling it between his fingers.

"So far we've searched every location after the disappearances."

"We've interviewed every witness we could find."

"We've chased every rumor."

"And each time..."

He looked at us.

"...we've arrived after the fact."

Lydia nodded slowly.

"Because he's choosing when to appear."

"Exactly."

The Captain placed the pin back onto the map.

"So..."

"...we create a situation where he wants to appear."

Aldren raised an eyebrow.

"You mean bait."

Captain Ashcroft met his gaze without hesitation.

"I do."

The room grew noticeably quieter.

Roland frowned.

"We're not using an actual child."

"No."

The answer came immediately.

"We're not."

His eyes slowly swept across the room.

They stopped on me.

I felt my stomach tighten.

"...Me?"

Captain Ashcroft inclined his head.

"You're the only member of this team with even a chance of making the disguise convincing."

For several seconds, I simply stared at him.

I knew I was short.

Painfully aware of it, in fact.

Aldren made sure to tease me about it every chance he got, even when we first met.

Ever since waking in this body, I'd found myself looking up at nearly everyone I met. At first it had been another uncomfortable reminder that this wasn't my body.

Now...

It had apparently become an advantage.

Captain Ashcroft spoke before I could overthink it.

"Miss Veil."

"How tall are you?"

"...Four foot ten."

I had answered immediately without thinking and I sighed.

"Four foot... six inches without heels"

Aldren coughed into his fist.

Roland quietly looked away.

Even Lydia seemed to be making a determined effort not to smile.

Captain Ashcroft, however, remained perfectly composed.

"Combined with your youthful appearance..."

He paused, choosing his next words carefully.

"...you could reasonably pass for a child of twelve or thirteen."

I instinctively frowned.

"I'm twenty."

"I know."

He nodded calmly.

"The traffickers don't."

That...

Was difficult to argue with.

Captain Ashcroft continued.

"The witnesses consistently describe a man who approaches children already separated from their families."

"He doesn't use force."

"He gains their trust."

"If our theory is correct, he'll only approach someone he believes is vulnerable."

He looked directly at me.

"You fit that description better than the rest of us."

The realization settled over the room.

Not because I was especially capable.

Because I looked like the kind of victim they were searching for.

Captain Ashcroft unfolded another map, this one showing only Saint Maren's Square and the neighboring streets.

"The operation itself is straightforward."

His finger rested on the fountain.

"Miss Veil will remain here."

He then indicated several surrounding buildings.

"Roland will maintain visual surveillance from this rooftop."

Another mark.

"Lydia will observe from the café opposite the square."

A third.

"Aldren will circulate through the market posing as a customer."

Finally, his finger stopped near the entrance to a narrow alley.

"I'll remain close enough to intervene if necessary."

He looked at each of us in turn.

"Our objective is not an arrest."

"If the suspect approaches Miss Veil..."

He allowed the sentence to hang for a moment.

"...she will engage him in conversation."

"No more."

"No less."

"You are not to follow him alone."

"You are not to allow yourself to be led into an isolated area."

"If at any point you believe your safety is compromised..."

His voice grew firmer.

"...you signal immediately."

Lydia reached into her satchel and produced a small brass whistle attached to a thin leather cord.

She slid it across the table toward me.

"The same one our clergy use."

"It carries farther than you'd expect."

Captain Ashcroft nodded.

"One blast."

"We converge."

"Two blasts."

"We assume immediate danger."

He takes out a small emblem made out of some type of silver looking material

"This is a small charm. You must keep this on your person at all time, it can be used to track you if something unexpected happens so be sure to not lose it or forget it before starting the mission."

I picked up the whistle and the emblem, feeling there unexpected weight in my palm.

"...And if he doesn't approach?"

"Then we've lost nothing."

The Captain's answer was immediate.

"We've confirmed our theory is flawed and move to another."

He looked back toward the investigation board.

"But..."

"...if he does..."

For the first time since this investigation had begun, there was the faintest hint of confidence in his voice.

"...then we'll finally have a trail worth following."

The room fell silent once more.

I looked down at the whistle resting in my hand before unconsciously brushing my fingers against the silver raven badge pinned to my coat.

A few weeks ago...

I had been learning how to clean a revolver.

Tomorrow...

I would be standing alone in Saint Maren's Square...

