Was he disappointed?
Of course he was. But since this outcome had already become an established fact, there was no point in brooding over it. Edward quickly adjusted his mindset and calmed his mind, focusing instead on sensing the digestion progress of the two potions.
The Wanderer's Potion had only been digested by a tiny fraction, which surprised him. After all, he had travelled back and forth between two different worlds so many times—surely that counted as some form of "wandering," didn't it? Yet apparently, it didn't.
The Deconstruction Scholar's Potion had also been partially digested, though he had no idea what specific actions had triggered the progress. Still, at least both potions no longer showed double zeroes at the start of their progress—good news, in a way.
The next step would be to summarise the acting principles for both potions as soon as possible.
Just then, a mix of high-pitched and low, distorted screams suddenly echoed beside his ears, interwoven with the grating sound of claws scraping against a door. His spirituality boiled violently at once. Countless brilliant Worms of Star wriggled out from beneath his skin, trying to tear themselves free from his body.
He struggled to clamp his hands over his ears, scanning the surroundings for the source of the noise—
An endless expanse of grayish-white fog surged into his vision.
And within that fog, he saw it directly—the ancient, majestic palace upon the grey mist.
That mysterious space trembled ever so slightly.
——
Trier.
In the Avenue du Boulevard, an old man lay under a blanket in a small wooden cabin, resting by the fireplace. He tilted his head slightly, adjusted the monocle over his right eye, and the corners of his lips lifted in amusement.
"So, it's the Sefirah Castle, hmm?"
——
Backlund.
In a villa located in the northwest of the city, Pallez Zoroast, who had been smiling as he watched his great-grandson Mobet get his ear twisted by the elven woman, suddenly froze. He turned toward the southeast, his smile fading into solemn curiosity.
"Could it be…the Chairman?"
——
At the peak of Mount Hornacis, within a secret palace.
A man with deep, ancient eyes—his face covered with short, bristling black hairs that gave him a contradictory sense of both age and youth, rationality and madness—slowly raised his head. The mania in his pupils ebbed slightly, and from deep within his throat came a faint whisper:
"Sefirah…Castle."
——
In the Spirit World.
The Seven Lights of the Spirit World flickered with desperate intensity, as though the entire plane were boiling in exultation—as though welcoming the return of the rightful Lord of the Spirit World.
——
In the Astral Realm.
Even the eternally tranquil divine kingdoms, the residences of the Seven Gods that had remained unchanged for countless years—began to ripple ever so faintly.
——
On the Primitive Island in the Fog Sea.
Layer upon layer of grotesque, inhuman corpses—kneeling in concentric circles as if in eternal worship of some god—suddenly began to twitch violently.
As if drawn by an unseen force, they slowly converged toward the centre. Their skin started to melt, and when their bodies touched, they fused together into a single mass.
After more than ten minutes, all the corpses had vanished.
At the very centre now lay a human-sized crimson flesh sphere, its surface covered with bulging veins and twisted tendons that pulsed rhythmically, faster and faster.
From within the sphere emanated a growing aura of life, accompanied by powerful, resounding heartbeats—
Thump…Thump…
Then, the crimson moon hanging in the sky deepened in colour.
Its hue thickened, its outline swelled, and within a mere second or two it had become a full moon—blood-red and terrible.
After several days of calm, the Mysteries World once again welcomed the rise of a Blood Moon.
The countless strands of scarlet moonlight scattered across the sky seemed to be drawn by some unseen force, pouring ceaselessly into the flesh sphere on the Primitive Island.
The sphere began to swell, its veins and tendons bulging grotesquely.
The thundering heartbeat within grew louder and louder—
Until—
Schhhk!
A tear split open across its surface.
Blood gushed from the rupture, and the once-swollen mass rapidly shrivelled, collapsing into a thin, sagging sheet of flesh.
After a long, eerie silence, a fist-sized bulge appeared beneath that flesh.
With a wet, squirming motion, something crawled out from under it—
It was a crimson heart.
It strained as though trying to stand upright, facing the blood moon above as if in reverence. Then, with a single roll forward, it sliced through the air—and plunged straight into the Spirit World.
———
Loen Kingdom, Midseashire County.
In one of the Abraham family's branch territories, the consecutive appearances of the Blood Moon had plunged all members who had consumed Apprentice potions and become Beyonders into unbearable agony—the higher their Sequence, the greater their suffering.
During the previous Blood Moon only a few days ago, two family members at Sequence 5 had lost control almost instantly, transforming into monstrous abominations. If they hadn't been discovered in time and annihilated using Sealed Artifacts, this entire Abraham branch might have been wiped out that very night.
And now, only days later, another Blood Moon had risen.
Was the fate deliberately trying to exterminate the Abraham family?
Amid this collective torment and despair, in a meticulously tidy room, a tall and well-proportioned girl with long, deep brown hair and blue eyes lay writhing in pain on the wooden floor. Her features bore a hint of heroic sharpness. Her fingernails had grown to grotesque lengths, scraping violently against the tables and chairs as if that could somehow lessen her agony.
But it was useless.
