"Got it. I’ll play along if you need to."
George gave Klein a casual thumbs-up.
He genuinely admired Klein’s nerve.
A low-ranking operative, ard with nothing but quick thinking and the strange properties of the gray fog, had successfully convinced multiple strangers that he was an ancient, slumbering god.
And sohow, no one had seen through it.
That took more than courage.
It required terrifying composure, flawless acting, and instincts sharp enough to survive a single wrong sentence.
Klein returned to the grand chair at the head of the table.
He reached toward a crimson star.
The first to be summoned was the young man from the Forsaken Lands.
"’Sun,’" Klein said evenly. "Welco back."
After a brief exchange, Klein pressed two more stars.
Light flared.
Two hazy figures materialized.
One male.
One female.
The man had long dark-blue hair and wore clothing reminiscent of sailors and island traders.
The woman was slender, dressed in refined, expensive attire, carrying herself with quiet elegance.
Klein’s internal assessnt was straightforward.
The man known as "Hanged Man" likely belonged to the Church of Storms and possessed mid-tier strength.
The woman, "Justice," appeared to be a noble from Backlund who had only recently stepped into the supernatural world.
"These two are new mbers," Klein announced in his role as The Fool.
"’Strength’ and ’Sun.’"
Then he gestured.
"This is Miss Justice."
"This is Mr. Hanged Man."
Surprise flashed across both faces.
Justice looked delighted.
Hanged Man looked irritated.
For about half a second.
Then he adjusted himself.
They took their seats.
Justice and Hanged Man quietly observed the two newcors.
One looked tense and inexperienced.
The other appeared relaxed to the point of carelessness.
"Mr. Fool," Justice said brightly, "I’ve obtained two more pages of Emperor Roselle’s diary."
George watched in silence.
Klein’s entire information network revolved around those diaries.
Roselle had been soone like George.
A traveler from another world.
Which ant his writings often contained truths no native could possibly know.
After Klein finished reading, the gathering shifted into open discussion and trading.
Justice needed a formula for her next step.
Sun needed the formula for his own advancent.
Sun possessed what Justice wanted.
Justice did not possess what Sun needed.
So Klein provided Sun’s formula and used it as paynt for the diary pages.
Clean.
Efficient.
George remained silent, simply listening.
Among the scraps of conversation, he learned:
The Aurora Order was violently hostile toward the Churches of Storms, Eternal Sun, and Knowledge.
The organization possessed multiple Saints and over twenty high-ranking operatives, all designated by letters.
Even their weakest mbers were dangerous.
And they were masters of infiltration.
When Hanged Man finally ntioned a notorious pirate infiltrating Backlund, George spoke for the first ti.
"This pirate. What level is he?"
"Sixth rank," Hanged Man replied. "But he carries a sealed artifact called Creeping Hunger. It can mimic other abilities. Very troubleso."
George nodded.
"Then he’s effectively fifth rank at most."
"I’ll be moving to Backlund soon. If you hear anything about him, let know."
He said it casually.
Like discussing the weather.
Silence followed.
Justice stared.
Sun froze.
Hanged Man’s eyes widened.
Fifth rank at most?
That kind of phrasing implied one thing.
He didn’t consider fifth rank a threat.
Which suggested...
Fourth rank.
A demi-god.
A true high-tier existence.
Inside his seat of honor, Klein felt a headache coming on.
He had just watched George defeat two fourth-rank executives days ago.
But he couldn’t exactly say that out loud.
Hanged Man swallowed.
"If you’re willing to handle it... what kind of compensation would you want?"
George thought briefly.
"Help collect records about ancient eras and prehistory."
"Anything related to early civilizations. Forgotten gods. Old myths."
"If you find sothing valuable, I’ll pay you as well."
He needed context.
History.
Clues about the original creator of this world.
The eting concluded.
Justice, Sun, and Hanged Man vanished one by one.
Only George and Klein remained.
"Anything interesting in Roselle’s diary?" George asked.
Klein slid the pages across the table.
George skimd.
His eyebrows rose.
There was plenty.
Roselle confird that after reaching a certain height, individuals could switch to closely related supernatural paths.
Not freely.
Only compatible ones.
Wrong choices led straight to madness.
Another entry described an ancient organization that possessed a second Blasphemy Slate containing twenty-two complete paths.
Roselle had later crafted a deck of cards encoding all twenty-two.
Where that deck was now...
Unknown.
George set the pages down.
"One more thing," he said.
"How did you get your hands on the Sun-path formula?"
Klein paused.
"That’s... a story."
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