Adrian Crowe had spent most of his existence manipulating others.
Even true gods occasionally fell into his designs.
He carried the lingering divinity of the Ancient Sun God and wielded an authority that allowed him to understand the past of nearly everyone in the world.
Secrets.
Weaknesses.
Hidden histories.
By weaving coincidences and nudging fate, he usually achieved exactly what he wanted.
Yet the so-called angel of the Fool remained a blank.
Adrian could not see Rowan rcer’s origins.
Could not trace his past.
Could not explain how soone at such an early stage had once repelled the True Creator.
Even agents sent into Sky City returned with nothing beyond what the churches already knew.
Healing.
Shelter.
Miracles.
That was all.
The only conclusion Adrian could draw was simple.
The Fool had not yet appeared.
The angel himself was likely the true founder of the Church of the Fool.
And his ultimate goal was probably to beco the Fool... then claim the remaining neighboring authorities.
A triple-path god.
Which ant the sudden return and ascension of Bethel Abraham almost certainly involved him.
"If your guess is correct," Aurelion said slowly, "then caution won’t save us."
He looked directly at Adrian.
"I need to beco a true god. Now."
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
"You’re planning to replace George III during his ascension."
Aurelion did not deny it.
His path required hijacking another’s rise.
If he could replace soone on a neighboring path, the reward would be enormous.
But that opportunity was gone.
Bethel Abraham’s ascension was already underway.
The Fool’s path was guarded by Rowan rcer himself.
That left only one viable target.
George III.
Soon-to-be Black Emperor.
After a long silence, Adrian nodded.
"I’ll assist you."
Letting George III succeed would only make him harder to control later.
Aurelion ascending first served Adrian’s broader designs better.
Outside Backlund.
The storm of divinity had settled.
The blood-robed figure stood before Rowan rcer.
Bethel Abraham.
Freshly ascended.
Rowan extended his hand.
"Our agreent. Hand over your authority and the core of your power."
Bethel laughed.
A warped, echoing sound.
"Of course."
"When we rge, you’ll have everything."
He clenched his fingers.
Space scread.
A crushing force descended, capable of pulverizing stars.
At the sa ti, his blood cloak surged forward, trying to wrap around Rowan.
Rowan didn’t flinch.
His muscles tightened.
He took the impact head-on.
The ground beneath him collapsed.
Three-colored fla erupted from his mouth, incinerating the cloak into nothing.
Then Rowan stepped aside.
"Your turn."
Three radiant figures advanced.
Ancient.
Implacable.
One raised a golden vessel.
Light poured downward.
Bethel’s body lurched toward it.
"Open!"
Bethel ford a blazing star-shaped key and drove it into the light, trying to tear a doorway open.
The light trembled.
Then stabilized.
The vessel’s pull intensified.
No matter how many doors Bethel attempted to open, none answered him.
The golden vessel was not a prison.
It was a void that devoured space itself.
High above, moonlight surged.
From the remnants of the collapsed flesh-door, an ocean of dark tides erupted.
The influence behind Bethel.
An outer horror.
Before it could reach Rowan—
Two of the radiant figures moved.
Twin shears snapped shut.
The tides were severed.
The remnants of the doorway were erased.
Bethel Abraham vanished into the golden vessel.
Rowan stepped forward.
"Extract it."
A finger pointed.
A flash of gold.
Bethel’s newly forged divinity was stripped away.
So were three cores of supre power.
What remained was a severely diminished being.
Alive.
Broken.
Clean.
Rowan dismissed the radiant figures and looked down at Bethel.
"You broke our deal."
"So here are your options."
"Join the Church of the Fool as an angel."
"Or die."
Bethel did not hesitate.
"I choose to join."
It wasn’t submission born of fear alone.
It was relief.
Remaining at this level ant he was no longer a puppet.
No longer a vessel for sothing worse.
For Bethel Abraham...
That alone was salvation.
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