Fors Wall sits at the table, visibly restless. She's heard the name "Abraham" from the elderly woman who introduced her to the Beyonder world, and the weight of that ancient Beyonder family fills her with deep wariness and fear. She may have appeared composed before Audrey and Glaint, but truth be told, she's just a… ahem, a novice Beyonder, still ignorant of many secrets in the world of the occult.
"…The potion you took, was it left to you by Aulisa?" I adopt a "nostalgic" expression, addressing Fors with a grave tone. In reality, I don't know Aulisa, the Abraham family widow. Even this body's original owner was only distantly related to her late husband.
But what does that matter? Fors won't know the truth, and an outer god like me isn't so clumsy as to reveal it. By weaving words that stir her tension and nostalgia, I pave the way for my goals.
"Ah… yes, Mr. Abraham," Fors replies, falling into my trap. She briefly recounts how she acquired her Beyonder's characteristic, prompting me to nod thoughtfully. When she finishes, sipping her tea and glancing nervously at my prolonged silence, I let out a heavy sigh, saying with "emotion," "It seems Aulisa saw you as a daughter… Sigh, with her husband gone and bearing the Abraham family's fate, I can understand her choice. Otherwise, she wouldn't have passed her 'Beyonder's characteristic' to you. But, Miss Wall, let me think… Did she also leave you a bracelet?"
"Mrs. Aulisa brought warmth to my life after I lost my mother, almost like a mother herself," Fors says, curious about "Beyonder characteristics" but emphasizing, "The bracelet… yes, she left me one with supernatural effects. If you're here to reclaim it, I can return it now…"
I raise a hand, stopping her as she moves to remove the bracelet. After a "pensive" pause, I say, "You're a woman of loyalty. Keep the bracelet—I don't lack Beyonder items, but it might save your life someday. However, Miss Wall, I must warn you: do not use it unless absolutely necessary."
"Huh?" Fors blinks, about to ask about the warning and the "Beyonder's characteristic" secret, but my stern expression silences her. Her writer's intuition kicks in—this must touch on Abraham family secrets. Wisely, she drops it. I stroke my chin, musing, "But if you wish to learn more… there's another way. You've touched the Abraham bloodline, so you could…"
Fors's ears perk up.
"Would you be willing to become my… or rather, the Abraham family's student?" I say solemnly. "This would honor Aulisa's final journey and reward your sincerity. If you become our student, I can even provide the formula for the next sequence in your pathway, 'Trickmaster.'"
Fors's heart races.
"You really want to take her as a disciple? Why?" The True Creator's muffled voice rumbles, eyeing me. Since I reformed the Aurora Order's devotees, His mental state has visibly improved. No longer wracked by constant agony, He's shifted from a raving lunatic to a sporadically grumpy schizophrenic. Though He still battles His crazed humanity, He now confines His ravings to the Forsaken Land, sparing the Secret Supplicants outside.
"Not me. The Abraham family's student," I, the High-Dimensional Overseer, clarify.
"Hm…" The True Creator turns, glaring at the tantalizing food illusions I conjured to taunt Him, resisting the urge to curse me. "When do you plan to advance to 'Hermit'?"
"No rush," I shake my head. "My last advancement was excusable—I was weak, and I could pass as the 'True Creator's favored' to barely fool Leodero. But advancing again so soon would insult His intelligence. Brainless as He is, He's far sharper than that traitor Badheil."
"I recall, the Twilight Giant… Why say that?" The True Creator perks up, clearly still bitter about past betrayals.
"It hasn't happened yet," I say casually. "Just a glimpse of the future. Sadly, in most visions, Badheil's end is utterly humiliating. If the Circle of Inevitability saw his life, it'd give a thumbs-up to the War God's 'glorious' deeds."
A traitor dies by betrayal; the Twilight Giant falls before the apocalypse. It's not my favorite ending—too straightforward—but it's the kind of curtain call the weak, scheming Circle of Inevitability would adore.
"One more thing," the True Creator says abruptly. "What pathway's potion did you give that viscount? You left your favor on him?"
"That's Mr. A's doing—likely Sequence 9 'Apothecary,'" I reply. "Your pathway's too obvious; anyone with status would recognize it. And divine favor? It's cheap. He's surrounded by people tied to the gray fog, after all."
A sly grin curls my lips. From the carriage, I glance at Viscount Glaint, his face alight with excitement. Behind him, a pair of transparent, near-indifferent eyes opens, silently watching. The text on the "Apothecary" potion formula in his pocket morphs into one never seen on Earth.
