Coyote, still trying to wrap his head around the strangeness of his new reality, suddenly remembers something — that moment back in the alley. The strange blur, the instant shift, when he was sure he switched places mid-motion.
"I think… I've used Phantom Swap before," he says, eyes narrowing.
Gandalf pauses. A flicker of surprise crosses the old man's face before breaking into a proud, toothy grin.
"Then it's decided. You're a Trickster."
He leads Coyote deeper into the dusty room and begins drawing strange constellations on a blackboard. With each mark of chalk, a piece of forgotten history returns.
"There are three divine paths a Catalyst can walk," Gandalf explains.
"The Soldier, born under the blazing sun — a warrior, protector, destroyer.
The Nurse, child of the moon — healer of flesh, mender of souls.
And the Trickster, the one who dances beneath the stars — manipulator of time, wielder of chaos."
Coyote listens, caught between awe and disbelief.
"Long ago, the three gods ruled the skies. The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars. They kept balance. But the Star God… grew greedy. He sought dominion over the others, believing fate belonged to trickery, not order."
"What happened to him?" Coyote asks.
Gandalf's expression darkens.
"There was war. A celestial battle so fierce the heavens bled. In the end, the Sun and Moon struck down the Star God… and his seat has remained vacant ever since."
He turns to Coyote, eyes gleaming behind ancient wisdom.
"No one has reached Tier 7 Trickster since. The path is sealed. The throne of the Stars… abandoned."
He leans closer.
"Unless a true prodigy appears."