"Mr. Tower…"
Alger felt his teeth chattering—not from fear, but from a body's uncontrollable reflex. "What do we do?"
At a thought from Edward, Phoenix swept out of the Spirit World.
Almost instantly, the Feathered Serpent reacted as if it had seen a natural enemy. Its massive body coiled in tight rings, fixing a deadly stare on that black-and-crimson silhouette.
"Phoenix, can you handle that demigod-level Feathered Serpent?"
Phoenix spat out the 'Death Ring'. "I can."
With that, it streaked forward like an afterimage.
The demigod Feathered Serpent gaped wide, baring rows of razor teeth, and struck.
Phoenix slipped past the bite with ease. In the blink of an eye, its body expanded dramatically, and with one claw, it slamd down on the serpent's head, knocking it from the tree to the ground with a thunderous crash.
The Feathered Serpent thrashed madly, yet—mysteriously—its colossal body could not muster strength enough to wrench free of Phoenix's claws.
Rip!
Bright red blood gushed like a stream as Phoenix tore the massive head clean off.
Yet the serpent did not die—it continued to writhe in the dirt.
Stab!
Phoenix's long, needle-sharp beak punched into the serpent's skull. A few seconds later, the fla burning within those pupils winked out.
The whole thing had taken less than a minute.
At that mont, Edward only wanted to say one thing: Phoenix, you said you can't fight?
Alger had long since gone slack-jawed. A demigod-level Beyonder creature—dead, just like that? Even more casually than that baboon from before!
And that bird, which had dispatched a demigod with ridiculous ease—what Sequence was it? What was its relationship to Mr. Tower?
"This is my ssenger. If you need in the future, you can reach through it," Edward said as he accepted the Undying's Beyonder characteristic Phoenix had brought back.
ssenger?
Alger suddenly found the word strange. What respectable person's "ssenger" could kill a demigod in seconds?
Soti during the exchange the mist had dispersed. The forest, plunged into pitch black darkness a mont ago, brightened once more under sunlight—as if that "night" had rely been a thick cloud passing before the sun.
"Alright, shall we keep going?" Edward stowed the characteristic.
"Weren't we waiting for nightfall?"
"Didn't we just experience a night?"
Alger glanced at the feathered serpent's corpse and suddenly seed to understand sothing. A thought rose in his heart—Mr. Tower likely wasn't here for the first ti.
It felt more like he had co with a very specific purpose.
But…that didn't make sense. If that were the case, why would he need to provide the coordinates?
"…"
Mr. Fool!
Realisation struck Alger. If Mr. Tower had co at Mr. Fool's behest, everything fit! Which ant it wasn't Mr. Tower's objective—but Mr. Fool's.
In other words, this island held sothing that could draw the attention of a deity.
…Was it the ruin of that chapel ahead?
They moved on unimpeded. Whatever creatures had been circling had scattered at the commotion of the fight; Phoenix followed at a asured distance.
Most of the ti, Beyonder creatures had a keener instinct for danger than human Beyonders.
Soon, a field of ruins appeared in front of them.
Only the main structure of the building remained, leaving no way to know what it had originally looked like. From the remnants one could at least infer thick walls, grand scale, and narrow windows; it had once borne a tower and a bell tower, with a plain exterior and archaic form.
"This primitive island was sothing I discovered with Qilangos," Alger said then. "But I was weaker than he was at the ti, so I didn't go as deep as he did into this ruin.
"From the scraps he let slip afterwards, I'm convinced sothing…extrely precious is hidden here." He shot Edward a glance. "But that's only my conjecture."
Edward, of course, knew what lay within. For most people, the most valuable things were the Third Epoch frescoes hidden under layers of age. For Alger and Edward, however, the prize was the Tyrant card—though what Alger needed were the formulas recorded on it, while Edward wanted the card itself.
Together they passed through the broken doorway into a deep hall. Many of the classical stone pillars supporting it had collapsed or snapped in half. Ahead lay darkness, plunging straight down into the depths.
On the wall by the entrance was a mural of the Ancient Sun God, cradling the First Blasphemy Slate, surrounded by worshippers and angels.
At this point in ti, the City of Silver had not yet delved deeply into that temple, and the Tarot Club mbers' knowledge of the Ancient Sun God was essentially nil. Thus Alger had no particular fra of reference for the murals.
He said, "When I first ca here, I saw these paintings. They seem to tell stories of ancient deities and angels, but I later found nothing about them in the Church's records."
Naturally, Leodero would never have left any record of betraying—and devouring—his own master.
"Let's keep moving."
They stepped forward toward the stairway leading underground. The light around them began to dim.
