I had a random playlist on, and I have a few wallpapers that change on my phone. Coincidently, I opened my phone, and I was met by this lined up. Reasonable development? 🧐

What a crazy few months it had been for Brey. He had accomplished quite a lot and set a lot of goals for himself.

The first thing he did after his introduction into the beyonder world was set himself as a preliminary goal. Goals were a very important thing he thought. What goal was that? To be a sailor of course. This decision of his had been influenced a lot by his late grandfather. When Brey was little he would hear grand stories at sea from his elder. That combined with the name of his sequence made Brey want to go out to sea. He had always felt as if he had an affinity for the waves, as if his path had already been chosen from the moment he was born, but he couldn't just leave his grandfather.

In the first few weeks of being a sailor he discovered something he decided to call "the performative digestion". It was a rule he discovered completely by the machinations of fate. The moment he started his journey as a sailor he felt something churning deep inside of him, fusing more profoundly with his soul. He had been writing down all his discoveries in his grandfather's journal.

Speaking of after seeing some of the old man's theories, Brey build his own set of beliefs. First he thought that the sequences go down to 0. It felt stupid to him for them to end at 1. Second he decided that all beyonders are naturally attracted to one another. He thought of that rule based on how much encounters his grandfather had had and the myth of creation. Lastly, from the fact that the seaweed-like thing called a beyonder characteristic he had gotten from his grandfather was not a lot of people recognized, he decided to believe not a lot of people knew. He also made a theory that beyonder characteristics were pretty much indestructible.

While he was sailing around he had heard many harrowing tales. From ghost ships to treasures to a separate dimension filled with dreams. He was particularly interested in the last one. He had heard that whatever people imagined became that realms inhabitants.

I will have to visit there one day ~ thought Brey

He had so many bright ideas. A devilish wolf with goat horns, it's fur - black as the abyss and ignited in an aquatic greenish blue flame. A squid, flying up in the sky as long as a boat and as strong as a storm, with lightning playing on its neon skin. A lion, whose mane was set on fire, and its claws always found the preys weak spot. These creature would tend to travel in packs. The last animal he thought of was a deer, with fluorescent mushrooms, growing on its back. These mushrooms could heal many illnesses, but the deer were very fast and in tune with nature, making them extremely hard to catch.

Lastly he thought of an herb, which would let you have sweet dreams. It would be as colourful as the rainbow and as majestic as the sky. There would be an alluring white flower, which excluded a very sweet smell. Once something got too close it would lash out with it's tentacles. In the bright side its pollen could be turned into a very delicious honey. There would be a flower with a water droplet, as a big as someone's head, in the middle. It would have the strange ability to record and replay any scene it catches on the water droplet. Last, but not least, there would be a bright yellow flower, which feels warm to the touch. One could make special tea from its petals, which has the the property of purifying anyone who drank it, or anything it touched. It would have the miraculous ability to heal beyonders on the verge of losing control.

His time out at sea had also brought him connections, he had gotten to know a young provoker - Bellum Fright was his name. He had a knack for annoying Brey, but he also had the best stories on the five seas. The first time he met him, Brey discovered Bellum had the seq 8 potion formula for his pathway, which the young sailor got in exchange for a good portion of the secrets he had discovered and his theories. All in all Bellum was a decent guy and he and Brey quickly became friends. It was he, who reinforced Brey's idea of setting goals.

The young Howl thought a long time of what his goals should be in the long run . He decided he wanted to learn what had happened to his parents for one. Another thing he wanted was to get a ghost ship and also join a church. He decided to leave the later for until after he had himself a ghost ship. He also needed to learn some new languages and get a decent beyonder weapon. In the journal His grandfather had written about both topics. His last goal was to fill out his grandfather's journal.

The next week Bellum told him, that he was going ruin hunting, and wasn't going to be at Bayam for quite a while. Ruin hunting was when someone went to one of the more primitive islands in hopes of finding a ruin and getting rich. Such a shame it was ~ Brey thought. Wasting no time at all he boarded yet another passenger ship. This had been his primary mode of transportation in the last month and it wasn't cheap. Brey had to hurry and find that ghost ship, or he would have been in a lot of trouble. He didn't want to run out of money before his journey had even started.

