According to the usual order of events, it wasn't yet time for participants of the gathering to write anything on the blackboard. But the host, Mr. A, didn't care — and Sairuis cared even less.
He walked straight up to the blackboard and wrote:
"The Fool's Grand Lotto — One Ticket, Ten Pounds."
Then, in parentheses, he added an explanation:
"(Upon use: 70% chance to randomly contain a temporary Sequence 6 Beyonder ability, lasting one hour, with no risk of loss of control.30% chance to directly drain 90% of the spirituality of any user below Sequence 5.)"
The description of such a miraculous item instantly drew the attention of many attendees.
Most of the Beyonders present were only Sequence 9; to them, a temporary Sequence 6 power was unimaginably valuable. Even Mr. A, who had been lazily admiring the attractive men and women in the room, turned his gaze toward Sairuis, who had just stepped away from the board.
Sairuis hadn't bothered to disguise himself — he boldly revealed his true face. Ironically, that made most people less likely to harbor ill intentions. And even if anyone did get ideas, Mr. A's casual, warning glances soon made them bow their heads again.
Mr. A glanced once at Sairuis, memorized his appearance, and then looked away with no particular expression — his eyes drifting once more among the beautiful crowd.
Good-looking, sure, he seemed to think, but not enough to bother recruiting.
"What does that mean? Tell me what that's supposed to mean!" Sairuis fumed inwardly.
[Isn't it obvious? It means your looks don't meet the standard.]
Sairuis shouted back mentally through the team channel:
"You banana-loving bastard, every Pure Beauty Knight I've met has praised my unparalleled handsomeness!"
[Right, you're as beautiful as a freshly hatched insect larva.]
Expressionless, Sairelis walked back and sat down beside Screwellum.
"Tell me honestly," Sairuis asked, "do I look ugly?"
Screwellum quickly pieced together what had just happened. He chuckled softly.
"Not at all. But the question itself is meaningless."
"Explanation: different beings define 'beauty' differently. Especially for organic life — perceptions shift with subjective emotions. Organic beings are emotional by nature, their feelings like tides, ever-changing with time and place."
"Conclusion: You need not concern yourself with the opinions of strangers."
Meanwhile, Viscount Glaint, Xio, and Fors were huddled together, discussing what had just been written on the board.
"A Sequence 6 ability… for ten pounds? That can't be real, can it?"
"It shouldn't be fake," Xio said. "Mr. A's gathering doesn't allow deceit. Plus, there are appraisers present. But that guy looks unfamiliar — never seen him before."
"Then his credibility isn't guaranteed…" Fors muttered, stealing a quick glance at Sairuis before swiftly looking away.
Audrey listened, but most of her attention stayed on Sairuis and Screwellum.
The way Screwellum spoke — his tone, his phrasing — stirred a wild suspicion in her.
Organic life? No way… don't tell me…
She could hardly believe her own thought.
Sairuis noticed her subtle change of expression and decided to "expose" Screwellum completely.
"So what about inorganic life, like you?"
Screwellum didn't care in the slightest — he had never tried to hide that he was a "mechanical intelligence."
In fact, after the two Mechanical Emperor's Wars, many planets had even developed machine worship.
And after he joined the Genius Society, the status of mechanical intelligences had risen further — especially those from Planet Screwellum.
"In my view," said Screwellum gracefully, "your appearance is quite impressive. But your aura is somewhat lacking."
His every gesture radiated elegance.
"If you truly wish to improve your appearance, your company should have many methods available. The family's cosmetic products are also excellent. Supplementary advice: you should focus more on your manners."
Leaning back in his chair, Sairuis snorted. "Forget it. I like my original face. What I have is charisma."
Screwellum nodded and didn't argue further.
He really is an inorganic being! Audrey's ears twitched. A mechanical lifeform — just like in Emperor Roselle's science fiction novels! Mr. Devil actually has a robot friend!
She could hardly believe what she was witnessing.
Time passed slowly. Audrey spent nearly as much money as Klein's entire month's salary buying three pages of Emperor Roselle's diary. She also noticed that Mr. A's attention often lingered on the more attractive guests — especially her and Screwellum, whom he glanced at several times.
A waiter quietly approached Sairuis and whispered, "Sir, someone wishes to purchase your extraordinary item. Please follow me to the private room."
Sairuis stood and followed the waiter to a separate chamber. Inside, a figure was already waiting — completely wrapped from head to toe, leaving only a pair of eyes visible.
From the constant aura of "luck" swirling around the man, Sairuis immediately recognized him. He shut the door, pulled over a chair, and sat down casually.
"Heh. A Winner, huh? I knew you folks would be interested in this."
The Winner wasted no time. He opened a case and said simply, "A hundred tickets."
Inside were ten neat stacks of ten-pound notes — ten notes per stack, totaling one thousand pounds.
Seeing how dull the man was, Sairuis lost all interest. With a flick of his wrist, the stacks of cash transformed into shimmering blue-and-pink Grand Lotto tickets.
"Go on, go on. Boring guy."
The Winner didn't argue. He checked the tickets carefully — somehow confirming their authenticity — then gave a short nod.
"Usage," he asked succinctly.
"Channel spirituality into it, then tear it open," Sairelis replied.
Without another word, the Winner shut his case and left.
After he was gone, the waiting attendant stepped forward again.
"Sir, a few more guests wish to purchase your item. Do you still have stock?"
Sairuis snapped his fingers.
"Of course."
He had known it all along — no one could resist the Grand Lotto.
That was the true charm of the gambling dog.
Sunday, above the Grey Fog.
Klein once again received a prayer — from that same boy speaking in Giant Tongue.
Extending his spirituality, Klein looked through the fog and saw the boy kneeling anxiously before a crystal ball, praying fervently.
Ever since the last time, when he couldn't understand the boy's words, Klein had been brushing up on Giant Tongue. Now he could barely follow along.
"Great deity, please once again cast Your gaze upon this forsaken land."
"Great deity, please free us, the people of darkness, from the curse of fate."
"I am willing to dedicate my life to You — to please You with my blood."
What a terrible prayer, Klein thought. You're supposed to include an address, or at least a name — that's Prayer 101.
Feeling "pleased" by the boy's offer of life and blood, the wicked "Evil God" — Mr. Fool himself — immediately thought of the Land Forsakened by the Gods.
He extended his spirituality and drew the boy into the grey fog.
The "evil" Fool could no longer restrain himself — he was about to act.
And of course, as god, believer, and blessed in one, Klein had to fulfill his "priestly duty."
Ignorant little boy… prepare to receive baptism!
World, Impact the Sun!
(End of Chapter)