The terrifying, buzzing resonance in the room vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
Klein Moretti blinked.
The pitch-black light in his eyes faded, replaced by his usual warm brown irises. He rubbed his temple, looking around at the tense atmosphere.
Kim Dokja had Unbroken Faith half-drawn, and the Secretive Plotter's coat was bristling with cosmic void energy.
"What are you staring at?" Klein asked, his voice returning to its normal, polite cadence. "Did something happen?"
Dokja lowered his sword but didn't sheathe it.
"You... your aura changed completely. You sounded like a different person. An older, colder person."
"Different?" Klein frowned. He tapped the Neurotech Chip in his wrist. [Synchronization Rate: 10.5%] It had grown slightly. But he felt fine. His thoughts were his own. The [Self Sense] function wasn't flagging any breaches.
"I see," Klein murmured. "It seems the proximity to the Western Continent is accelerating the awakening. And not mention that in the Third Epoch the corrosion of psyche of past gods were more powerful."
The Secretive Plotter stepped forward, the pressure around him receding but not disappearing. "You are walking a dangerous path, Fool," the Plotter said. "If you are fighting against an awakening psyche within your characteristics, you need Status."
"Status?"
"Yes. One of the reasons I could suppress the psyche of the 'Supernova Dominator'—a Great Old One—was because I already possessed the Status of the King of Outer Gods," the Plotter explained. "The higher your narrative weight, the stronger your ego. If you become a Constellation—even a Narrative-grade one—it will act as an anchor."
"A Constellation..." Klein mused.
"You need a Giant Story," Dokja added. "Something that defines you."
"I received a message earlier," Klein recalled. "My Giant Story is... germinating.Regardless," Klein straightened his coat. "We need allies. And we need a secure place to talk, away from the prying eyes of this era's gods." He looked at them. "Chant this name."
He recited the honorifics in Hermes.
"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."
Dokja frowned.
"But you told before, chanting the names of True Gods is dangerous. Especially in a time where deities walk the earth."
"Do not worry," Klein waved his hand dismissively. "I have... a special relationship with 'Him'."
Dokja thought for a second. "But I don't know Hermes."
Klein flinched. 'Um… Correct, they have the system that translates for them, but they do not speak any language that can stir the powers of nature…'
"If you are chanting, use your real voice of a Constellation, it should be sufficient enough." Plotter interrupted Klein's thoughts.
Then the Plotter looked at Klein suspiciously, but he nodded.
They closed their eyes and chanted.
The crimson stars rushed past.
Kim Dokja opened his eyes.
He wasn't in the inn anymore.
He was seated in a magnificent, ancient palace held up by towering stone pillars.
Below, an endless sea of gray fog churned.
At the head of the long, bronze table sat a figure.
He was obscured by the fog, but his presence was immense—mysterious, concealed, and dominating.
It felt similar to the Secretive Plotter's aura on the battlefield, but where the Plotter was a crushing void, this entity was a terrifying secret.
RUMBLE.
The palace shook.
Another figure materialized in a chair.
The Sefirah Castle groaned, trying to reject the foreign entity entering its domain.
The figure at the head of the table—The Fool—simply waved his hand.
Silence.
The shaking stopped instantly.
The Plotter's form was also obscured by the fog, hiding his identity, but his tension was palpable.
Then, a third figure appeared at the far end of the table.
A Marionette, controlled by Klein, taking the seat of 'The World'.
"Welcome," The Fool spoke. His voice was layered, echoing from everywhere and nowhere. "Our organization's members come from different places and join for different reasons, choosing to change their own faith in the process. As for what happened before that, their lives remain their own."
"Who are you?" the Secretive Plotter asked, his voice guarded.
"How arrogant," The Fool chuckled darkly. "I am a Fool who likes a fair and equal exchange. You can use what you attain to exchange with me, or people like you, to exchange for things you want. But remember, they must be equal in value…"
He tapped the table.
A deck of Tarot cards materialized, shuffling themselves in mid-air before fanning out face down.
"Do you wish to join the Tarot Club?"
Dokja looked at the cards.
He felt a strange pull.
He drew a card.
[The Hermit].
Dokja stared at the card.
'I'm sorry Madam Hermit, during this era your place will be taken by my new companion. Could it be counted as Tarot Club 2.0?'
The Secretive Plotter drew next.
[The Tower].
The card depicted a tower being struck by lightning, crumbling. A symbol of sudden change, upheaval, and destruction.
Finally, the figure at the end of the table—The World—drew a card.
[The World].
"Meetings are held on Mondays at 3 PM," The Fool announced. "In this era, time is fluid, but I will summon you when the stars align. Until then... find a safe place 5 minutes before the meetings."
He waved his hand. The gray fog and crimson light engulfed them.
They gasped, returning to their bodies.
"That was..." Dokja rubbed his chest. "Intense. He felt like a true Outer God."
"I am the Blessed of The Fool in Fifth Epoch," Klein lied effortlessly. "I will try to garner 'His' support. The more allies we have, the better."
The Secretive Plotter looked exhausted. His [Spirit Body] flickered slightly.