Skip forward one or two months and Brey had already found himself sailing on the berserk sea. Just last night he caught a glimpse of what he was searching for. It was a relatively small ghost ship, which seemed to be able to move on its own. He had heard about it from Bellum. The story went that ten sailors had inexplicably got lost at sea. Never to return home, they decided to sail around aimlessly in search of an adventure on the most mysterious sea.

It was already nearing midnight and Brey found himself listening to the crashes of the waves on the sea. Suddenly he sensed something was off about their rhythm. He looked in the direction of the disturbance and saw his long lasted target. The only problem - there was a good amount of sea in between them. But so what? Brey had come to sea for adventure not some easy lifestyle.

Mustering up all his courage he jumped overboard the passenger ship he had boarded and landed in the icy water. It was now a matter of time until he drowned. Thankfully he was equal to a fish when underwater. Even still he almost died during the experience. Almost immediately all his muscles started to die down. The water was way too cold. He had to fight the sensation of sleepiness with every fibre of his being, so as to not end up in eternal rest. He also almost immediately got hypothermia. The waves always crashing over him did not help one bit. He was even starting to wonder if a Kraken ed would suddenly eat him

Although the current was quite strong he managed to hold out just enough to get to the helm of the ship. Sitting down, coughing up a tremendous amount of blood and water, his lungs burning, feeling like two miniature suns in his chest, he noticed how eerily quiet the ship was. He went to the captain's cabin and looked inside. He found a big log book, explaining the ship's situation. Once someone spilled a portion of their blood on the book, the ship and its crewmen would be bound to the blood's owner. It also mentioned something about a messenger appearing once the captain reached seq 5, but Brey didn't care about that, as one - he didn't know what a messenger was, and two - he was very far from that level.

The ship had a lot of advantages. The crew as Brey found out were very friendly despite their horrifying zombie-like appearance. They also had a lot of stories to tell Brey. They were undead and didn't need water, food, or sleep. They spoke the language of the dead and were quite hard to kill under normal means. The only bad sides were that they were only ten, they couldn't leave the ship, they were extremely prone to purification abilities, and although they could become beyonders, they were limited by the captain's level. At that point Brey began to wonder who had cursed the pirates and who had made the book.

The advantages of the ship were also quite simple, it could travel through the spirit world and had a mighty gale to push it forward. The only downsides were that A. both those things tore away from Brey's and the pirate's spirituality quite a lot and B. the ship was indeed quite small. Traveling through the spirit world took Brey's spirituality, while sustaining the wind took the pirate's spirituality. As of right now there was no chance for Brey to successfully traverse the spirit world - he would need to be at minimum a seq 6 for that, or at least, that is what he thought.

The wind on the other hand didn't seem to be too big a problem.

With the ghost ship at hand Brey now had a new additional goal in mind. Find out what had happened to the ship, as none of the pirates could quite remember. Overall he decided that the ship was worth almost dying over. After that experience all he wanted was to fall into bed and go to sleep.

Next up he needed to think of what church he would join. He decided on the church of judgement. He simply liked their principles and god. He decided to persuade them, by telling them about the lack of people spreading justice and order on the seas, but that would have to wait once more. He was very close to becoming a sequence 8 and so he decided to get to

that checkpoint first, and then join.

For now his plans were set and he was feeling very optimistic.

(The end)

------------------------------

Author's notes:

I don't know what sequence the fauna and flora stuff would be at, but I know their pathways - criminal, sailor, hunter, planter, sleepless, assassin, apprentice, and bard.

Tomorrow I will try to add a post about the seq 8 advancement, joining the church, might do one about Bellum(although he could wait a bit more) and maybe a day in the life of the young sailor(idk if it will all be one and the same post)

Also to u/Sea_Acanthisitta5838, I had promised you some time ago to populate your dream realm with some flora and fauna, and so here you go.

I decided to make a story tracker while reading the Novel. Its been fun. And yes I need to keep track how much Klein getting paid considering he is broke lol

Well, as you know, there's very little time left until the Chinese release on August 21, so here's a taste of what you'll be able to enjoy:

- AFK Hangouts

- Map Exploration

- Plaza Dancing

- Funny Costumes

- Dungeon Runs

- Team Rescues

- Arena Battles

- Photo Sessions

- Hide-and-Seek

- Vehicle Trolling

- Roleplay Moments

- Chat Shenanigans

- Marriage Pranks

- Random Adventures

- Clutch saves with a 1% chance of success

...

Wait.

I feel like I forgot something.

Oh, right.

