Williams Street, at the junction of the West Borough and Empress Borough in Backlund.
On a clock tower, only half the height of Backlund's iconic "Bell of Order" in Empress Borough, a young man wearing a silk top hat and a black trench coat stood quietly, looking down.
Black hair and eyes, a thin face, a broad forehead, wearing a crystal monocle, and a faint smile, it was none other than "Blasphemer," "Angel of Time," the True Creator's son, Amon!
Seemingly sensing something, Amon turned his head to look south, the smile at the corner of his mouth growing more sinister, and he chuckled softly:
"How lively! This familiar aura, how nostalgic! Pallez..."
He didn't expend effort searching for Pallez's whereabouts in the River of Fate. In the more than 2,000 years of pursuit and escape, Amon had quite a taste of Pallez's cautious nature. To use the Trojan Horse of Destiny's ability so brazenly, he must have already eliminated all traces.
And given Pallez's current state, to be able to use this level of power, he must have sought external help... Remembering the Scholar of Yore in the Forsaken Land of the Gods, Amon retracted his gaze and looked back down at Williams Street.
He pinched the crystal monocle, put his hands in his pockets, and left the clock tower, walking towards a certain building.
During this process, transparent, segmented Worms of Time emerged from him, swimming in all directions before disappearing.
Amon, as if nothing had happened, walked past the vigilant guards and entered the heavily guarded ancestral home of the Pound family, arriving at the door in the basement, which was sealed and obscured by numerous symbols.
The many patterns that originally flowed with spiritual light instantly stiffened, and some tiny divine runes quietly changed shape. Amon strolled through the stone door and arrived at the Blood Emperor's ruins hidden underground.
Passing through the passage and entering the hall, Amon glanced at the seven tall, heavy black iron doors at the bottom of the hall. They remained open, and the statues of the Six Gods, which would be considered blasphemous outside, were arranged in order.
Seemingly stirring some memories, Amon chuckled softly, took a step, and arrived at the innermost door. Behind the door was no longer a statue but a passage that did not turn.
At the end of the passage was a dark black double door, and in Amon's vision, a layer of dark mist covered the cracked door, blocking all perception and sight.
Clicking his tongue, Amon did not choose to directly destroy the seal left by Arianna. He merely raised his hand to push his monocle, a smile on his lips, and extended his right hand towards the double door.
The dark mist immediately rippled, like a calm river struck by a huge stone, and the Worms of Time that had emerged from his body quietly gathered, surrounding the entire underground ruin.
Amon, each wearing a monocle, appeared and simultaneously extended their right hands towards the double door.
As Arianna's seal changed, behind the dark black double door, specks of light converged, and three black high-backed chairs appeared. They were not purely dark black; dark red colors permeated the patterns, as if iron and blood were intertwined.
The normal-sized man sitting on the high-backed chair directly facing the door had three faces emerge from his head, looking in a certain direction with expressions of surprise or gloom.
The handsome face in the middle showed a strange smile and clicked his tongue:
"Yo, little crow, have your feathers grown back after I burned them off?"
"If you want to deal with me, a few avatars probably aren't enough!"
The slightly playful voice echoed behind the door, but it was blocked by the rippling dark mist. However, the monocle on Amon's right eye, who was still standing at the door with his right hand raised, seemed to flash with a faint light, and the smile at the corner of his mouth slightly receded:
"Even dying once hasn't changed your arrogant personality. As soon as I hear your voice, I don't want to cooperate anymore."
"How about this, you let Sauron and Einhorn come out and talk to me."
Although unable to see through the seal, the Red Priest seemed to sense the change in Amon's emotions and chuckled, "Heh."
"Tsk tsk, after so many years, still as willful as a child."
"Speak, what do you want to cooperate on?"
"I don't hate you too much. After all, what happened back then was entirely orchestrated by that fanatic. The mastermind was Alista Tudor; you were merely an accomplice."
Nodding noncommittally, pushing his monocle with his free left hand, Amon said playfully:
"After Tudor's death, his three remaining Conqueror Beyonder characteristics were controlled by the Sauron family, the Einhorn family, and the Augustus family, respectively."
