Edward froze in shock. Wait—this…wasn't this the same ritual Voldemort used for his resurrection?
How could Lilith possibly think of using that magic for revival?
No—how could she even know about that spell?
In Harry Potter, Voldemort used the resurrection ritual because of his Horcruxes.
So if Lilith was using the same magic…could it be that she too had created Horcruxes?
Was that why she had survived back then—because of them?
But that raised another question: how did she even learn how to create one?
Just then, Edward felt a feedback through his spirituality—his Potion of the Deconstruction Scholar was being digested again, and the progress had reached halfway. That sudden advancement confirmed his earlier suspicion…it was true.
Lilith really had created Horcruxes.
Exhaling slowly, Edward steadied himself. Now's not the time to think about that.
He asked again, "The servant's flesh is relatively easy to obtain, and the enemy's blood…"
Krismona replied, "Back in Trier's underground, we already obtained it from Cheek's God descent."
"So that just leaves…the father's bone?"
"Mm."
Edward's expression turned uncertain. Emotionally speaking, perhaps he could count as "Lilith's father"—that is, the original Lilith from before the transmigration. But that was purely in an emotional sense.
Lilith's true form was a cat; naturally, her father was a cat as well.
But even if that cat were still alive—or if it had died and its remains could somehow be found—that would be in the future, and in another world.
So how could Lilith possibly find "her father's bone" now?
And yet her solution was…to enter the mirror world.
But why? How could the mirror world possibly contain her father's remains?
Lilith, what exactly are you planning…?
"Why do you think 'the father's bone' would have anything to do with the mirror world?" he asked.
Krismona thought for a moment. "Mama didn't say. But…from what I overheard from Cheek back then, the 'great terror' hidden in the deeper layers of the mirror world might be related to the one called 'The Original Creator.'"
The Original Creator…? The Primordial One?
Edward's heart skipped a beat. Again with the Original Creator?
Cheek had done everything She did to become the Primordial.
And now Lilith too…could she be trying to follow in Her footsteps?
Just as that thought struck him, Edward felt a sharp stabbing pain in his head—his spirituality had been completely drained.
He had no choice but to close his eyes and stop the Deconstruction.
Letting out a long sigh, Edward had already made up his mind:
I can't keep waiting like this. I have to advance to Sequence 2 as soon as possible and go into the mirror world to find Lilith!
A moment later, he said quietly, "Let's go."
———
Inside the Sefirah Castle.
Edward abruptly appeared upon the ancient bronze throne.
He cut off Amon before the latter could even finish his greeting, leaned back calmly, and sank into thought.
He was still one step away from advancing to Sequence 2.
What he lacked were three things: the final stage of his Deconstruction Scholar potion digestion, a Beyonder characteristic of the Miracle Invoker, and the advancement ritual itself—to turn a well-known event into falsehood.
The potion digestion could perhaps be completed through communication with the True Creator and Mr. Door.
As for the Miracle Invoker's characteristic, that would take patience and proper timing—he had to wait for Roselle to act.
But right now, Roselle was still far too weak—not only in strength and influence, but in mindset as well.
So when, or even if, he would manage to steal the notebook was highly uncertain.
And the ritual?
For now, the only possible path seemed to be letting Roselle follow the "established history" until he eventually reached that moment in the far future—over a hundred years from now.
No.
With that much time, I wouldn't even need to advance.
With my current level of Deconstruction alone, I could already enter the mirror world eventually.
Edward closed his eyes, thoughts spinning rapidly as he silently recited the advancement ritual in his mind:
"Turn a well-known event into falsehood."
The phrase "well-known" usually refers to a large number of people.
But in the world of mysteries, there was another rule:
If the quantity is insufficient, compensate with higher Sequence beings.
If he couldn't quickly make an event known to vast numbers of ordinary people—then making it known to a significant portion of high-Sequence Beyonders could achieve the same effect.
So then—what kind of event, one known to many high-Sequence Beyonders, could be made 'true into falsehood'?
Helping the Ancient Sun God resurrect?
Helping both Liliths resurrect?
Or perhaps…
Edward gazed into the boundless gray fog before him. Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind, sending a tremor through his chest.
He flicked his fingers lightly, and a gold coin spun out, glittering as it fell.
The moment it was about to touch the bronze table, he activated [Madman to the Right]—
Bang!
The coin exploded midair, disintegrating into countless specks of golden dust.
Failed!
Edward blinked in disbelief. Madman to the Right failed?!
It was the first time this ability had ever failed him—and the failure had manifested in such a strange form.
He had long suspected that [Madman on the Right], like [Delusion], must have its limits.
But what he had just tried to reverse shouldn't have been that difficult, right?
After a long silence, Edward shook his head. He had more or less figured out the reason, and soon, a new plan formed in his mind.
He flipped another coin, once again invoking [Madman on the Right], then gently tapped the bronze tabletop and turned to Amon.
"Amon, I'm going to speak with the Hanged Man in a moment. Anything you want me to pass along to him?"