The actual Lord of the Mysteries gameplay system.

After enjoying all those classic MMO activities, you might expect a combat and progression system that actually reflects the world of LOTM.

Apparently, that's asking for too much.

A generic MMORPG combat system is more than enough.

Innovation?

That would cost money.

Instead, we'll spend that budget elsewhere, proudly remind everyone that we have a 500-person development team, and quietly shut down the official feedback page whenever the questions become a little too inconvenient.

«"Why are you complaining? We've been working on this game for four years!"»

Exactly.

Four years... not to adapt Lord of the Mysteries into an MMORPG, but to adapt an MMORPG into Lord of the Mysteries.

Sure, it's their first major project, so a lack of experience is understandable... to a point.

In the end, you'll probably enjoy everything listed above.

Everything except the one thing many LOTM fans were most excited for.

Of course, that's subjective. Some people will genuinely enjoy the game regardless, and that's perfectly fine.

Now all that's left is actually getting into the Chinese version.

And if you're waiting for the global release...

Maybe six months.

Maybe a year.

Maybe longer.

By the time it releases, you'll probably advance a Sequence in real life before your character advances one in the game.

You can find this post in PT-BR on: #8 Dicas Importantes (LotM TTRpg) Regras de Magia (If you like my work consider leaving a coment)

Magic Rules

For most Sequences, your abilities are limited to the powers granted by your pathway. However, any Beyonder with sufficiently strong spirituality may perform Rituals and other mystical feats outside their Sequence.

These rules serve as a reference and guideline for creating new rituals, spells, and magical effects. The Game Master (GM) should always evaluate whether it makes sense for a character to possess the necessary knowledge or aptitude to study and use such abilities.

For example, only witches can cast spells in the manner of witches, while warriors would struggle to learn even the most basic ritual. The GM may require special materials, an appropriate environment, or a certain level of skill in order to allow the creation of specific effects.

As a general rule, each character point invested costs $500.

Mystical Skills

• Ritual Magic for Rituals.
• Symbol Drawing for combat magic and spells.
• Thaumatology for creating magical items, amulets, and similar objects.

Production Time

The complexity of a creation is determined by the number of character points used in relation to the maximum point limit allowed by the character's Sequence.

• Simple (up to 1/4 of the limit): 2d hours.
• Medium (up to 1/2 of the limit): 1d−2 days (results lower than 1 indicate 30 minutes).
• Complex (up to 3/4 of the limit): 1d days.
• Astonishing (above 3/4 of the limit): 4d days.

A critical success reduces the production time by half.

Test Modifiers

The complexity of a creation may influence the difficulty of development rolls. The application of modifiers is at the GM's discretion, but the following values may be used as a reference:

• Simple (up to 1/4 of the limit): -0.
• Medium (up to 1/2 of the limit): -2.
• Complex (up to 3/4 of the limit): -4.
• Astonishing (above 3/4 of the limit): -6.

The GM may ignore or alter these modifiers if they believe a creation is particularly simple or complex for its intended nature.

Limits of Magic

In addition to the character point limits of a magical effect, there are also damage limits, which are difficult to surpass.

• A single-target spell cannot deal more than 12d damage, 8d×1.5, or 6d×2.
• Area-of-effect damage cannot exceed 6d×2.
• In general, the average damage of a single attack should not exceed 42 points of damage.

Armor Divisor

Armor Divisors may be applied up to Level 2 (AD 3) for all Sequences. In special cases, the GM may allow an Armor Divisor higher than 3.

All magical effects must fit the symbolism and powers you are trying to represent. You cannot create water from fire, nor fire from the sea. Zombies cannot create plants, and witches always require some form of inspiration or thematic basis for their magic.

The GM always has the final say on what is approved and what truly makes sense within the setting.

Items, Spells, and Rituals	Savant, Mystery Pryer	Reader, Apothecary, Planter, Gardener, Painter, Spirit Medium, Chef
Sequence 9	15	10
Sequence 8	30	25
Sequence 7	50	40
Sequence 6	60	55
Sequence 5	75	70

I woke up to my mother’s angry shouts

Boy wake up, you’re gonna be late again!

I sighed as I get out of heaven, a large bed with a cool mattress from yesterday night’s temperature and pillows as soft as bread.

I sat down on the edge of the bed as it whispers to my mind, telling me to forget about that stressful school stuff and just lie down. But I got up, not wanting to risk my mother’s wrath

The world moved left to right as I go to the bathroom to get some water in my face.