She could only feel her sanity being devoured bit by bit by madness; feel the grotesque transformation of her body; feel death drawing closer with every breath.
At that moment, the air before her suddenly split open with a tear, and from that rift emerged a crimson heart. Under her horrified gaze, it shot forward like a streak of red light and forced its way into her mouth, sliding down her throat and into her stomach.
"No! Stop! Don't!"
A sharp, tearing pain erupted from her abdomen. She couldn't see it, but she knew clearly that the heart had ripped through her stomach and burrowed deeper—
The next second, a searing burn flared from her left chest, as if her heart were engulfed in flames. Pain and heat spread wildly through her body. Her dark pupils turned scarlet in an instant, her body convulsing violently—yet, in contrast, the abnormal growth of her nails and the keratinisation of her skin quickly receded, as if being reversed.
"Ahhhh!!!"
A strained moan tore from her throat—and then her body froze rigidly in place.
Above, the blood-red full moon in the sky gradually receded into incompleteness once more, signalling that this Blood Moon too had come to its end.
A few minutes later, the girl's arm twitched. She pushed herself up slowly, sitting upright on the floor. Her expression was blank as she lowered her gaze, then raised her hands for a long look. A quiet murmur escaped her lips, "After going to all that trouble to create me, this is the fragile body you've given me?"
Her lips curled into a cold smile.
"And you still expect me to help you find that man?"
Her tone turned mocking as she let out a soft laugh.
"In the end, you're nothing but a lunatic driven purely by instinct, gathering everything you can touch. Since I've already freed myself from you, how could I ever return to being part of you again?"
"I should be grateful to that man, really. If not for that peculiar ability of his—if he hadn't turned your own corruption back upon you, making you conceive—how would I ever have been born?"
"In a sense…he should count as my father, shouldn't he?"
Tap, tap, tap—
Hurried footsteps approached. The door burst open, and a man in his forties or fifties rushed in, shouting anxiously, "Christine! Are you all right?!"
———
On an uninhabited island in the Berserk Sea.
After glimpsing the ancient palace above the grey fog and sensing the subtle tremor of that mysterious space, Edward felt as though he had forged some deeper, indescribable connection with the Sefirah Castle—something elusive yet undeniably real.
It was as if, at this very moment, he had truly become its master.
"But…"
Edward's expression turned strange.
"Now that the Sefriah Castle has acknowledged me as its master—what happens to Klein in the future?"
In the future he remembered, when Klein bonded with the Sefirah Castle, it had been ownerless.
He had never been interested in becoming the Lord of Mysteries, nor was he willing to bear the apocalyptic burden or risk being possessed by the Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings.
Could it be…he had already changed the future?
Or perhaps…this was actually a parallel timeline?
"No."
Edward denied the thought calmly. Whether by the "parameters" of the Time Turner or by his prior experiences in the Mysteries World, the emergence of a parallel timeline was impossible.
As for changing the future—perhaps some of his actions to digest the potions had indeed triggered unpredictable chain reactions. But those could always be covered up by "fooling" time itself.
The problem was…his next advancement ritual might involve an extremely wide scope of influence. When that happened, the resulting disturbances would be impossible to hide or reverse. That could very well lead to the collapse of the future.
Familiar people, familiar events—none of them might happen again.
Even Klein and Audrey could be affected.
The thought made him frown slightly.
"Still…I don't have a better choice. My current strength is far too weak. I must ascend to a higher Sequence as soon as possible. As for the damage this may cause, I'll just have to find ways to minimise and control it."
"If it can't be avoided…perhaps it's a necessary sacrifice."
Within seconds, all abnormalities vanished. Edward didn't linger—he ended the summoning and returned directly to the Sefirah Castle.
He hadn't even fully sat down on the bronze throne when Amon's voice rang out:
"So quick? You've already completed your advancement—congratulations."
Your Sequence now surpasses mine. How about letting me out, hmm? Then we can have a fair fight, just you and me."
"No need."
Edward's tone was cold.
"You've already become the true master of the Sefirah Castle," Amon said with a faint chuckle. "That should make my main body very happy—because now He can steal your fate, let you bear the price, and take the Castle for Himself."
"Then let's see if He has the ability to do so."
"…"
Amon fell silent for a moment. Then, adjusting his monocle, he squinted at Edward and said with mild astonishment, "Something's…off about you."
Edward raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean?"
"Normally, after reaching Sequence 3, one's humanity gradually fades away over time. But you—having just advanced—have already lost most of it. Heh, that's not normal."
"I've lost most of my humanity? Ridiculous."
Amon laughed.
"You might not believe me about many things, but when it comes to this…I'm a professional."
Edward's frown deepened.
He quickly reviewed his thoughts and actions since advancing to Sequence 3—and indeed, he noticed something off.
He was too rational.
Normally, rationality wasn't a bad thing. But when it came to humanity, especially in the world of Mysteries, excessive rationality often meant one thing—the thinning of one's human nature.
Could Amon actually be right?
But why would this happen?
…Wait. Could it be a side effect of using "Madman to the Right" to inject humanity into Amon?
Amon gained humanity—
And I lost mine?
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.