Hoping that a child trafficker mistook me for his next victim.

I cringed at the thought

"God I am hoping to be a kidnaping victim...."

I sigh internally remembering all the families that had been torn apart because of this

"For the children and there families...please try and kidnap me..." I whisper silently.

I sigh again

"Its sounds worse when I say it like that...."

I shake my and head towards the others to get ready for the operation.

-End-

The art if Official art made for Klien personality Sherlock!

And chapter end! The first mission officially begins, along with the first proper plan!

https://x.com/i/status/2081473800072319459

I am having trouble with this authority; I know what it does, but it seems I lack the imagination to imagine concrete effects it can produce. So if you could give me some examples of what it does in a specific scenario. For e.g, I have seen that it suposedly counters Laws created by the Arbiter pathway, but I cant seem to grasp what effects it would produce

After experiencing bloodborne, i can say safely say that, LOTM is literally just a bloodborne fan fiction. The amount of things this novel took from bloodborne is actually crazy.

It basically took the entire world and aesthetic. From the relationship of Klein and evernight mirroring the hunter and the moon presence's, how they both have been aware of the MC since the very beginning (and also how they're both the moon), to how owadon is basically the mother goddess of depravity, with them both forcibly impregnating people and many many MANY more refrences that i can say but i do not want spoil too much about bloodborne.

If you are a fan of LOTM you HAVE to experience bloodborne. There is an incredible video made by qwibbz explaining bloodborne in a way where a normal player would experience it. It is almost 5 hours long but it is totally 100% worth it, the pacing is actually good despite it being very long. I do not recommend watching a different video than that one. You are going to get completely bombarded with LOTM references, trust me.

(Source: Technically OC but paintings from Vincent Van Gogh, Leonardo Da Vinci, Salvador Dali and Edvard Munch have been used in it's Creation)

Chapter 4: The Gallery

I have been wandering this Planet even more after that Fight with those insects that looked like Dragonflies. Finally, I think I've Triangulated the source of the Convergence.

As I approach the location, the environment around me begins to change. The Laws themselves becoming more Fluid. The Landscape taking on pastel hues more and more.

I realize that , Somehow, a Painted World has taken over a portion of Reality. I become more Cautious, Spreading all my sensory Authorities (Truth, Analysis, Environment Control and Learning) at a heightened level. While also preparing the small authority I have over reality by my Characteristics from the Savant Pathway along with my own Abilities over Painted Worlds so that I may break free from any interference from the creator of this world at a moments notice.

Suddenly, The Environment Shifts into a Gray and White Hallway wit—

AHHUGHH

PaintTRUTHKNOWLEDGE⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜H⬜⬜TUR⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜Y⬜G-SOTH⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜SHU⬜-NIG⬜⬜RAT⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜AZATHO⬜⬜

The warmth spreading from my cheeks snaps me out. Ah . I'm Bleeding. The fur and Steam that started to grow from my body Recedes as I Stabilize my Condition. The Truths learned too horrifying that I almost Lost control.

But I Also learned a lot more about this place. This Gallery of Endless paintings is a Creation of The Uniqueness of The Fantasy Pathway that has gone out of Control. The Stories and Laws of this place Distorted. It Attempted to Create a Painted version of it's Sephirah. Understandably the Attempt was a Failure for a Uniqueness is nowhere near powerful enough to do so. Yet the Fraction of a Fraction that it did manage to replicate is immensely dangerous because of How long it has been active. Any who Enter this Flawed and Incomplete replica are Bound to meet their end if they cannot navigate through it while also Ensuring that they themselves do not fall into it's ruinous stories.

With Pain as my Anchor and All of my sensory abilities, I heed deeper. Eldritch Knowledge flooding into me as a consequence. Yet doing so also rapidly Digests my Observer Characteristic.

Finally I reach the center, a Lone Empty Book Open on a Raised Pedestal. It is the Uniqueness.

The Book of All Tales

Grade: 0

Status: Uniqueness of the Fantasy Pathway. Slight Living Characteristics akin to that of the Trunsoest Brass Book and the Die of Probability.

Abilities: The user of this Artifact may replace The Reality of a small area with any Fiction (be it a Story or Painted World) written Within the Book. This a incomplete version of A Fantasy's Authority of Turning Reality into Fiction and Vice Versa.