The "Dimension" pathway, Sequence 9: "Actor"!
"With my favor as this sequence's pinnacle, you won't lose control to its pollution…" I murmur to myself, my lips splitting into an eager smile.
"A Loen noble, a youth craving Beyonder power, the future stage's finest actor…"
An emperor losing control at a ritual is neither perfect nor despairing. I dislike such scripts. Following my pathway's instincts, I'll watch this emperor lead his kingdom to ruin in the most tragic way. Oh, and Cheek—He's unaware I've slipped His chosen divine vessel into my plans. Will the Primordial Demoness curse me like the Supernova Dominator when She sees me holding Trissy?
"Black Emperor, could this hasten your fall? A favored one from the stars, an outer god coveting reality… Don't you think you lack Roselle's ruthlessness and Solomon's cunning? How dare you die so cheaply?" Noticing Mr. A's glance, I flash a disarmingly friendly smile. "Let's go, Mr. A."
"We need to get back to the Aurora Order. Time's short. I'm heading to Tingen tomorrow morning, so you'll handle the Order's activities here," I say. "If anything urgent arises, summon my messenger to contact me."
Mr. A listens intently, as if awaiting the messenger's incantation.
"Eyes wandering in delusion, sage hidden behind the veil, messenger exclusive to Adrian Abraham," I instruct carefully. "And before summoning, always pray to the Lord."
I grip Mr. A's shoulder, my tone grave.
Sunlight bathes Tingen's streets, rousing even listless vagrants. Benson checks his watch, sighing. Even the wealthy have their woes—despite that generous, enthusiastic gentleman's plans, urgent matters called him back to Backlund. Thankfully, Benson received Adrian's letter last night, expressing hope to finalize their business deal this morning.
For a steady salary increase, Benson arrived early at the agreed spot to show sincerity. Now on his third coffee in Adrian's reserved private room, he wonders if he came too soon. As he rises to stretch, the door swings open. Adrian, dressed formally, steps in.
Today, I refrain from using my monocle, wary of Tingen's Amon tracing occult links to parasitize the Moretti family, wiping them out. Imagine Klein, "Great Master above the Gray Fog," returning home to find Benson and Melissa grinning with monocles, ending the game in cheerful GG.
"Greetings, Mr. Abraham. You look radiant today!" Benson stands, offering a compliment. I chuckle, settling into a chair with a playful tone. "Perhaps it's because I visited home. Home's where you're most at ease, no matter its state."
"Absolutely, Mr. Abraham," Benson says, his smile softening as he thinks of his siblings. "You're right—home's always comforting."
I skim the contract Benson hands me, casually questioning ambiguous points while splitting my consciousness across countless timelines, conversing with myself.
"Can we ever go back?" a sentimental me asks.
"I've forgotten my house's look, the scent of egg fried rice in the pan. Once I forget everything, you'll stop fretting," I, the High-Dimensional Overseer, reply coldly. "There's no home. This veil is our home now."
"No going back…" a rare, wistful me murmurs. "Fine. This life's not bad."
…
"Pleasure doing business, Mr. Benson," I say cheerfully, signing the contract with a flourish. "In my hometown, we celebrate deals with a meal. Care to dine out to mark our success?"
"Er… I can't. My sister's waiting," Benson says, smiling. "Call me Benson, by the way. Klein worked the night shift and is probably still snoring. You understand—as a brother, I need to look after him."
"Ah, bad timing, then," I say with a smile. "But since I'm back in Tingen, I can have my 'servant' whip up some Intis-style dishes and bring them over. Mind if I visit, Benson? Oh, and skip the 'mister'—just call me Adrian."
With the offer so graciously made, Benson can't refuse. His lips curve, charmed by this overly familiar yet undeniably likable gentleman. Chuckling, he says sincerely, "I'll await your visit, Adrian."
Viscount Glaint, brimming with excitement, gathers the materials listed in his potion formula. Opening a box from Mr. A, he finds the main ingredient. Suddenly, dizziness hits, and he mutters, "This potion… what are the 'Actor's' Beyonder's abilities?"
(End of Chapter)
Author's Note: Due to unavoidable overlap with Patriarch Pathway's sequence, this is retroactively named "Opera Actor." After Volume 2 introduces "Opera Actor," "Actor" refers to Patriarch pathway.
Translator's Note: Yes the author use 'He' as a pronoun for Cheek.