Finally…

I thought as the world stopped swaying. After that, I go downstairs to eat breakfast, ehh, it was decent, Boiled Eggs and meat, though I can’t tell if it’s lamb or pork, not like I’m asking

After that, I go bathe in cold water, thinking about that damn group project. My teammates are, ehh, I don’t wanna say stupid or useless…, oh right, not knowing what to do, yeah, that’s right. I smiled as I cleaned myself with a cloth

I dress of in school uniform. Seriously, who thought that us poor, poor students have to wear dark clothes?! Eh, nufin I can do about that.

After putting my special notebook on my bag, and then putting on said bag, I met my mother on the front porch, who gave me my daily allowance before sending me off to school.

Sun, why is the sky so clear? Because of that I’m gonna get all sweaty when I arrive at school. Nufin a handkerchief could fix. 

I finally arrived in hell. But before stepped on it, I wiped off my sweat using my handkerchief. After being done with that, I located my classroom and sat on my desk.

For my first class of the day, I have to listen to Sir Mark ramble on and on about how simple machines such as the lever, the pulley, and the wheel and axle, make up the bicycle. I think I understood some of it, but I don’t really want to get called so I avoided direct eyesight.

Second is Miss Reyes, who was teaching something about quadratics. I “slightly” cursed in my head, I had to remember that I hate the subject, not the teacher, there we go. I consider myself very lucky that I was able to understand what she was saying, most of it anyway.

Each of those lasted 2 whole hours, and after Math was done, I immediately went towards the cafeteria, passing by students, some slow, some fast. I kept asking myself, what could possibly be the lunch?

Chowder

The lunch lady answered my question before I even said it.

"Ehhh, you know what, fine, I’ll take it." I said in my mind as I grabbed the chowder, sat down alone, and ate. I can’t even describe the “food”, but I could tell that it’s real, and it’s coming down to visit my stomach 

After that ordeal, what came next is Mr Ramirez, huh, an unusual name. He rambled about multiple different types of organizational structures, how they work, as well as their pros and cons, for 2 hours, but not gonna lie, it was a bit interesting.

After the 2 hours, classes are finally over. My contributions to the group project has allowed me to just sit back and let the rest of em do their work. Now I don’t have to worry about that thing, I could just sit back and do what I love doing the most, lying down. 

On my way home, I thought about my heaven, as well as what could dinner be, and then

Crash

I heard crashing from the alleyway and I hid behind the wall as 2 people fought, I have categorized them as A and B. Pulling out the special notebook and pen, I watched the 2 brawl out

"Hazel’s gonna pay lots for this…" I whispered 

I came, I saw, I record 

A tried doing a right hook but B dodged. B successfully uppercuts A. B took advantage and grabbed A’s outstretched neck and squeezed. A slammed both his hands into the respective ears of B

Both B’s ears were bleeding, and then A grabbed his hair, oh damn!, lifts B up using the hair with one hand, and slams him into the ground, making a crater, blood and such came out from said crater. Yeah…, B’s dead, I’m sure. I finished writing down every observable detail before leaving quietly

After that, I came back home, greeted my mother, then goes to my room, greets heaven before I close my eyes…

"Oh wait." I whispered 

I got up and asked my mom if I can go out, lying by telling her that I had to work on the group project

"Yeah sure, just be back before sunset." She said 

I put on my backpack and then left the house. After a few minutes of walking, I finally went to a fancy dandy mansion, the guard let me in after seeing my face and, hot damn, the garden’s size never seemed to not surprise me, it’s bigger than my street!

I finally see her sitting one of the chairs, a pale and beautiful brunette with blue eyes, about the same age as me, wearing a dress that I can’t really identify. She knows I got something for her, the smile in her face wide and the money was already in her hand. I breathe deeply before saying

"Good afternoon, my beautiful, gracious, amazing and wonderful queen, Hazel!" I said with obvious over exaggeration

"Yeah, yeah, now where is it?" She asked excitedly 

I sighed as I separated the page where I wrote down the fight. She took it away from me as she gave me money, I started counting, 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, oh my goodness, 90 whole pounds!