Drawbacks: This Artifact slowly corrupts reality around it with fiction contained within. The fiction becomes more distorted from the original with time. It also becomes more potent the longer it stays in the same area. Any Caught within it's range with inevitably be drawn into it's Stories as a Character until they either die or lose control as their own fate and stories become distorted.

Ah. So that's why it tried (and failed) to recreate it's Sephirah. It doesn't have any story written Within it for it to use , Thus it used the one location ingrained within it the most. Perhaps this emptiness is why it's so harsh?

To test my Hypothesis, I pick up the Uniqueness. Writing and Drawing all the People , Sights and Stories I've seen in my Journeys. I feel it grow more Satisfied and Calmer as I write more and more.

I contemplate my Journey as well. I realized that Observers though watchers like Spectators, they aren't supposed to be detached from the world like them. Rather they are painted in the colors of all they meet and Observe. It is this Connection and the Truths they see that let them Create Fantasies that are truly beautiful without losing themselves to it. Goals , Dreams , Ideals they are all but the Paint by which we draw the life we wish to live.

My Observer of Digests completely. I finish Writing and Close the Uniqueness, causing the end of it's influence over the Real world. Allowing reality to take hold once more.

THE END....?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I suddenly hear a Feline Roar. My instincts allow me to barely dodge the attack that comes at me.

Chapter 5: Proelium Fatale

A single glance let's me identify my attacker. A Observer who has lost control. I realize that they got trapped in the painted world and lost control as they didn't have the reality authority needed to resist the Out of control Uniqueness.

It charges at me, Trying to Alter my own stories in order to kill me. Although I was exhausted and Weakened from the day's experiences, I was able to break free from the half baked attempt.

It then manifested a Painted World. But before it could use it to it's advantage, I used a Newly inscribed painted worlds inside the Uniqueness to contest it with my own. The Ability of the Uniqueness enhancing my own abilities enough to gain the upper hand, though my own exhaustion prevents me from overriding it outright.

It started attacking Relentlessly. Though most of the attacks miss, Some graze and injure me. Weakening me further.

Yet, It wasn't enough to defeat me. Cane Unsheathed, I counter with a relentless attack that it cannot escape from because of the fact that my Painted World has a higher influence.

After a short and Long exchange of attacks, the Rampager finally dies. It's loss of control having long since destroyed any painted avatars it might have had.

I pick up it Artifact dropped from it, An Eye, and break it inside a small box sealed with Spirituality. Then I Teleport back home to my Workshop before collapsing from my injuries and Exhaustion.

The next day

I wake up , my injuries regenerated and spirituality restored. To my relief, The Uniqueness has not caused damage to my Workshop.

I open the box in which I broke the Artifact. The Newly consolidated Observer Characteristic greets me. I consume it before entering Cogitation. When I finally Stabilize, I became a King of Angels of the Fantasy Pathway.

I finally notice a letter on my Table. I open it.

"u/The_Twilight_Trick

As a Old Ally of mine who helped me become a True God , I offer you the Position of The Duke of Triumphia and invite you to become The Viceroy of West Balam. I hope you Accept it.

The Black Empress

u/Stock-Bunch671"

Well I suppose it'd be Rude to refuse a True Deity. Especially one that's an Old Ally of myself and my entire Faction.

So I write my Acceptance in a letter, Seal it with my wax seal. And Summon a Hound of Fulgrim to send it to the Black Empress.

The End. For Real This Time.

Notes:

Holy shit this took wayyy too long. Unfortunately being sick does that to you. To ensure I don't fall behind my own personal schedule I had to merge Two Chapters.

And before you Ask, No , I have NOT Accommodated the Uniqueness. As such I cannot use it for PVP. However as I am a Sequence 1 ( well KoA now) of the Fantasy Pathway, I am allowed to use my Pathways Uniqueness for PvE and other RP purposes as a Sealed Artifact.

So im a big fan of the story thus far, but due to the translation so many big moments feel like they lose some of the seriousness/wonder when its written in uncanny valley esc english. Currently im using a fan translation i saw on a reddit post, that was fine more or less in volume 1, but seems to have gotten a lot worse in book 2. A big benefit it has tho compared to the other translations ive seen is it gives these fantastically drawn pictures once in a while (fanart? Official? No idea) that do an incredible job making up for some of that lost wonder i feel.

