Chapter 28: Conversation

Chapter 28: Conversation

If that demigod creature hadn’t automatically crashed into the Demon Oil Painting, I would have had to summon Mr. World’s historical void image… Uh, I wonder whether that would count as directly inviting an angel-level helper… While thinking this, Fors drank the potion.

To her, that bottle of potion was like ice water at an extremely low temperature, cold enough to frostbite a person. Wherever it passed, all sensation vanished, leaving only thoughts that had not yet frozen solid.

When a person became extremely cold, hallucinations were inevitable. Within Fors’s vision, a night sky instantly appeared. Within that night sky, countless brilliant stars interwove into a dreamlike river.

One point of starlight after another then reflected upon Fors’s body. They seemed to come from her own self.

Those pure specks of starlight formed invisible connections with different stars in the night sky. As those lights flickered, they twisted and wriggled, drilling out of Fors’s body like insects, as if they wished to throw themselves into the Milky Way inlaid with fine diamonds.

Each of them carried a portion of flesh and blood, along with a little consciousness, like uncontrollable avatars.

Fors’s thoughts swiftly scattered and grew hazy. She was almost unable to control herself enough to resist the tendency toward separation.

At that moment, she sensed something illusory.

It was the seal she had completed using the Demon Oil Painting. Projected into this mystical world produced by the potion, it formed an abstract, blurry mark.

Fors did not think. Relying on instinct, she extended part of her consciousness and spirituality toward it, tangling them together with that abstract mark.

The mark did not fit her perfectly and seemed to contain parts that did not belong to her, but it could barely merge with her.

All at once, the abstract mark in Fors’s mind became quite clear.

It was a “door,” layered one upon another, covered in mysterious symbols.

This “door” hid Fors behind itself, isolating her from the surrounding starry sky.

At the same time, on the other side of the “door,” the sealed terrifying creature seemed to sense the aura of its enemy. Using its own divinity, it wildly corroded the illusory “door.” This happened to counterbalance the influence the external starry sky exerted on Fors.

This state lasted for more than ten seconds. The night sky in which the brilliant Milky Way flowed slowly receded, and the specks of starlight returned to Fors’s body, merging with her.

At that moment, a deep darkness vaguely appeared before Fors’s eyes. In the depths of the darkness were an unceasing storm and occasional flashes of lightning.

The next second, Fors heard that familiar voice. It stabbed into her head like steel nails stirring her brain.

Fors’s expression instantly twisted. If not for the fact that she had experienced similar things again and again, gaining a certain resistance, and if not for the Saint-level status she now possessed, she would likely have lost control directly.

Of course, the influence of “good luck” was definitely present as well.

It took her several seconds, relying on meditative techniques, to barely stabilize her state and finally hear what the voice was shouting.

It was crying for help!

It was not Jotun, nor was it Elvish or Ancient Hermes, but a language Fors had never encountered before. Yet the moment she heard it, she could understand it, feeling as though this was the true source of many current languages.

Mr. Door crazily shouts “help me” every full moon. He is simply a disgrace among Kings of Angels… Still, even if He’s asking for help, it is a terror I can hardly endure… Fors muttered inwardly. She considered whether to pretend she had heard nothing and wait until she had preliminarily restrained her spirituality and grasped the Beyonder powers of a Secrets Sorcerer before speaking with Mr. Door during the next full moon, or whether she should attempt a certain degree of communication now.

Suddenly, that cry from an infinitely distant place stopped, and deathly silence filled the surroundings.

Two or three seconds passed. Then an ethereal voice capable of piercing spirit bodies entered Fors’s mind.

“You are using Beyonder characteristics from the Abrahams.”

The sentence was flat and direct, without the slightest fluctuation, yet the blood vessels on Fors’s forehead throbbed, her eyes filled with bloodshot threads, and her body shone with resplendent light.

She nearly lost control of herself.

“Who are you?” Fors steadied herself and deliberately asked.

The voice, which seemed to be inducing her toward losing control step by step, laughed in a low tone.

“You may call me Mr. Door.

“You should not be unfamiliar with me.”

This King of Angels from the Fourth Epoch directly pointed out that Fors had a certain connection with Him and could hear the “full moon ravings.”

…I’m going to write you into my novel! Fors silently gritted her teeth and asked,

“Honorable Mr. Door, are you the ancestor of the Abraham family, His Highness Bethel?”

The voice crossing countless barriers returned to its earlier flatness.

“Yes.”

“Then do you know that your ‘cry for help’ has caused the entire Abraham family to fall under a curse lasting more than a thousand years? Almost no one can become a Traveler, or even a Recorder. They always lose control and turn into monsters when advancing or on nights of the full moon.” Fors felt she could not speak with Mr. Door for long, or the tendency to lose control would become irreversible. Therefore, she directly raised the question the Abrahams cared about most.