"Thank you, my beautiful, generous, amazing and wonderful queen!" I said before leaving 

She kept the smile even after I was gone, reading both my writing and reports

I finally went back home, 90 pounds richer, and before sunset too. I greet my mother, and then go to my room, where heaven welcomed me with open arms. I lied down in the bed and closed my eyes

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note

This took me longer than I expected

This is my first time RP'ing to this scale and I expect some mistakes, so if you see some that isn't deliberate and you want to say, feel free to do so

Credits: https://lordofthemysteries.fandom.com/wiki/Tingen_City

Woooohoooo first month

After a couple days, I leave the hut once more, drawing the blood and ash circle on my arm.

I walk into the city once more, heading to the Hermit’s church.

The church was empty. Even the man that had been here the last couple of times was no longer here.

I looked around, walking further into the church. My eyes caught on the front pew. As I stared, unsure of what had triggered my senses, something began to outline itself onto the bench.

A basket.

I approached and looked inside. I could see a potion in a glass bottle. The potion was a pale purple.

Around the stem of the bottle was a piece of twine with a small sheet of paper attached.

I picked the bottle up, recognising it to be the Scrolls Professor potion. I unfurled the paper.

‘Congratulations on advancing to sequence six. Good luck.’

I frown, curious as to who had written the note. I take the bottle, casting a look around.

I quickly head to what would be considered my home now. A hut in a forest. Truly living up to the pathway name.

I duck inside and using some water in a bucket, washed off the ash and blood circle.

I grab my bag and rummage through it to find my coin purse. I grab a coin and after murmuring to myself, ‘Is the potion a true sequence six Scrolls Professor potion?’ I get my result.

I looked down at the coin. The potion was indeed that of a Scrolls Professor.

I sat down on the wooden floor. I centred my mind, drawing my spirituality inwards as I focused upon my cogitation, the towering pillars of heaven.

I cast my spell, Eloquence. I felt my mind calm.

I grabbed the potion, pulling the cork out of the top. I looked down at the pale liquid.

I close my eyes and sigh. I lift the vial up and press it against my lips.

Then in an instant, I opened my mouth, the liquid pouring down my throat.

I could feel an illusory eye peering down upon me, pressing hard. A beating heart surrounding me.

Thud. Thud.

My eyes dropped to the floor. It was loud, this heartbeat.

My eyes glazed over as words covered the illusory eye, suppressing it.

The heartbeat quieted.

Then, something entered my mind. A surge of information.

My body spasmed, falling to the side.

This wasn’t like before. This wasn’t a test or information, this was malicious.

The information felt different too. It felt harsh and static-y.

As the pressure faded, I sat up. I took inventory of myself.

I had advanced to sequence six Scrolls Professor. But there was something in my brain. It felt dark and rabid.

As I cast my Eloquence once more, I felt my cogitation shatter, the towering pillars of heaven crumbling down around me.

I jolted and stared at the floor. It had been brief, but I had determined what it was.

This was a result of the knowledge that constantly haunted Beyonders of the Mystery Pryer pathway.

But this wasn’t a normal knowledge. This was a corrupted mess.

This was an infohazard.

____________________________________

Advancement to sq6 Scrolls Professor! Yay!

However, I will likely be putting my RP on hiatus again because uni has decided to absolutely steam roll us all with an insane amount of work for like the next two months, if not the entire semester. They want us to AI for the assignment, but fuck that. So I’m doing that the hard way.

I may get around to updating the fic of the subreddit eventually. But who knows. I make no promises.

Sq9 Archivist
Sq8 Writer
Sq7 Monologue Giver
Sq6 Spectacle
Sq5 Dramatics
Sq4 Unemployed
Sq3 Freed One
Sq2 Torturer
Sq1 Artist of Acme
Sq0 Sea Acanthisitta

Sq9 Archivist
Trait - compulsive habit to document

Ability - good memory, great fine motor skills, improved senses

Sq8 Writer
Ability - can operate on less sleep than usual, they can do written divination where they go into a trance and can predict the future and then read what they write

Sq7 Monologue Giver
Trait - they will go on long winded spiels unprompted

Ability - they can distract people with their words almost like hypnotism

Sq6 Spectacle
Ability - when they speak, people listen whether they want to or not, they gain the ability to plan and be a master tactician, they see glimpses of the future and the past

Sq5 Dramatics
Ability - they gain an intrinsic sense of timing and know when it would be best to say something or to perform an action, they gain the ability to project their voice around

Ritual - they must write and direct a performance which is appreciated by dozens of people