"Mr. Tower, do you recognise who's depicted on these murals?" Alger asked.
Edward didn't answer him. Instead, he looked to Phoenix, who had followed them in. "Phoenix, do you recognise "Him"?"
Phoenix stared a few monts at the image of the Ancient Sun God, then shook its head. "I do not."
Edward didn't press. "Do you rember the 'Kings of Angels' I ntioned before?"
"...You said the Kings of Angels served beside the Ancient Sun God—leaders of all angels—the eight beings closest to the divine throne."
"The one in the very centre is the Ancient Sun God," Edward said.
"The Ancient Sun God? Mr. Tower, who exactly was this deity?" Alger asked, surprised. "You only ntioned "Him" in passing last ti."
"As I said, "He" was the Lord who created everything, the omniscient and omnipotent God—the saviour who ended the age when this world was ruled by deranged mythical beings. Without "Him", humanity might still be under the yoke of those creatures today—reduced to their food and slaves."
It was the first ti Alger had heard such an account. Until now, his understanding had been that "the Creator awoke from chaos, shattered the darkness…transford into all things; His body beca the earth and stars, His eyes the sun and the crimson moon…."
And that the Seven Churches taught that the seven orthodox deities were ford from the Creator's body; that "They" rescued humanity from the mad world and brought peace.
But according to Mr. Tower, the Seven's proclamations were a lie? If so, what roles had the Seven actually played?
They soon reached the bottom of the steps and ca before an arched doorway. Alger could no longer hold back:
"...Mr. Tower, during the era of the Ancient Sun God—what were the Seven Orthodox Deities doing?"
Edward thought a mont, then offered a deliberately vague reply. "So among the Seven were Kings of Angels who served the Ancient Sun God; others were subsidiary gods."
Alger's heart gave a violent jolt. The Seven, high above all today, had once been angels—or subsidiary gods—serving another?
If this got out, he would be executed as a blaspher on the spot.
"Careful. There should be sothing ahead that can petrify you," Edward warned, pointing at the doorway. On either side stood two statues, ashen-grey from head to toe: one wore a barrel-shaped suit of full plate, the other a jacket with a more modern cut. Both faces were twisted in pain, eyes bulging—as if glaring at sothing that had appeared before them.
These had been travellers turned to stone by the six-winged gargoyle lurking here.
"No wonder Qilangos fled from below in such a sorry state the first ti."
Beyond the threshold, darkness swallowed everything. As usual, Edward transfigured a ring of lanterns to float at their flanks, then lined up a dozen more in a row to spear through the dark and illuminate the passage ahead.
The ability didn't flaunt overwhelming power, but it still made Alger click his tongue in marvel—the arts Mr. Tower commanded were truly uncanny.
They pressed on. Statues of various species appeared one after another, yet they encountered no gargoyle like the one in the "original story," not even at the far end of the corridor.
"Co to think of it, we weren't attacked on the way in either. That gargoyle was frightened off by the commotion earlier," Alger muttered, raising his guard as his gaze skimd the murals on both walls—records of the Ancient Sun God's salvation, exalting "His" greatness and sanctity.
Edward then used Door Opening to take Alger through the ash-white gate at the end of the passage into a burial hall lined with coffins.
Moisture seeped from the high stone, leaving the chamber damp. The interior split to left and right, each side holding twelve ashen, dusky sarcophagi. At the centre lay an empty circular space; on the corresponding floor was what seed to be a finely wrought, intricate design—depicting the three angels devouring the Ancient Sun God, and the birth of the True Creator as the black infant.
The instant Alger saw it, his body trembled. "This painting…the one being eaten…"
"Is the Ancient Sun God," Edward said with a sigh. "And those doing the devouring are three of the Kings of Angels who served "Him"."
He had long known this episode from the original account, but seeing the mural with his own eyes still sent a chill through Edward. One could imagine that the scene as it truly unfolded had been even more grueso and despairing than the mural suggested.
"—!" Alger went still, then looked back at the wall again, his face paling.
The Kings of Angels who had served the Ancient Sun God…had devoured "Him"?
Wait!
His pupils tightened as Mr. Tower's earlier words flashed through his mind: if so among the present Seven had once been Kings of Angels or subsidiary gods who served the Ancient Sun God…did that an that among "Them" were those who had participated in the Ancient Sun God's devouring—
He did not pursue the thought further. Yet a sudden understanding blood in his heart: So this was why Mr. Fool had sent Mr. Tower to this primitive island?
What role had Mr. Fool played in that "banquet of betrayal"?
(Mr. Fool: Don't look at ! Back then I was hanging like a slab of bacon to dry.)
———
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