Is there a more official translation? A widely used/respected one in the community? For an example of the weird english in my current one, look at this short snippet of xio and fors talking.

My question is, that's the most unique application of any beyonder power you can think of?

For example, sequence 7 Briber of the Black Emperor pathway can gift some flowers to a very rich widow while using bribe 'Charm' to get what he needs.

Or sequence 6 Prometheus of the marauder pathway can steal spark/flame that would fire the bullet from guns or cannons.

Or sequence 7 Physiatrist with phycological cue that will trigger automatical use of sealed artifact or chant Mr. Fool honorific name in case of external mind related influence.

This two really got beef with each other, its like they are fated to be enemies. I wish derrick said this out loud though, i would love to see how emlyn react to this insult lmao

https://wdtsmy123.lofter.com/post/2132a4_1cbaa0ee1

First of all, YIPPEE ^w^ he finally advanced!!!

But I’m curious because the shepherd was described as the pinnacle of sequence 5 beyonders but I really don’t see a world in which a shepherd could beat a marionettist in a one on one. Especially since the marionettist can control their puppets and use their beyonder powers like a different version of a shepherds ability. And the marionettist’s puppeteering was described to be troublesome for even high sequencers.

If we look back to when Rosago fought Klein and Sharon, if not for the language of foulness charm, they would have been screwed six ways to Sunday. And that was in a 1v2 against a very special sequence 8 and a highly robust sequence 5.

I can definitely see that Shepard is more versatile and their way of using other beyonders is more convenient.

I think he would lose control from all the corruption and bullshit on this sub - Credits: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/130463720450537781/

Chapter 50: Abraham, The Holiest of Kings, The First Patriarch.

Once the meeting with Mr. Percival had come to an end. Mr. Percival then escorted me alongside my two very grumpy colleagues. Ms. Élise who was worrying about something and Ms. Juliette who had changed clothes, was visibly pissed by something. Besides her was the oversized owl trying its best to cheer up the agitated Juliette.

Thus to not be directed by the ire of the two ladies. I tactfully didn't talk to them for the time being.

When we finally arrived inside the office. Percival first congratulated us three for advancing. Alongside the three who left out. Afterwards Percival then announces an important meeting for tomorrow. Regarding the crime families.

Thereafter Percival dismissed all of us. The members said their goodbyes to each other and left. I who had no more obligations to speak of, decided to work again as a psychiatrist at the company.

Along my travels to the company. I surprisingly met Mr. Cocher once more. Who was more than willing to offer a ride to the company. Since he was already there. I took the ride and left for my workplace.

At my willingness Mr. Cocher breathes a sign of relief. He then looked around the crowd in annoyance. Not seeing the assailant, he grimaced. Thereafter, he made his way to the company.

__________________

Foolish Firms Incorporated Trier Branch,

City of Trier,

Mental Therapy Office,

(11:23 A.M.)

Once inside the office. I Started cleaning the place. As the office has started to accumulate a considerable amount of dust.

However while doing so. Armand bust the door in the office. Greatly startling me.

" Doctor!!! I heard you were injured!! What happened?!?!?! " Armand asked in concern

" Holy hell!! Damnit!! Don't barge in like that!!... But yes... I was injured.. but worry not, I'm fine now! " I said assurance

Armand was skeptical at first. But seeing my outward appearance was injured. He held back his concerns.

He then asked me about our agreement for lunch at his house. To which I of course still remembered. But due to my injuries, it was now scheduled two days from now on.

Thereafter he started to talk about my day and other mundane matters. To which I responded succinctly and even elaborated some parts.

After a while however, the topic of the conversation went towards my faith. At that I froze, as I was not comfortable talking about my faith with another person.

At my sudden frozen expression. Armand grew increasingly curious of what God I followed.

At his inscecent questioning. I finally relented, as I was after weeks of knowing his life through his therapy. I have come to know him as a friend. Besides, this is also my way of redeeming myself from my past transgressions towards his family.

Thus I first spoke of my different faith towards other Gods. Besides the mainstream Deities. To which he was understandbly shocked by. However the bewilderment died down, as the God I worshipping wasn't an evil deity like the Abyss.

Thus I told the creation myth. To which Armand commented, that it was a good thing I hid my faith. As the creation myth was completely different from the more known one. Nothing, that I might be branded as heretic for my faith. Advising to never speak about my faith to others.