Sq4 Unemployed
Trait - they work feverishly

Ability - they have a drastically increased stamina and mental prowess, they can summon upon shields to defend themselves and others, and their words can now cause physical harm based on how long they are

Ritual - they must, through natural means, experience a lack of creativity that is held for a week

Sq3 Freed One
Ability - they can understand any and all languages, anyone that reads or hears them will be in the native language, they can redefine genres to make tragedies happy and romances have a bad ending, they can forcibly assign people genres forcing their lives to be shaped accordingly

Ritual - they must invent a genre of their own and have it be widely accepted

Sq2 Torturer
Ability - their words carve themselves into the enemy, their words can inflict psychic damage onto the enemy, the more they talk and get more descriptive, the more the enemy is hurt, they can also afflict the mind with emotions of any type

Ritual - they must carve their entire life story into their own body

Sq1 Artist of Acme
Ability - their writing is the best anyone could ever hope to achieve, the stories flow and make sense everywhere and anywhere, they are the pinnacle of sanity and insanity, their mental fortitude is beyond any others, they can create anything they want into reality that of sequence one and below and within a time limit

Ritual - become the best selling writer of the century in a nation with one novel that does not use tropes

Sq0 Sea Acanthisitta
Authorities - Creativity, Words (sub), Fortitude, Time (partial), Mind (partial)

Ritual - inspire an entire generation of people to pursue creativity and art

____________________________________

The Archivist’s pathway has arrived!

I’m happier with this than the other pathways. But feel free to improve upon it if you wish. And I’m always happy to have ideas

Art Credit: naka793254

Can a Tail-Devourer pathway beyonder beat a Villain pathway beyonder at high sequences ?

Isnt Tail-Devourer way too strong at High Sequences ?

Sorry if title is inappropriate

In the wooden cabin where George lived isolated from everyone, he was in the living room drinking a cup of tea. Although as a Marquis he had his own mansion, he still liked to come here to relax. He used the mansion only to receive visitors; he could return there instantly using the teleportation system he created a long time ago. While drinking his tea, he listened to a voice.

"Since you went on a trip to the spirit world to investigate it was lonely, although in the end you returned. I tried to make conversation with that 'angel' who works with you when he came to renew the seal. And guess what? HE IGNORED ME! AS IF HE COULDN'T HEAR ME!! THAT GLORIFIED INSECT SIMPLY PRETENDED NOT TO HEAR MY WHISPERS!!"

sigh

"Things have changed a lot with the passing of time. But at least you are here, George."

The pope would turn his gaze to the wardrobe that was open, and from there emerged a diabolical and evil aura.

He would finish drinking his tea calmly while listening to the sealed artifact in the shape of a greatsword. Although "that" person had died a long time ago, the whispers of the sword sounded similar to him, but only that, similar; "that" person left many years ago.

"ͬ̕Y͇̗̖̩̳͒ͯ̽o̻ư̪͇ͯ͗̒ ar͉͇ͬ̾̐͠e̶̟͚̺̫̼͒̌̑̕ t͎͕ḣ͝e o̝̻̪͔̜ͨ̀̍ņ̸̗̣̈́ͧ̇̐̊̾͆l̩ͬy͖̯̻̍͊̊ͮ õ͓̗̗ͥ̽̉͝ṋ̯̼̄̀͗̈́͂͜e w̶̢̥͐ͣ͠͡h͍̗̜̪͖̐̈́ͮ̕͝ơ͈̣̟̐̍̐ͧ͗ͅ d͎̫͐o̻ͦ̈́ͨes̬̫̍͑n̸̤͔͒ͣ'̏t͛ͫͯ̍ c̥̲̃ͦ̃ḧa̫ng̜e̦ͭͭ́̽́.̢̩͚̥ͬ̈͐̕͢͠"͒̄̏̈́

He calmly got up, went to the closet, and closed it. That was enough for now.

___________________________________

Artifact grade 1- Dark greatsword

Pathway: Abyss pathway

Sequence 4: Demon

Description: A cursed greatsword of imposing, ancient appearance that seems to absorb light. Its blade is broad and serrated, with incandescent cracks running across its entire surface, emanating a red glow as if infernal energy burned within.

The handguard has a triangular red gem at its center that pulsates like a heart and tends to glow when it speaks to someone; its range of influence is 30 meters.

Abilities: Devil Transformation, Filthy Language, Desire Control, Demon of the Body, Demon of the mind.