"Oh?" Amon squinted, humming with mock suspicion. "Trying to get me to slip up again, are you?"
"No," Edward replied evenly.
"Hmph." Amon crossed his arms, his smile sharp. "Then tell him this for me—next time I visit the Forsaken Land of the Gods, can he pretend not to see me? Not that it matters even if he does—I'd like to know what he thinks he can do about it."
Edward chuckled softly. "Got it."
———
Former Aurora Order base.
Edward appeared in Mr. F's old bedroom and walked straight to the fireplace—the same one that had been blasted open, revealing a tunnel that led down to the basement.
Holding up a lantern he'd conjured through transfiguration, he descended.
The place was a ruin. The official Beyonders of the Machinery Hivemind had already discovered and destroyed this site.
Now, all that remained were piles of rubble, scorched fragments of altars, and broken shards of divine statues.
"Oh…I see."
Edward sighed in mild exasperation.
No wonder the True Creator sent that Angel of the Holy Word to deal with me last time. Pretending to be Mr. F was only part of it—the real issue must've been that I caused the destruction of His statue and altar.
I'd be furious too.
With a wave of his hand, Edward shrouded the area, isolating it within another spatial layer.
"Reparo."
He raised his wand, murmuring the incantation.
The ruined basement seemed to rewind through time—the shattered stones reassembling, the burnt walls smoothing out.
But the recovery was incomplete. Most of the original items had already been taken away by the Machinery Hivemind.
With only remnants left, a full restoration was impossible.
So for the rest, Edward simply used Transfiguration, reshaping the missing pieces until the underground chamber looked roughly seventy to eighty percent like its old self.
He then stood before the altar, staring at the inverted one-eyed statue—its stone surface still stained with dried blood.
He hesitated.
I remember…praying to the True Creator required blood and flesh, right?
Would transfigured ones even work?
"…Forget it."
Let's try anyway.
Edward lit the candles, drew a deep breath, and solemnly intoned in ancient Hermes:
"The Lord that Created Everything,
The Lord who Reigns Behind the Curtain of Shadows,
The Degenerate Nature of all Living Things"
He paused for a few seconds, then added, "May I speak with You?"
A brief silence followed.
Then, a chilling wind rose within the subterranean chamber.
The candle flames flickered violently, and their orange glow deepened—reddening until it resembled blood.
A moment later, boundless malice flooded in from all directions.
From the shadows around him and beneath the ground sprouted brass-colored eyes—countless, unblinking, full of madness and cruelty.
A few were cold and emotionless, but most blazed with unrestrained frenzy.
From them came a voice—distant, rasping, and incomprehensibly ancient:
"You…"
"No…you are not…Him."
"You…who are you?"
The words of the True Creator made Edward frown slightly.
Who am I?
That was such a philosophical question—so philosophical that Edward, for a moment, had no idea how to answer.
A passing Kamen Rider?
"You…who are you?"
The voice came again, sharp as glass scraping against stone—shrill enough to make his eardrums ache.
Edward hurriedly composed himself, bowing with an expression of devout reverence.
"Lord, I…am Your faithful follower—Your lamb beneath the holy crook."
The countless brass eyes widened, scrutinising him intensely, as if trying to discern his true nature.
Edward could only steel himself and maintain his façade of pious submission.
The Russian Priest had only told him to pray to the True Creator—he hadn't said what to say during the prayer.
Of course, that wasn't even Edward's real purpose tonight.
He clasped his hands and spoke solemnly:
"My Lord, may I ask—how can I reach the Forsaken Land of the Gods, to come before You and pay homage?"
"You…are not Him."
"You are not Him!"
"You are not Him!!"
The voice suddenly roared with rage. Each repetition carried overwhelming fury. Malice surged from every eye, drowning Edward in an ocean of oppressive hatred.
His body blurred and turned transparent—and in the next instant, he appeared behind a faintly glowing, illusory door.
Hesitantly, he asked, "May I know…who this 'Him' You speak of is?"
The True Creator's rasping voice replied slowly, each word harsh and brittle:
"An Outsider;
The Source of the Apocalypse;
The One Who Sets Everything In Motion;
The Saviour."
Edward's expression hardened.
He had heard those words before—back in the future, when Adam lay "dying."
Adam had spoken of the one who should have borne the uniqueness of the Door Pathway.
He never thought he'd hear them again—this time, from the True Creator Himself, in the past.
And yet, even hearing them again, Edward still had no clearer understanding of that being.
"You…are not Him…"
The True Creator repeated.
Edward asked cautiously, "Then why did You mistake me for Him?"
"Because…upon you…lingers His scent."
His scent?
What kind of scent?
Edward frowned, confused.
"It is…His aura…yet you…are not Him."
The True Creator's voice began to dissolve into fragmented murmurs, occasionally breaking into strange syllables—"Cyka blyat"—like a mind trapped in its own delirium.
Just as Edward thought communication was no longer possible, the malice suddenly receded.
The god's tone shifted—becoming ethereal, ancient, as though carried from across the ages:
"Was it…Adam who told you to pray to Me?"
———
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