"I am tired," he admitted. "Fighting Devils and Demon Kings takes a toll, even on me. Let us sleep."
They extinguished the lights. Klein lay in his bed, clutching the [Cane of the Depraved Monarch]. He fell into a deep, exhausted slumber.
...Dreaming...
In the dream, the inn dissolved. Klein found himself standing in an apartment. It was a familiar space. Unit 2 Daffodil Street. Klein felt nostalgic. It's been long since he dreamed about something. He wanted to see Melissa. He wanted to see Benson.
'I hope they are alright.'
Klein picked up the newspaper. It's been so long since he felt so peaceful.
He decided to read newspaper. The characters were Chinese talking about political crisis. Klein chuckled and put it away.
When he looked up, he discovered that he was in a different place.
Klein found himself standing in a field of serenity
The sky was a dark, velvety purple, adorned with stars that looked like eyes.
A figure stood before him.
A woman.
She was beautiful, terrifyingly so, wearing a translucent black dress that seemed woven from the night itself.
"Traveler," she spoke. Her voice was the sound of a lullaby that could stop a heart. "Where did you acquire that characteristic?"
Klein froze in the dream.
She was referring to the [Sequence 8: Listener] characteristic the Plotter had used to pay the innkeeper.
Realization hit him like a hammer.
The Hanged Man pathway.
In his time, it was corrupted by the True Creator.
The characteristics screamed with madness.
But here? In the Third Epoch? The True Creator didn't exist yet.
The Ancient Sun God was alive.
The Hanged Man pathway should be pure.
A characteristic that screamed with the madness of a future fallen god... it was a glaring anomaly. A chaotic cancer in a pristine timeline.
'The innkeeper...' Klein thought. 'She must have sensed the corruption and reported it to the local authorities. The Nighthawks of this era or whatever it's called now. Official Beyonders? But technically all the Beyonders during this Epoch were official so…'
Klein cleared his throat. 'Wait, what am I thinking?'
"We..." Klein improvised, his mind racing. "We received it as a commission reward. From a wandering mystic in the City …" the name 'City of Silver' almost slipped from his lips, "Kingdom of Silver. We did not know its nature."
The woman stared at him.
Her eyes seemed to peel back the layers of his soul.
"A commission..." she echoed. She stayed silent for a long moment. Then, the pressure vanished. "Be careful of what you carry, Traveler. Nightmares are drawn to rot."
The dream shattered.
Klein woke up with a gasp.
Cold sweat soaked his shirt.
"That was close," he whispered. He didn't waste a second.
He appeared above the gray fog.
He immediately summoned Kim Dokja's star.
Zoom.
Dokja appeared in the high-back chair of [The Hermit], looking confused and wearing his black coat.
"What? Mr. Fool?"
Klein waved his hand.
The gray fog obscuring his face vanished.
The gray fog obscuring 'The World's' face vanished.
Dokja blinked. He looked at The Fool—Klein. He looked at The World—Klein.
"You..." Dokja pointed a shaking finger. "You are... The Fool?"
"It is... complicated," Klein sighed, rubbing his temples. "It is my secret identity. A necessary deception."
"You scammed the Secretive Plotter," Dokja grinned, a look of pure admiration on his face.
"We have a problem. I was inspected in my dream." He explained the situation. The corruption of the Hanged Man characteristic. The anomaly it presented in this era. The visit from the high-ranking Darkness Beyonder. "It was likely a Demi-god of the Darkness Pathway—or perhaps a servant of the Ancient Sun God. We raised a red flag. We need to leave Moon City immediately."
Dokja nodded seriously.
"I will inspect the area first," Klein said. He shifted his consciousness. He didn't return to his body immediately. He exited Sefirah Castle in his Spirit Body. He floated down into the Recorded Past. His Spirit Body felt denser, more stable. Was it the Tower's stat boost? Or the [Cane]'s influence? He drifted through the walls of the inn. He checked the street. No ambush. No guards.
"It seems it was just a preliminary check," Klein noted. "They accepted the excuse for now."
He returned to the gray fog.
"It is clear," Klein told Dokja. "But we cannot stay. Also..." Klein looked up at the crimson stars floating in the palace dome. In the Fifth Epoch, the stars were few. Here, in the Third Epoch, the dome was crowded. Hundreds of potential connections. "I will begin drawing more members," Klein said, his eyes gleaming with a schemer's light. "If we are to save the Ancient Sun God, we need information. I will expand the Tarot Club."
"Just don't accidentally summon an enemy," Dokja warned.
"I will be careful," Klein promised. "One last thing. Do not tell the Secretive Plotter about my identity."
"Why did you tell me, then?" Dokja asked, tilting his head. "You could have kept the fog up."
Klein looked at him. The Reader who knew the story. The companion who had carried him on his back in the library.
"Because," Klein said softly. "I trust you. You are my companion."
Dokja stared at him, stunned. Then, he smiled—not a scammer's smirk, but a genuine, small smile.
"Alright. Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Fool."
Klein waved his hand.
"Go. Wake the Plotter. We leave in ten minutes."