Chapter Thirteen: The Second Tarot Gathering

After an unproductive debate with the guard, Xing hurried to the confessional and joined the queue. Since she couldn't open the treasure chest, she might as well continue with the storyline.

After waiting in line for over ten minutes without any progress, Xing grew impatient. She scanned around, hoping to find a VIP channel, but there was none.

“Can’t they just add more servers? The planners really don’t get it,” she muttered helplessly.

Resigned, she remained in line. After all, she had already waited so long. She had come this far; not being able to open a treasure chest shouldn’t bar her from advancing the plot—that made no sense.

Finally, after nearly thirty minutes, she entered the confessional booth.

Closing the door behind her, enveloped in darkness, Xing felt as if she had stepped into a wardrobe in a room—so comforting, like returning home.

“Child, what would you like to say?” The bishop’s voice came through the wooden screen. His tone was steady and gentle, soothing Xing into relaxation.

Though she had always been quite at ease.

Xing didn’t have much she wanted to say. She had simply followed everyone else inside. After thinking for a moment, she asked, “I have a question. If staying up late for a long time can cause sudden death, and regular exercise promotes health, then what happens if I exercise every night while staying up late?”

Though Xing couldn’t see the bishop’s expression through the screen, his voice remained calm: “Perhaps you will gain a robust corpse.”

He continued, “Do you have any other questions, child?”

It was clear he was trying to dismiss her, but the great Xing would not let him off that easily. She pressed on: “If someone answers a question posed by a fool correctly, does that make them smarter or more foolish?”

The bishop fell silent for a moment. “Perhaps those devoted to the god of knowledge and wisdom would answer such questions better. I know of several academic seminars organized by followers of wisdom. Would you like me to guide you there?”

Three minutes later, Xing eagerly made her way to one of those academic seminars.

That very night, Klein was attacked by the Esoteric Order, a secret organization founded by young Zarathustra during the Quaternary period, wielding the Path of the Diviner.

Truly, an organization that masters the Path of the Diviner. Before Mr. Fool, the pinnacle Diviner, had become an Extraordinary, this assailant’s sacrifice would become a vivid, pivotal chapter in Klein’s ascendance to the Extraordinary.

...

Time quickly advanced to Monday. Over the past few days, Xing had explored most of Tingen City’s map, only unlocking a single quest from Old Neil.

She was not in a rush to complete the quest; time would naturally allow it to finish. What she needed now was to unlock more.

A few days later, the buy-one-get-one-free event ended, but a 30% discount on all beverages remained.

“No money spent anyway, printing out a few hundred barrels won’t take a minute,” said the legendary hacker Selris, who expertly manipulated Aether editing, waving his hand.

Yesterday, a new family moved into Apartment 2 on Narcissus Street across from the market—the Moretti family. Their second son had landed a good job, and the family sought a fresh start.

Early this morning, Klein headed to Black Thorn Security, recalling the words left by Emperor Roselle in his diary. He chose to become a Sequence Nine Diviner.

How wonderful—becoming an Extraordinary today was nearly equivalent to becoming a Pillar-class Old One tomorrow.

When Klein descended, he naturally carried the Extraordinary traits from Sequence Nine down to Sequence One. Although the goddess soon stripped them away, Klein was still half a Diviner. Perhaps this was a convergence or the goddess’s design.

As a Diviner, Klein first heard whispers from the top of the sequence: “Hornachis... Fregla... Hornachis... Fregla...”

[You wonder, if Klein as the Fool went half-mad, what would the lesser beings hear?]

“I guess it’d be ‘Dixi Pie... Sweet Iced Tea... Dixi Pie... Sweet Iced Tea...’” crouched in a corner, Selris, cloaked in psychological invisibility, grinned. He was here to witness the spectacle.

After becoming an Extraordinary, aided by his spiritual vision, Klein saw a large eyeball behind Old Neil. This marked his first encounter with the Secret Sage.

Two evil gods, worshipped by secret organizations, meeting at the Night Church’s nightwatchers’ lair—what a delightfully entertaining scene.

Selris captured the moment with his blue camera, preserving it for Klein’s future viewing.

At that moment, Selris recalled a recently unlocked quest and asked the husky companion, “The previous co-op quest was about Old Neil, right?”

[Yes, triggered by Xing.]