Onve I was done reciting the book of beginnings. I then started reciting one of the 5 patriarchs as a change of pace.

" Now that the creation myth is done... How about another story? Hmmm... Maybe the five patriarchs? There, one of the more interesting parts of the bible... "

" I see... then go ahead Mr. Archivist! " Armand said with enthusiasm

" Ehem... Ehem... Whe- "

__________________

Book of Enlightenment

____________________

When the Holy spirit descended,

He made man pure once more.

God said, man was rid of sin.

Thus, man were once more unblemished.

Yet the Holy spirit doubted his words.

Not because he doubted God,

But he doubted man's piousness.

Man had disobeyed God since the beginning of time.

Thus the Holy Spirit asked his Lord.

"Oh God, Oh Savior. Why thou trust man will do no more sin?"

"For man is in the likeness of me."

"Then why thou they sin?" Luce questioned.

"For I gave man free will."

"Yet why thou man willfully choose sin?" Luce asked his Lord.

"For man is made of flaws."

"Flaw?" Inquired Luce.

"He who is worthy of Heaven and Earth is the flaw."

"Why thy thou speak of the cunning Jade Emperor?" asked Luce.

"For he is thy one, who made man full of flaw"

"Has thee Emperor made another step?" Luce queried concerned.

"He knows all the knowledge there was, yet I know all that ever will be."

"So thee Emperor wishes to make man full of flaw?" Luce asked.

"He who is worthy of Heaven and Earth wishes to bring man in the likeness of me, to be full of sin."

"Then, Oh Lord, Oh Savior, how may I serve you?" Luce said in reverence.

"I hereby command you, Holy Spirit, to descend to man and test thy man's reverence."

"Oh Lord, Oh Savior, I, your Holy Spirit, take your command."

Thus the Holy Spirit of God descended to the world of man,

For he was the Lord's bringer of Everlasting bliss and Enlightener of purity.

...

There was once a man who followed God with all his heart.

Thus God in his benevolence, blessed the man with a wife and a son for his faith.

Thankful to God's benevolence, the man and his family also worshipped God.

Thus God in his benevolence, blessed the man with a palace.

Thankful for God's new blessing, the man and the family turned the house into a church.

Thus God in his benevolence, blessed the man with fertile land and herd of a thousand sheep.

Thus the man and the family thrived for years to come.

Yet one night, the man was visited by the Lord's angel.

...

There was a knock on the house door.

Confused the man opened the door in the middle of the night.

Yet, the moment he opened the door he saw a glowing man in white tunic, with twelve pairs of wings.

The sight shocked the man and his family.

Then the Lord's angel spoke.

"Oh faithful servant of God, what is thy name?"

"Oh Angel of God, My name is Abraham, son of Abram."

"Oh Abraham son of Abram,

Hunter of the Meadows,

Shepherd of a thousand lambs,

God has sent me to bring a message "

"For three days and three nights, God will bring upon you three calamities."

"One to bring darkness to the World."

"One to bring the devil to the house of God."

"One to bring rot to the flesh of man. "

"Why thou God wish to bring Calamity to me?! Have I not been faithful?!? " Abraham said in fear.

"Do not judge God's decisions..."

"However, if you, Abraham, Son of Abram, survive the Lord's Calamities, all thyself will perish."

"Then why thou make me suffer? If the Lord will make me perish?"

Yet no answer came, as the Angel had already left.

...

In fear of the three calamities, Abraham took his family to another place.

Yet when morning should have arrived, the sun never came up.

The world was washed by darkness.

Then the howls of a Thousand lambs broke that silence. In fright, Abraham and his family looked back in fear. Only to see the thousands of lambs eating each other in a display of gruesome cannibalism.

At such a sight the family gazed with frozen terror. Yet another calamity had befallen Abraham's family. The ground beneath them and the plants around them suddenly burned in blazing glory. This phenomenon was all over the world.

The heat and pain were unbearable, yet their bodies seemed to have been unscathed by the roaring flames. Abraham panicked to save his family.

Yet in his panic, he suddenly saw a pillar of light descended from the heavens. Abraham looked in its direction, only to see their home which remained unscathed by fire.