Mr. Door was silent for two seconds before saying,

“They no longer have any Secrets Sorcerers? No other demigods?”

“After the War of the Four Emperors, they had none left. And the curse you brought caused none of them to be able to advance to demigod. If you could stop calling for help for ten years, perhaps a new Abraham demigod would be born. That would be more helpful to your escape,” Fors sincerely offered her suggestion.

Mr. Door sighed.

“I was exiled into the eternal darkness, obstructed by unceasing storms. I cannot know what is happening in the real world, nor did I imagine that the entire Abraham family would not have a single demigod left.”

Liar… The one calmly making this judgment was not Fors, but Klein, who had accommodated The Fool card, was holding the Staff of the Stars, and sat within Sefirah Castle, closely monitoring the corresponding crimson star.

He remembered that the Emperor had mentioned in his diary that Mr. Door had a certain understanding of reality. He seemed able to use the changes brought by the full moon to see and hear things beyond the seal.

After sighing, Mr. Door continued,

“Furthermore, the cries for help during the full moon are not something I can control.”

“Why?” Fors asked in surprise before she could stop herself.

Mr. Door said in an ethereal voice,

“You are already a demigod. You should understand one point very clearly: the higher the Sequence, the greater the threat of madness.

“A normal angel, even one who can freely walk upon the earth, do what He likes, and need not engage in additional combat, may gradually be influenced by Beyonder characteristics, become less like Himself, and even enter a half-mad state. I, a King of Angels who has been exiled and sealed for more than a thousand years, without even someone to communicate with, have not gone fully mad. That already proves I am powerful and fortunate enough.

“Whenever the full moon arrives, the mad part of me is strengthened, making me unable to control myself. All I can do is keep calling for help.”

So that’s how it is… If I were locked up like that, I’d probably go mad in a few months… Uh, if there were alcoholic drinks, newspapers and magazines, all kinds of books, and different delicacies, I could last a year—no, half a year… Fors nodded in sudden understanding and asked rather perfunctorily,

“Is there anything I can do for you? And how can the Abrahams eliminate the curse?”

Mr. Door fell silent for several seconds before saying,

“Arrange a ritual and help me escape. Then the curse will cease to exist.

“There are two rituals. The first uses one demigod each from the Seer, Apprentice, and Marauder pathways as sacrifices… The second extracts the blood of at least ninety-nine Beyonders of the Abraham family and uses it to draw a symbol like this…”

“…I will tell them,” Fors immediately replied.

At the same time, she added in her heart: provided I receive Mr. Fool’s permission.

Mr. Door smiled.

“If I can escape because of this, I will help you become an angel…”

His voice became increasingly ethereal and increasingly faint, as though, with the end of Fors’s advancement, he was gradually returning to his original state.

Two or three seconds later, Fors could no longer hear that voice capable of leading her step by step toward losing control. The deep darkness and terrifying storm before her eyes also vanished.

However, before the scene fully faded, Fors vaguely saw, through it, a vast land of dark-red rock. She saw an ancient structure resembling a pyramid standing there, and behind that structure, darkness stretched deep, stars shining within it—completely different from the starry sky she, as an Astrologer, saw from the ground.

What is this? Fors shook her head, controlled her wandering thoughts, and began seriously restraining her spirituality.

Once she had preliminarily adapted to the state of a Secrets Sorcerer, she immediately assumed a prayer posture and reported the experience she had just undergone to Mr. Fool in full, without omitting a single detail.

Only after finishing this did Fors put away the Demon Oil Painting and teleport back to Port Pritz to meet her teacher, Dorian Gray Abraham, who had been waiting inside the warehouse.

Seeing his student safe and sound, Dorian breathed out and, in a very believer-like manner, said,

“Thank Mr. Fool for His protection.”

He had finally taught a Sequence 4 Secrets Sorcerer who had not betrayed the family.

Because Mr. Fool had not yet responded, Fors did not tell her teacher about her conversation with Mr. Door. She planned to speak of it after the next full moon.

Likewise relaxed, she smiled and said,

“Besides thanking Mr. Fool, I also need to thank you, Teacher.”

…

Above the gray fog, inside the ancient palace.

Klein did not particularly doubt Mr. Door’s claim that he was already half-mad. He merely felt there might be even more secrets hidden behind the matter. For example, why had Mr. Door repeatedly induced Emperor Roselle to go above the moon? That was a place occupied by an Outer Deity.

After thinking for a moment, he took out the Crimson Lunar Corona and the Master Key from the fog of history, intending to actively create a full moon environment and listen to Mr. Door’s cries again.

The effect of this combination had long been verified. Very soon, Klein heard the voice that seemed capable of piercing his spirit body.

The content shouted by that voice was:

“Do not save me… Do not save me…”