——
After the Tarot meeting, Sairuis returned to the tavern. He went into the first-floor kitchen and used the synthesizer to make himself a "Sweet Dream Cone."
It was a tricolor ice cream cone from Penacony, embodying the very concept of "dream." At first, there were more than twenty flavors. But over time, only three remained—the ones that symbolized the most beloved dream scenarios.
Stelle poked her head out from a nearby trash can, the lid still perched on her head.
"Is that tasty?"
"Of course." Sairuis took a bite, then puffed his breath out several times, mouth wide open. "I think it deserves the Penacony Annual Dessert Award."
"Did it win last time?"
"No."
"No? Then what did? Oak cake rolls? Layered cake? Or maybe fried sundae?" Stelle scratched her head curiously.
"None of those." Sairuis shook his head.
"…Don't tell me it was soda bean juice?"
Sairuis revealed the answer: "Last year's best dessert award went to the 'Cosmic Fried Rice' promoted by the Interstellar Peace Corporation."
——
Night fell. Klein was already asleep. After the Tarot meeting earlier, he had pulled out his notebook, recalling passages from Emperor Roselle's diaries and copying them down in Chinese. It was his way of reinforcing memory, to prevent forgetting.
When he was finished, he read them over and over, but in the end still tore them up and burned them clean. Once a week he repeated this ritual, ensuring nothing would be lost.
Later, he had also gone to the Divination Club, where he heard of a skilled pharmacist named Lawson Darkweed. The man owned a small shop in East Borough, Vlad Street No. 18, called Lawson's Folk Herbal Store.
Such a simple, straightforward name. Klein thought it was far better than those flashy shop names—you could tell what it sold at a glance.
He then met a Mr. Joyce Meyer. Some time ago, Meyer had sailed on the Clover, which had suffered a horrifying massacre at sea. Ever since, he'd been tormented by nightmares. Klein interpreted his dreams, gaining some insight into the Clover's tragedy and growing suspicious of a certain Mr. Tris.
Reflecting on all this, Klein was dozing off when—
Layers upon layers of unreal prayers filled his ears. Struggling, he opened his eyes, dragged himself out of bed, and walked four steps backward into the world above the gray fog.
The Fool that doesn't belong to this era;
The Mysterious Ruler above the Gray Fog;
The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck
Through the crimson mist, he saw that it was Mr. Devil praying.
"In the middle of the night? What could be so urgent?" Klein grew tense. Could it be the Tarot had been discovered by the orthodox Churches?
He listened as Cielris prayed:
"I pray for your help, I pray for your favor, I pray you… grant me a sweet dream."
Give me a sweet dream… a sweet dream… sweet dream…
Klein ground his teeth, eyes bulging.
[Confirmed: the Fool never sleeps.]
——
The Forsaken Land, outside Silver City.
It was a ruin. A six-man expedition team was investigating it, led by a burly man several meters tall—practically a small giant.
This was Colin Iliad, head of Silver City's six-man council, a Sequence 4 Demon Hunter, and a demi-god on the Warrior pathway.
Around a crackling campfire, the team rested. Two members held torches to make sure everyone's figure was illuminated, none swallowed by darkness.
No one spoke. Only the snapping of burning wood and the crunch of hard rations broke the silence.
At last, the mood grew too heavy. A gaunt man, though two meters tall the slimmest of the group, broke the quiet:
"What do you think that thing we found in the pit was?"
Days earlier, a strange sphere had plummeted from the sky, smashing into an already-explored area far from Silver City.
Since the zone was safe, a team was dispatched immediately. At the crater's center lay a cracked sphere of unknown material.
It was hollow, nothing inside—just a split, wide enough for a child to squeeze through.
An older man with a scarred face and a single eye, chewing black-grass bread, muttered:"No idea. But I heard it's tough as hell. Can't break it, can't study it much either." He conjured a flame in his hand to soften a piece of bread, handing it to a female teammate.
Another warrior spoke up: "I tried myself. Even I couldn't break it." He was a Sequence 5 Guardian, also of the Warrior pathway.
"But it's already cracked. If even you couldn't break it, then how did it split?" the gaunt man pressed.
"They say it opened from the inside."
"Which would mean… something alive was in there!"
"I heard—"
Colin listened quietly, neither joining nor stopping the chatter. In truth, he had arranged for the gaunt man to act as a "plant," to ease tension when things got too heavy.
Once the team had rested enough, Colin rose. He thrust a massive torch into the campfire and lit it.
"All right, everyone." His gaze swept across his five companions—four men and one woman. Counting him, six. "Time to move."
They were to explore the ruins. If they could find anything useful—say, a potion formula or a sealed artifact—all the better.
Colin doused the fire. The group left, torches in hand. Behind them, the clearing was swallowed whole by darkness.
——
The Lord of the Mysteries world was about to welcome its first Pathstrider! Applause!
(End of Chapter)