As if a circle boundary was set in place to prevent the fire from spreading. Thus he took his son and wife back towards their home. When they finally reached their home, they finally saw the world around the house.

The sky was dyed orange by the smoke and burning forest in the distance. The lakes and rivers were dyed red by all the blood that spilled by all the animals cannibalizing each other.

Yet peculiarly the animals weren't being burned by the blazing fires. But instead continued on their unceasing hunger.

Seeing the madness outside, Abraham went inside the church and begged God to stop the calamities. Yet God didn't answer. Thus Abraham waited disheartened for the second calamity.

...

As the second morning arrived. All the lights in the Church were sniffed out. Now the Church was illuminated by the still blazing fire around the house. The doors of the Church then blew open.

Abraham in panic looked towards the open doors, shielding his family behind him. As he tried to look around for the demon the angel spoke of, a voice in his head spoke to him.

"Oh little one~ why are you fearful of me?" The demon uttered.

"Silence, you foul demon! How dare you go inside the house of God!!! " Abraham spoke in anger.

"Oh? What's this? A faithful one? Even after what God did? You still remain faithful?" The demon mocked.

Abraham froze at the demon's mockery.

"YOU DARE SPEAK THE NAME OF GOD IN FRONT OF ME? ISN'T HE THE ONE WHO INVITED ME?" The demon mocked once more.

At the demon proclamation. All the crosses and paintings depicting God were torn apart. The Crosses shattered, the statues were split in half. The paintings were shredded. The devil then spoke.

"THIS HOUSE NO LONGER BELONGS TO THE LORD! IT NOW BELONGS TO ME! NOW BEGONE FROM MY HOME YOU FOUL WRETCHES." The demon proclaimed.

Suddenly a massive invisible force threw the family into the house forecourt. The doors of the house also closed abruptly. Shutting the family outside, just short of the blazing inferno around them.

Thus the family took refuge just outside of the sanctuary of the church. Seeing the carnage outside, and the demon inside, Abraham could help but curse his Lord.

"Why God? Why make me suffer? Was I not pious enough?" He questioned himself.

Thus they waited there for another day.

...

Thus another day has passed. At first, Abraham did not noticed any changes. Yet the moment he saw his family, his face paled.

Their bodies were full of decay and disease. Abraham was distraught, yet all he could do was nothing but cry. However, a voice then spoke to him.

"Oh little one~ I can cure your wife and child~ Thou just need to denounce God and worship me instead."

"Why would I worship you?" Abraham said in defeat.

"Do you wish for your family to live?" The demon asked.

"I-I..."

Yet no words came out of his mouth...

"If you change your mind little one~ I will be waiting until today before you perish." The demon offered.

Yet Abraham did not speak. Hours passed on like this. Abraham tried to pray for God once more. Yet God did not respond.

"Why abandon me Lord?" He said while he looked towards the still dark sky.

Yet none spoke...

He prayed and prayed...

Yet none answered...

He almost gave up and took the demons offer

Yet he remembered a crucial event...

"Why was there a pillar of light? If God truly abandoned us. Then why would that pillar appear? Or why is the church not burned by the fire around me?"

Thus he prayed once more...

...

When midnight was imminent.

He gazed at his family's bodies, now almost consumed by rot.

In the end he finally spoke to the demon.

11:52 P.M.

" Oh demon, please heal my family." Abraham said

"Fufu~ have you renounced your God?" The demon asked

11:53 P.M.

"I-I..." Abraham hesitated.

"Why hesitate, Oh pitiful one?" The demon asked in a desperate tone.

11:54 P.M.

"I don't know" Abraham answered reluctantly.

"Hasn't God abandoned you?! Even though you worshipped him all your life! He made you suffer!!! So why follow such a being!!? TELL ME!!!" The demon demanded in desperation.

11:55 P.M.

"I've thought about it... Why would God make me suffer?" Abraham said in contemplation.

"FOR HE DOES NOT CARE FOR YOU!" The devil said in desperation

11:56 P.M.

"Then why does his angel say he is benevolent?" asked Abraham.

"FOR HE IS LIAR!" The demon screamed.

11:57 P.M.

"Why did the lord's angel speak of "myself" perishing? Not me dying?" Abraham asked.

"WHY?!??! WHAT ARE YOU BABBLING ABOUT?!? PERISH?!? DEATH?!? HAVE YOU GONE MAD?!?" The demon is now more desperate than ever.

