After failing to argue with the guard monster, Stelle ran to the confessional and queued up. Since she couldn't open treasure chests, she might as well continue with the storyline.
After waiting over ten minutes without reaching her turn, She grew restless. She glanced around, trying to find a VIP lane. Unfortunately, there wasn't one.
"Can't they just add a few more servers? These devs are so clueless."
With no other choice, Stelle stayed in line. She had already waited this long, after all. If she couldn't open treasure chests, at least let her progress the plot! What kind of logic was this?
Finally, after nearly thirty minutes, she entered the confessional.
Closing the door behind her, Stelle was enveloped in darkness, feeling like she had stepped into a closet inside her own room. Perfect—just like being at home.
"My child, what do you wish to say?" The bishop's voice came through the wooden screen. His calm, warm tone made Stelle relax unconsciously.
Not that she wasn't always relaxed.
In truth, Stelle didn't have anything in particular to say. She had come simply because everyone else was going in. So after a moment's thought, she asked, "I've got a question. If staying up late long-term can cause sudden death, and exercising regularly makes you healthy, then what happens if I stay up late and exercise every day?"
She couldn't see the bishop's face through the screen, but his voice remained steady: "Perhaps you'll end up with a very healthy corpse."
Then he continued, "Do you have any other questions, child?"
He was clearly trying to send her away, but the great Stelle wouldn't let him succeed. She pressed on: "If someone answers a dumb person's question correctly, does that make them smarter or dumber?"
[😭😭]
The bishop paused. "Perhaps such questions are better answered by the followers of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom. I know of several academic symposiums organized by them. Do you need me to point the way?"
Three minutes later, Stelle was happily hurrying toward one of those symposiums.
That night, Klein was ambushed by the Secret Order, an occult group established in the Fourth Epoch by little Zaratul, one that controlled the Seer pathway.
Truly worthy of being masters of the Seer pathway—before Mr. Fool, the apex of Seers, had even become a Beyonder, this attacker staked his life to play a key role in Klein's path to transcendence.
...
Time quickly jumped to Monday. By then, Stelle had explored most of Tingen City's map, yet the only quest she had unlocked was one from Old Neil.
She wasn't too anxious, though—quests got done naturally when their time came. For now, she just needed to trigger more of them.
The "buy one, get one free" event had ended after a few days, but the 30% discount on all drinks remained.
"Doesn't matter, it's not like we're spending money. Printing a few hundred barrels won't even take a minute." Legendary hacker Sairuis, master of Aether Editing, waved his hand dismissively.
Yesterday, new tenants moved into Apartment No. 2 on Daffodil Street across the road—the Moretti family. Word was their second son had found a good job, and the family wanted to start a new life.
Early that morning, Klein went to Blackthorn Security Company. Remembering Emperor Roselle's words in his diary, he chose to become a Sequence 9 Seer.
How wonderful—today a Beyonder, tomorrow practically a Pillar-level Old One.
When Klein descended, he carried with him the Beyonder characteristics from Sequence 9 through Sequence 1. Even if the Goddess stripped them away immediately, he still technically counted as half a Seer. Perhaps this was a kind of convergence, or maybe it was the Goddess' arrangement.
As a Seer, Klein first heard the whispers from the Sequence peak: "Hornacis… Flegrea… Hornacis… Flegrea…"
[Say, if Klein went half-mad after becoming the Fool, what would the lower-ranked Beyonders hear?]
"I'd guess… Dixie pie… sweet iced tea… Dixie pie… sweet iced tea…" muttered Sairus, crouching invisibly in the corner, marking the scene for posterity.
After becoming a Beyonder, Klein's Spirit Vision let him see a huge eyeball behind Old Neil. This was his first encounter with the Hidden Sage.
Two evil gods, each worshiped by a secret organization, meeting inside the Nighthawks' base—what a riot.
Sairuis snapped a photo with his blue camera, leaving Klein a souvenir.
Then Sairuis remembered the quest Stelle had triggered a few days back, and he asked the husky, "That party mission was about Old Neil, right?"
[Yes. Stelle triggered it.]
"What the hell did she do—help the old man cross the street?" Sairuis frowned.
[Not quite. She just carried him up a flight of stairs.]
That afternoon, Klein, exhausted from a busy morning, was woken by sunlight. He remembered he still had to host a meeting—what a disaster.
Dragging himself from bed, he tidied up reluctantly. Then he thought: Forget it, first things first—eat.
"You might not believe this, but great deities at noon can only eat black bread with tea and a dab of cream," Sairuis lectured Xing, sharing trivia about the Mysteries.
"Why not eat meat? Is it because they don't like it?" Stelle asked innocently, stabbing where it hurt.
At one minute to three, Klein walked four steps counterclockwise in a square, murmuring the incantation in Chinese just as before.
Only, this time he hadn't prepared an offering. Since his last deeper connection to the gray fog, Klein had discovered he'd unlocked free mode.
Closing his eyes, he felt an itch on the back of his hand. The four black dots forming a square began to bulge and emerge.
Mad howls and seductive whispers echoed, but as a Seer, Klein found the pain was far less intense than last time.
That was progress: today less pain, tomorrow no pain, the day after pure bliss.
The future was bright indeed.
[Related search: "Lust Taint."]
Of course, that didn't mean he was unaffected. Facing the source castle was no easier than before. It was just that, as a Beyonder, he had more self-control to resist listening to the howls and murmurs.
Soon, his "body" grew lighter, floating upward. He saw the vast, gray-white, boundless fog, and the countless crimson "stars." Among them, three had a subtle link to him, feeling strangely familiar.
Only now did Klein notice that Sairuis' "star" was different. Its color was paler, tinged orange-red, more solid, and shrouded in multicolored haze.
"Looks like our Mr Devil got issues," Klein thought.
He lowered his gaze at his hazy form, whispering: "Spirit body, as Old Neil called it?" Now, Klein's grasp of mysticism had deepened.
After a moment of calm, he reshaped above the gray fog the grand temple, the bronze table under the dome, and the twenty-two high-backed chairs with zodiac emblems.
Quietly, Klein sat at the head seat, letting dense gray fog cloak his form. He extended his right hand, pointing to two familiar crimson stars and the odd orange one, forging wondrous connections.
One by one, he clicked them. Their light flared.
At three in the afternoon, the auspicious hour arrived. Sairuis saw gray fog surging and crimson brilliance flooding his vision. Closing his eyes, his body transformed into a memetic form, pulled into the mist.
In a windowless basement, Alger Wilson sat beside a long table covered with instruments and parchment.
Before him, a half-burned candle flickered dimly, shadows dancing across the table and its tools.
His hair was seaweed-like, dark-blue verging on black, his robe embroidered with lightning. Fingers intertwined, thumbs touching, he leaned toward a sealed black vial.
From within came howls of wind, crashing waves, and shifting fog that seemed to sprout eyes and mouths.
Glancing at the wall clock, Alger saw the hand strike three. He rubbed his temple, eyes darkening, the items on the table shimmering faintly.
Then the crimson brilliance crashed over him.
In Backlund's Queen District, Audrey Hall dismissed her dance teacher, locked her door, and sat primly at her dressing table.
The sun shone brightly outside, flowers in bloom. On the table lay a blank notebook bound in fine parchment, and beside it, a golden-tipped pen inlaid with rubies.
Audrey tested her movements, confirming that the moment she left a party she could seize the pen and record a formula instantly.
How exciting. She took a breath, calmed her anticipation, and glanced at the mirror.
But the reflection wasn't herself—it was crimson light surging from every direction, inside and out.
(End of Chapter)