"That characteristic that originally belonged to you, under the arrangement of that fanatic, was traded by Augustus to the Demoness Sect."
"Are you interested in cooperating with me to reclaim what was originally yours?"
The faces on both sides of his cheeks wriggled and distorted, seemingly wanting to say something, and the banner-like blood-colored mark on his brow glowed slightly. Medici sneered:
"Your proposal is very tempting, but I refuse!"
"How do I know you're not trying to trick me? Maybe you predicted my prediction?"
"Don't worry about my affairs. You're just an avatar, be careful not to be caught by that fanatic."
Seemingly not surprised by Medici's reaction, Amon's lips curled into a smile. He lowered his right hand and muttered softly:
"Before Alista Tudor, I always hoped you could become the Red Priest."
"If you could also devour that Demoness, your appearance at that time would definitely be particularly interesting."
As the slightly smiling voice echoed, the ripples in the shadowy mist returned to calm. The Amons, each wearing a monocle, also vanished without a trace, and this ruin once again returned to silence.
It wasn't until Amon left that a slit opened on the left cheek of the Red Priest, and a powerful voice rang out:
"Compared to cooperating with that quill, Amon is more beneficial for our escape. At least we won't get involved with that fanatic you mentioned again because of that quill. Haven't the previous lessons been profound enough?"
A mocking and disdainful voice simultaneously came from the right cheek:
"Einhorn, you've probably been dead too long and your brain isn't working well, forgetting why that guy is called the 'Blasphemer.'"
"Heh, his credibility is like your rotting face, always changing, and always for the worse."
Listening to the incessant bickering, the face in the middle, symbolizing Medici, showed a strange expression. He slowly sat up from the high-backed chair, raised his hands, and covered the slits on both cheeks, putting an end to the argument:
"Proceed according to the previous plan. As for that little crow, heh, he'll be back..."
-----------------
Inside the magnificent palace filled with dark golden mist, Aaron sat on the throne in the deepest part of the palace. After putting the Black Emperor card and Justiciar card back into the pile of miscellaneous items, he looked at the dazzling, multicolored light in front of him.
These were all characteristics he had re-condensed after mobilizing the power of the Nation of Disorder, crushing the Beyonder characteristic of the "Dark Saint," and stripping away the madness within it.
Aaron simply inventoried them. After divination and confirmation, he was quite satisfied with this harvest.
From a value perspective alone, the feather originating from Ouroboros was actually the most precious, but Aaron had already made it fulfill all its obligations, so he didn't feel regret.
Among the remaining spoils, there were three demigod Beyonder characteristics alone. In addition to his own Black Knight and Shaman King Beyonder characteristics, Aaron also obtained a Demoness of Despair Beyonder characteristic.
It was a pity that the souls herded within had long since dissipated after the "Dark Saint" fell, and the only remaining mental imprint was completely annihilated during the crushing process just now. Otherwise, Aaron might have been able to obtain some secret intelligence about the Demoness Sect through this Demoness of Despair.
Aaron shook his head with some regret. The Demoness of Despair Beyonder characteristic was of no use to him. He didn't want the Sequence 5 Reaper in his family to switch to the distorted Demoness Pathway.
After sealing these three demigod Beyonder characteristics and several other Sequence 5 level characteristics, he placed them in the pile of miscellaneous items. Aaron exhaled lightly, switched back to his main consciousness, and returned to the real world.
The light of dawn pierced through the thin clouds, refracting colorful hues on the stained glass. Aaron examined the ring box in front of him, repeatedly confirming that this item, sealing the "Die of Probability," had not changed in the slightest during the brief time he had entered the Nation of Disorder.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Aaron thought for a moment, took out a paper crane from his storage, unfolded it, briefly described Reychold's current state, and finally inquired about Ouroboros's current state.
After refolding the paper crane covered with writing, Aaron placed it directly on top of the ring box. He waited until the sunlight became scorching, but no drowsiness came.