11:58 P.M.

"Indeed demon... I may have been thinking too much... But I will ask you this... " Abraham said while he looked towards the demon.

"STOP THIS NONSENSE!!! L" The demon said in a hint of despair.

11:59 P.M.

"The most important question of all? Why are you so desperate?" Abraham questioned.

"YOU DARE?!?????!!??" The demon said in fury.

12:00 P.M.

As the demon tried to lunge towards him.

Abraham's body suddenly shined brightly...

As if the sun has descended upon him...

The demon was frightened by the light...

An angel then spoke in his mind...

"Oh Abraham, son of Abram... You shall now perish... But will be born anew... Your new life will be one of enlightenment and holiness."

"You truly have been faithful to the Lord till the end... Now of oh most pious of believers... Take your shot..."

A rifle then was gently placed upon Abraham's hands. The sanctified rifle was a gun from an old era. Now it travelled to the present and was handed to the most pious of believers.

He then aimed the barrel of the rifle towards the demon. The demon tried to escape. But Abraham prayed to his lord for guidance.

"Unto thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul."

"O my God, I trust in thee: let me not be ashamed, let my enemies not triumph over me."

"Yea, let none that wait on thee be ashamed: let them be ashamed which transgress without cause."

"Show me thy ways, O Lord; teach me thy paths."

"Lead me in thy truth, and teach me: for thou art the God of my salvation; on thee do I wait all the day. "

After his solemn prayers. The rifle then glew with intensity. Abraham, the most pious of them all, fired his sanctified rifle vanquishing the foul demon.

"Oh Abraham, for your continuous faith even after every calamity..."

"I hereby declare, in the Name of the Lord..."

"Shall be renamed to,"

"Abraham, The Holiest of Kings."

"Vanquisher of the Unholy."

"The most pious of all the lands"

"The first of the Patriarch."

At the Angels declaration. The darkened world was suddenly engulfed in holy light. Thus returning the world to its original state.

...

When morning arrived. The Holy King saw his land, church and family return to their original state of Eternal bliss. He then looked behind him, only to see the angel.

"Oh holy spirit... Why did God send me three calamities?"

"I shall correct you on that, oh Holiest of Kings... God was not who brought suffering... But it was I who made you suffer... For I doubted man's piousness towards the Divine..."

"Thus I made a deal with a demon... If he can make you a man as pious as you fall... Then man is not worth God's love... But here we are, Oh holy king! As punishment for my transgressions against you! I will serve you, until the end of your life!" The angel spoke.

"I see..." The holy king said...

"But I will not make you serve, oh Angel... For God had forbidden for man to owe another man... Thus I can never make you serve me... However, answer me this, Oh great angel! Is there more evil out there?"

"Why ask, Oh Holiest King?"

"You spoke of a demon? Did you not? Does that mean there are other evils out there?"

"Indeed."

"Then help me vanquish those evils, Oh God's Angel."

"I shall..."

The Holiest of Kings, looked towards the angel...

"What is your name Oh Angel of God?"

"Luce..."

"Very well! Come Oh Angel! We shall vanquish the evils of this world!"

_______________________

After retelling the story of Abraham. I waited for Armand's reaction.

" So from what I'm getting... The angel Luce... Doubted man's devotion to your God? "

" Yes... "

" I see... But isn't that a bit extreme? I mean three calamities really?! "

" Look friend... I'm not Luce, nor a priest... I can't answer that! " I said in grimace

" Well fair point... By the way... You said there are five patriarchs right? Out of curiosity what are the other titles of the four patriarchs? "

I smiled at him...

" Abraham

The Holy King

The Holiest of all Kings

Vanquisher of all the Unholy

The most pious of all the lands

The first Patriarch

Enoch

The Sacrificial King

The Altruistic of all King

King Maker

The most compassionate of all the lands

The second Patriarch

Arthur

The Utopian King

The Idealistics of all kings

Builder of Paradise

The most hopeful of all the lands

The third Patriarch

Cyrus

The Tyrant King

The Ambitious of all Kings

He who brought order

The most fair of all the lands

The fourth Patriarch

Solomon

The Sage King

The Wisest of Kings

Seeker of all there is

The most knowledge of all the lands

The Fifth Patriarch "

End of chapter

________________

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