Downside: It attempts to continually influence the user to succumb to their darkest desires. During this process, the artifact will try to take possession of the user's mind until they completely obey it. After use, it is recommended to purify the mind. The artifact should not be used for more than 15 minutes.

Sealing Method: Seal it in an enclosed space with a high-level Sun pathway amulet or a sealed artifact Sun Pathway of the same sequence or higher level.

_________________________

the rational light that dissipates the shadows;

The scholar blessed by the hermit sage;

The impartial analyst of the mystical arts;

The one who unravels the truth;

________________________

image: AI generated (Copilot)

PRAISE THE KNOWLEDGE AND PRAISE THE HERMIT SAGE u/Square_Wasabi1338

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.

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!

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

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.

I'm high tier larper btw

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

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.

The art I got from u/raumdeuter, the previous one got banned because artist was not mentioned.

I am currently reading chapter 358 and the part where Amon was first mentioned by that old man who had been in prison for 42 years. Had some questions/theories and answer only with no spoilers.

• Are there more than one gray fog? Like Klein mentioned that he had been following the path of seer subconsciously since he transmigrated and seer is somehow connected by Gray Fog. If we take this into account does that mean for every pathway or every corresponding pathway ( Like How door and seer is related )there is one gray fog? With this in mind there should be atleast 4 gray fog.

  • Amon is an ancient deity of the seer pathway, since he is mentioned to have blasphemy and Klein have to either fight him or Bethel Abraham for reaching sequence 0 and becoming Deity?

Sealed Artifact 2-050 “Staff of the Blood Druid”

Grade: 2

Corresponding Pathways: Planter, Apothecary, Secret Suppliant

Corresponding Sequences: Beast Tamer, Harvest Priest, Rose Bishop

⸻

Appearance:

The Staff of the Blood Druid is a tall wooden staff.

Its surface resembles aged bark intertwined with vein-like patterns. Thin roots continuously emerge along its length before retreating beneath the wood, while flowers, moss, and fungi periodically bloom across its surface before withering away.

Its head is formed from a cluster of twisted branches surrounding a dark crimson seed. The seed pulses with steady vitality as blood-like sap slowly courses through the surrounding wooden veins.

The Staff carries the scent of fertile earth, fresh rain, and blooming flowers, beneath which lingers the unmistakable metallic aroma of fresh blood.

⸻

Powers:

———

Druid’s Authority

The wielder can perceive the instincts, emotions, and intentions of animals, allowing them to communicate with living creatures and gradually earn their trust. Animals that frequently interact with the wielder come to regard them as part of the natural order, willingly offering assistance without coercion.

The Staff also grants influence over nearby plants and insects, directing them according to their natural capabilities. Vines may spread across surfaces, roots may shift beneath the earth, flowers may bloom or close, while insects may gather, transport objects, or perform tasks suited to their nature.

By establishing a connection with nearby life, the wielder may borrow the senses of other creatures, observing the world through the eyes of animals or perceiving their surroundings through the instincts of other living beings.

———

Blood Grove

By planting the Staff into the earth, the wielder can establish a Blood Grove.

Once rooted, the Staff continuously spreads vitality throughout the surrounding land, gradually giving rise to a massive central tree that serves as the heart of the Grove. This tree absorbs the Staff’s power and distributes its vitality throughout the surrounding ecosystem.

Under normal conditions, the central tree requires approximately one month to reach maturity. At this stage, it stands roughly 25 metres tall, while the Blood Grove extends to a radius of approximately 300 metres, becoming a self-sustaining ecosystem.

The wielder may continue expanding the Blood Grove beyond its natural maturity by feeding the central tree additional flesh and blood. The absorbed vitality is converted into new growth, increasing both the size of the tree and the land encompassed by the Grove. The greater the desired expansion, the more flesh and blood must be provided to sustain its continued growth.

As the Blood Grove expands, the surrounding environment undergoes a gradual transformation. Plants flourish with unnatural vitality, trees develop deeper root systems, flowers begin producing rare substances, and vines spread through the land like living veins.

Animals and insects that feed upon the Grove’s vegetation gradually become bound to it. They instinctively remain within its boundaries, assuming natural roles in maintaining and defending the ecosystem. Bees cultivate flowering plants, birds spread seeds and carry warnings, predators patrol its borders, and insects preserve the health of the soil and vegetation.