This is because in cooperating with me to scheme against Ouroboros, the power accumulated by the restarted Will Auceptin has been exhausted, and he no longer has the ability to actively contact me...
Combining his current situation and the state the Serpent of Fate displayed when he communicated with Will Auceptin previously, Aaron shook his head helplessly. He put away both the paper crane and the ring box, having probably guessed the reason.
Ouroboros's state determined his level of involvement in the Great Smog event. He had to confirm it clearly with Will Auceptin.
If this Angel of Fate was not seriously injured and was still moving freely outside, the most direct impact would be on Queen Mystic Bernadette, who was holding that evil god's umbilical cord and secretly searching for Aurora Order secret strongholds in Backlund.
Even if she could truly disrupt the True Creator's descent ritual, Ouroboros would not allow her to advance to Sage.
After all, compared to the Churches of the Seven Orthodox Gods, with the Seven Gods behind them, Bernadette was clearly a soft target.
-----------------
Backlund, Cherwood Borough, Doctor Aaron's house.
A maid stood in the master bedroom, watching over Madam Wilma, who was extremely sleepy due to pregnancy.
Suddenly, in the corner, a figure quickly outlined itself. It was Aaron. He immediately pulled out a charm and softly uttered an ancient Hermes word:
"Crimson!"
The dark charm glowed, and with a slight crackling sound, a gentle and tranquil power rippled outwards. The maid immediately succumbed to sleepiness, slumped by the bed, and fell into slumber.
Looking at the serene Madam Wilma, due to the peculiar state of the pseudo-"Gluttony" mask, Aaron did not use the more direct and convenient Dreamwalker, but instead used the Nightmare ability recorded by the "Ring of Mysteries."
In a sunny, spring-like garden, Madam Wilma gently pushed a baby carriage with a happy and kind expression. Inside the carriage seemed to be a chubby infant wrapped in silver silk.
Standing at the edge of Madam Wilma's dream, Aaron smiled towards the baby carriage's location:
"I have received the Die of Probability, and Reychold has been rescued by me. However, he is in a rather poor state due to overusing his incomplete mythical creature form. But I have already arranged for someone to heal him."
"After throwing Ouroboros's feather into the Abyss, I entered the hidden world and don't know much about what happened afterward."
"I want to know how Ouroboros is doing now?"
As he spoke, Madam Wilma continued to gently push the baby carriage with a kind expression, noticing nothing amiss.
A childish voice, with a clear tone of schadenfreude, rang out:
"Fate is indeed fair. I said it couldn't always be targeting me. Everyone being unlucky is in line with fate's arrangements."
"Tsk, as for that stinky snake, he suffered a lot this time!"
"If not for the protection of the True Creator's power, he would have had to 'tail-bite restart' at least once, just like me. You don't need to worry, that guy has already gone back to the Forsaken Land of the Gods to heal."
Aaron's face twitched. He was both pleasantly surprised and a little annoyed. Ouroboros's interference being gone was naturally a good thing.
But what exactly did that "Dark Side of the Universe" or rather, the Mother Tree of Desire behind it, do? If not for the True Creator's blessing, it could even force a dignified King of Angels to "tail-bite restart."
Recalling the distorted figure faintly visible in the black mist of the Abyss behind the Door of Banishment that day, Aaron sighed softly. If he hadn't conspired with Pallez Zoroast and Will Auceptin against Ouroboros, he would probably have had to bear this luxurious treatment himself.
Silently giving Ouroboros a good guy card in his heart, Aaron cleared his throat, took a step forward, and looked at the blurry light mass wrapped in silver silk in the cradle, asking with some uncertainty:
"How long can your current state maintain the seal of the Die of Probability?"
After a long while, the childish voice finally came faintly, carrying a sense of vicissitude and helplessness:
"Six months at most, and if you use the method I taught you to manipulate the Die of Probability in between, that time will be further shortened."
"The last of the power I accumulated before restarting was all used to hold back Ouroboros and buy you time. This is already my limit."