"The main body gave you a gift, but I can't let it end there," he said, pondering, then pulling out a slate.
"I don't have the main body's power, but I'm temporarily in charge of this."
"I don't know how you know about Sequences, but I can let you see the true Sequences."
Sasrir was generous. In this treacherous world, knowledge was nearly akin to power.
In an era where Sequences weren't yet widely known, such knowledge was even more precious.
"Perfect, I need this knowledge," Truman didn't refuse. The knowledge had limited use for him, as he couldn't follow Sequence pathways. The Ancient Sun God likely knew this, which is why Sasrir could show him the Blasphemy Slate.
"It's part of the plan," Sasrir said. Truman nodded slightly.
Sasrir might intend to repay him, but this was also tied to their collaboration.
Like the stars, moon, and adjacent pathways.
These were the Sun faction's bargaining chips to ally with the other two.
"Oh…" Truman seemed to realize something, glancing at Hermes. Sensing his boundless desire, Truman nodded lightly, saying, "How much you see depends on you."
"Thank you, both angels!" Hermes bowed deeply, nearly kneeling. Truman grabbed another cluster of dreamy phosphorescence and handed it to Sasrir.
Sasrir blinked, nodded gently, unbothered.
"Let's begin." Sasrir fully unveiled the Blasphemy Slate. The hazy shadow lifted, revealing a gray-white slate.
It was ancient and mottled, weathered by time, inscribed with peculiar, instantly comprehensible text.
"Sun Pathway: Sequence 9, Bard…"
Wearing a sage's robe, Truman's ability to record knowledge was terrifying. He effortlessly deciphered the entire Blasphemy Slate.
"Sequence 0…" This was one of the rare things Truman took seriously.
"Speaking of which, I could make Blasphemy Cards now!"
A strange thought struck Truman, but he quickly shook his head. He wasn't the Great Emperor who'd even target Demoness. Best not steal the spotlight.
Lifting his head, he saw Hermes still engrossed in deciphering.
"Done." At one moment, the Blasphemy Slate was shrouded again in dense shadow. Sasrir stowed it.
"Phew!" Hermes snapped awake, bowing again to Sasrir and Truman in gratitude.
"A complete divine pathway, plus other pathways up to Sequence 4," Hermes said. Unlike Truman, he couldn't absorb all the information in so little time.
So he prioritized, securing his own pathway fully and knowledge of other pathways up to Sequence 4.
"Knowledge must be spread cautiously," Truman advised Hermes, his tone instructive.
"Yes!" Hermes recovered from the shock of vast occult knowledge.
"I, Hermes, swear to follow you, Angel, to my death! Human history will forever engrave your honored name!"
Hermes knelt on one knee, pledging allegiance to Truman.
No longer a virtual persona, but the true Hermes.
Truman paused, smiling and nodding. "You may also call me Dream."
"Yes!" Hermes committed the name to memory.
"Go. Your knowledge is enough for humanity to truly defend itself," Truman said. Hermes was an excellent follower, but he belonged in human city-states now.
Using the Ancient's Glove, Truman sent Hermes back to their first meeting place.
"Sorry, I might've disrupted your plans," Truman said to Sasrir.
This knowledge was the Sun God's best tool to rally human believers.
"It's your due reward," Sasrir replied, unconcerned. "A god's might is enough to inspire faith."
Hermes gained such vast occult knowledge because of Truman. As he said, Truman's name would be etched in human occult history, with countless humans anchoring his faith.
"But your abilities resemble a Miracle Invoker," Sasrir noted, glancing at the Ancient's Glove band skimming the Book of Dreams. "Be it fate or wishes."
So, they suspect I'm linked to the Lord of the Mysteries… Truman realized.
The Ancient Sun God surely saw the discord in Ouroboros's fate, deducing the Book of Dreams' effects, inevitably linking it to the Beacon of Destiny.
But Truman knew it was unrelated. He didn't deny it, just smiled.
"Why not show me your divine kingdom?" Truman was eager for the Sun God's realm, likely to meet familiar faces.
Sasrir agreed gladly, hosting a guest while slacking off.
"Yo, Sasrir, who's this? Almost as handsome as me!" Barely a few steps out, they met a red-haired knight in black armor.
Young and striking, his demeanor matched his fiery hair.
"Medici!" Sasrir chided. "He's a guest."
"Guest?" Medici raised an eyebrow, eyeing Truman provocatively, tempting a punch.
"Your acting is flawless," Truman said, sensing a mystical provocation. If two Sequence 2 angels stood before him, the red one would be the first target.
"It's not acting… It's His nature," Sasrir said helplessly.
Medici's expression shifted, noting Sasrir's regard for Truman.
Curious, he opened his mouth, but a terrifying storm interrupted.
A cataclysmic thunder, silver-white, transformed the sky above into another realm.
"Medici, you stop right there!" A voice roared like a giant. A humanoid tempest, wreathed in wind and lightning, appeared on the horizon, deep blue hair whipping in fury.
"Here we go, brother," Medici didn't flee, sidling closer to Sasrir, forcing Sasrir to deflect the thunder.
Can't let a guest get struck, right?
"Leodero, you've offended our divine kingdom's honored guest! Now, sing a song to appease his anger!"
"You!" Leodero, tall and rugged, gritted his teeth, face darkening. Even Sasrir's face twitched.
"I believe it's his nature now," Truman remarked. From that roar, he gauged Leodero's Ocean Singster level—his voice alone could be lethal.
Medici's survival owed to his strength and the Ancient Sun God's backing.
(End of Chapter)