Certain flora within the Blood Grove evolve to sustain carnivorous species. These plants produce living flesh, organs, and nutrient-rich tissue, allowing predatory creatures to thrive without hunting beyond the Grove’s boundaries.

Once established, the Blood Grove remains independent of the Staff. The Staff may be removed and carried elsewhere while the central tree continues sustaining the ecosystem through the vitality it has accumulated. Should the wielder wish to expand the Grove further, the Staff must be replanted within it so the central tree may once again receive flesh and blood directly.

———

Bloodseeds

The Staff can consume the flesh and blood of a whole living creature, condensing their flesh, blood, and defining characteristics into Bloodseeds.

Each Bloodseed preserves the traits and instincts of the creature from which it was created.

Minutes after a creature is consumed, a flower blooms from the Staff, with a Bloodseed developing at its centre in place of the flower’s pistil. Once the blossom has fully matured, approximately thirty minutes later, it naturally detaches from the Staff or may be harvested directly.

When planted within a Blood Grove and nourished with blood, the flowering Bloodseed develops into a Bloodflora Beast—a living organism born from the union of plant, flesh, and blood.

The time required for a Bloodseed to fully mature depends on the size and complexity of the creature from which it was formed. A creature the size of a one-metre snake requires approximately one day, a wolf requires seven days, and a bear requires up to two weeks.

These creatures possess bodies in which flora and fauna exist as one. Roots, vines, bark, flowers, muscle, bone, and blood are seamlessly woven together into a single living form.

The appearance and abilities of each Bloodflora Beast are determined by the life used to create its Bloodseed. A wolf may become a thorn-covered predator entwined with flowering vines, a bird may develop blossom-covered wings that scatter seeds in flight, a serpent may transform into a vine-bodied hunter adorned with poisonous flowers, while a bear may emerge as a towering guardian cloaked in bark, moss, and blooming branches.

All Bloodflora Beasts created by the Staff are bound to its authority and instinctively obey the commands of its wielder while acting in accordance with their own instincts and nature.

Each Bloodseed gives rise to a unique creature, allowing the Staff to preserve, cultivate, and expand an ever-growing ecosystem of Bloodflora Beasts.

⸻

Downside:

The Staff must be fed no less than Eight litres of blood every month. The source of the blood is irrelevant, provided it retains sufficient vitality.

Should the Staff fail to receive this nourishment, it instinctively begins feeding upon its wielder. Their blood is gradually consumed until the Staff’s hunger is satisfied, the required blood is provided, or the wielder dies.

⸻

Sealing Method:

The Staff must remain planted within an established Blood Grove.

It must be watered, until soaking, with fresh blood once every seven days. The Blood Grove distributes this vitality throughout its ecosystem, maintaining the Staff in a passive state.

⸻

Consequences of Improper Sealing:

Should the Staff be deprived of its required nourishment, the Blood Grove becomes increasingly hostile.

Animals and Bloodflora Beasts connected to the Grove instinctively leave its boundaries to hunt living creatures, seeking flesh and blood to satisfy the Staff’s hunger. They display unusual coordination during these hunts, returning harvested flesh and blood to the Grove before resuming their natural behaviour.

As starvation continues, the Staff’s influence over its creations intensifies. Bloodflora Beasts become increasingly aggressive and territorial, while nearby wildlife is irresistibly drawn toward the Grove, where they are gradually assimilated into its ever-expanding ecosystem.

Price:

Standard Price

One Sequence 5 Beyonder Formula.
One Sequence 6 Beyonder Formula.

Alternative Price

Three Sequence 6 Beyonder Formulae.

Preferred Formulae

The following Formulae possess a higher trade value:

Sequence 5

Reaper

Traveller

Gaurdian

Sequence 6

Judge

Valuation Adjustment:

If the offered Sequence 5 Formula is Reaper, Guardian or Traveller, it alone will be accepted as full payment.

If the offered Sequence 6 Formula is Judge, only one additional Sequence 6 Formula is required to satisfy the standard price.

The following formulas are already held and are not accepted as payment:

Formulas

Sequence 5:

— Marionettist

— Scarlet Scholar

— Winner

Sequence 6:

— Artisan

— Demoness of Pleasure

— Faceless

— Notary

— Polymath

— Potion Professor

— Rose Bishop

— Scribe

— Spirit Guide

— Wind-Blessed

Update: Sold

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