A pillar of blinding light speared into the night sky above Queens.
Across the city, Beyonders from the three Churches felt it at the sa instant. A surge that made instincts scream and hearts stutter.
Sothing terrible had just happened.
By the ti they reached the villa, it was already over.
Set’s body lay on the ground, split cleanly from crown to hip.
His Beyonder characteristics were gone.
So was the attacker.
Silence clung to the shattered courtyard.
No lingering aura.
No residue.
Only the corpse of a fallen demigod.
Hidden within layered concealnt, Rowan rcer exhaled slowly.
"It’s done."
He raised the vial and drank.
The potion slid down his throat like molten glass.
The mont it entered his body, sothing fundantal awakened.
The Trickmaster’s characteristic began to unfold.
Not as brute force.
Not as violence.
But as division.
A pressure ford at the boundary between flesh and thought, trying to peel them apart.
For most, this stage was a nightmare.
For Rowan, it was familiar.
He did not resist.
He guided.
His body and soul overlapped, fused for a fleeting instant, then burst outward.
Not into blood.
Not into fragnts.
But into countless translucent worms.
They spilled through one another, weaving, separating, reforming. Every worm carried layered, rotating sigils etched into its surface. Living symbols that bent perception just by existing.
Each worm was Rowan.
Each worm could beco Rowan.
The sensation mirrored sothing he had experienced long ago, when his true soul first fractured across multiple worlds, creating independent incarnations.
Compared to that...
This was gentle.
There was no screaming.
No tearing.
Only quiet multiplication.
Information poured into him.
New abilities.
New principles of deception, distortion, and identity.
And with them ca understanding.
How a Trickmaster digested power.
Fear.
Not simple shock.
Not montary fright.
But deep, lingering unease.
To be rembered.
To beco a story people whispered about.
The more minds unsettled.
The stronger the terror.
The faster stability followed.
Rowan considered this in silence.
"So I need to beco a nightmare."
A slow smile ford.
He already had a target.
"Zaratul."
Three Miracle Attendant characteristics existed.
One had already passed through Rowan’s hands.
One rested within the deranged body of Zaratul.
The final one lay sealed sowhere within the Forsaken Land of the Gods, information the Evernight Goddess herself had confird.
Long ago, when neither Evernight nor Roselle had chosen to walk the three pathways of the Lord of the Mysteries, Sefirah Castle had attempted to force a solution.
When Zhou Mingrui’s soul was released, it had been paired with a sealed artifact containing a Miracle Attendant characteristic.
The intention was simple.
Zhou Mingrui would awaken at Sequence One.
The Lord of the Mysteries would imdiately revive.
Evernight intervened.
She severed the soul from the artifact.
Zhou Mingrui entered the corpse of Klein Moretti.
The sealed artifact fell into the Forsaken Land.
One day, Rowan would retrieve it.
But not tonight.
Tonight belonged to Zaratul.
Rowan reached into his personal space and drew out a sliver of preserved soul.
A fragnt taken from Zaratul’s historical projection.
He made small adjustnts.
Nothing obvious.
Nothing that would be detected.
Just enough.
Terror worked best when the victim had no idea a hand had arranged the stage.
Rowan released the fragnt.
The soul instinctively slipped into the River of History, streaking toward a hidden era.
Rowan vanished and followed.
Suppressing every trace.
Sequence Two Miracle Invokers could hide within historical gaps.
Zaratul had done exactly that.
After dispatching a projection to Hornacis Peak, his true body had concealed itself inside a forgotten slice of the past, attempting ascension in isolation.
At the critical mont, Evernight severed his projection and sealed it at Hornacis.
His soul beca incomplete.
He advanced anyway.
Madness followed.
Now, as the missing fragnt returned, sothing impossible occurred.
Countless spirit worms writhed together.
They fused.
Compressed.
Reshaped.
A towering mythological silhouette collapsed inward.
Becoming human once more.
Zaratul opened his eyes.
Clarity burned within them.
He reached up and stroked his beard, fingers trembling slightly.
"Amanises..."
Hatred condensed into every syllable.
Years of insanity.
Years of humiliation.
"All of it will be repaid."
His thoughts drifted further.
His father.
Killed by Antigonus.
Had that also been part of Evernight’s web?
Zaratul’s expression darkened.
Then another mory surfaced.
A figure.
Foggy Town.
A Beyonder nad Rowan rcer.
His historical projection had engaged Rowan.
And had been erased in an instant.
If Antigonus had not appeared...
Zaratul might never have returned.
"Who won in the end?" he murmured.
If Rowan rcer prevailed, then a new god might already walk the world.
If Antigonus prevailed, Hornacis Peak would demand another visit.
He did not know.
But soone else did.
Within the folds of history, Rowan rcer watched.
Silent.
Patient.
Sequence Four.
Preparing to frighten a Sequence One.
If it worked...
Most of the potion would stabilize in a single stroke.
Rowan’s smile was thin.
Almost gentle.
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