“What did he do? Did he help an old grandpa cross the street?” Selris was puzzled.

[Not quite. She just carried Old Neil up a flight of stairs.]

That afternoon, Master Klein, after a busy morning, was awakened by sunlight. Remembering he still had a meeting to organize, he felt the weight of the world collapse upon him.

He struggled out of bed, tidied himself up, and decided: since it was too late to turn back, better eat first.

“Believe it or not, great deities only eat black bread with tea and a little cream at noon,” Selris shared some arcane trivia with Xing.

“Why no meat? Don’t they like it?” Xing innocently asked, unintentionally piercing.

At three minutes to three, Klein stepped forward and, as before, walked four steps counterclockwise, forming a square. With each step, he quietly recited the corresponding incantation in Chinese.

Only this time, he did not prepare a main offering. After deepening his connection with the Grey Mist, Klein discovered he had entered a freeloading mode.

Closing his eyes, Klein felt a slight itch on the back of his hand, where four black dots forming a small square began to emerge and intensify.

The maddening screams and seductive whispers began to echo, but as a Diviner, Klein noticed the headache was not as severe as before.

This was great progress: if the pain lessened today, tomorrow it could vanish completely, and the day after could transform into pleasure.

Truly, a promising future lay ahead.

[Guess you’re looking for: Corrupting Lust.]

...

Of course, this didn’t mean he was immune. The Fool still faced the Source Bastion as before. But now he could exert great willpower to avoid actively listening to the howling, murmuring whispers.

As an “Extraordinary,” he had gained some self-control in this environment.

Soon, his “body” lightened and floated upward, revealing a vast expanse of grey-white, boundless, hazy mist and deep crimson “stars.” Three of these stars seemed subtly connected to him, evoking a strange familiarity.

Previously unnoticed, Klein now realized that the star representing Selris differed from the other two. It was lighter in color, leaning toward orange-red, appearing denser, with wisps of mixed-color vapor swirling around it.

“Mr. Demon has quite the problem,” Klein thought.

He glanced down at his blurry form and murmured in puzzlement, “The star spirit Old Neil mentioned?”

Now, Klein possessed a deeper understanding of occult knowledge.

After a moment of calm, he once again manifested the grand temple above the grey mist—the bronze long table beneath the vast dome, and the twenty-two high-backed chairs, each bearing the symbol of a constellation.

Klein quietly took the seat at the head, cloaking his body and face in thicker grey mist. Then he extended his right hand and touched each of the familiar deep red stars and the strange orange-red star, establishing a wondrous connection.

He clicked each star in turn, and the stars blazed brightly.

At three o’clock, the auspicious hour arrived. Selris felt a surge of grey mist before his eyes, deep red light flooding like a tide. Closing his eyes, his body transformed into a memetic form. Drawn by the grey mist and crimson light, he vanished from sight.

In a windowless basement, the broad and deeply etched figure of Alger Wilson sat beside a long table strewn with various vessels and parchment scrolls.

Before him stood a half-burned candle, its dim, yellow flame casting flickering shadows on the objects and tabletop, ethereal and vague.

Alger’s hair, tangled like seaweed, was a dark blue near black. He wore a robe embroidered with lightning patterns, hands clasped with thumbs touching, leaning forward to gaze at a bottle of pitch-black liquid to the candle’s left.

The sealed bottle occasionally emitted sounds of howling wind and crashing seas. Above the black liquid’s surface, faint vapor writhed, seeming to form eyes and mouths.

Alger glanced at the wall clock, noting the hour hand pointed exactly to three. Pinching his temples, his eyes darkened, and the vessels on the table shimmered subtly.

At that moment, he saw the deep red light surge like a tidal wave, emerging from nowhere and engulfing him.

In Beckland, Queen’s District, Audrey locked her bedroom door after dismissing her dance instructor. Sitting upright at her vanity, sunlight streamed through the window, flowers blooming brilliantly outside.

On the table lay a blank notebook bound in delicate light brown parchment. To its right rested a steel pen with a golden tip and a body inlaid with red gems.

Audrey tested the pen, ensuring she could immediately jot down recipes as soon as she stepped away from the gathering.

She looked forward to it eagerly. Taking a deep breath, she suppressed her excitement and gazed into the mirror.

But she saw no reflection of herself—only deep crimson, ethereal light bursting forth from all around and within her.