Inside Saint Samuel Cathedral.
Seeing Miss Messenger stride out while carrying four remarkably beautiful heads by their hair, Klein quickly said, "Miss Messenger, I need your help."
Reinette's eight crimson eyes fixed on him. "You may…ask." "I want ten thousand—" "…gold coins."
"..."
"Deal!"
Reinette drifted through the cathedral wall and arrived at the square outside, just in time to see the Cyclops wreaking havoc in a frenzy. Her figure turned translucent, phantasmal—then, in an instant, appeared directly within the giant's single eye.
The Cyclops stiffened at once, gradually losing control of his own body. But he soon let out an enraged roar; a short, slender silver sword materialised in his hand, glowing with a purifying power that restrained wraiths. He drove it straight into his own chest.
Reinette immediately performed a mirror blink, exiting Ince Zangwill's body. Her form then swelled abruptly, expanding into a massive, castle-sized doll wearing a gloomy, intricately layered gown, its body bound by thick vines. Strange, obscure words flowed from its mouth as her red eyes reflected the Cyclops' image.
Silently, faint radiance rose from the Cyclops' body—then he turned into a fluffy white rabbit. In Reinette's hand appeared a rabbit doll, into which she poured curse and malice.
"Ah!!!"
The enormous rabbit let out a deep, guttural howl. Its fur rapidly shed away, exposing ashen-blue skin once again—Ince Zangwill was forcefully breaking free of the curse. At the same time, a new Sword of Dawn condensed in his hand, and he stabbed it fiercely downward into the ground.
The colossal blade shattered, exploding into countless fragments of dawn-like light. Densely packed, numberless, they gathered into a flickering, violent, razor-sharp hurricane that swept forward.
If left unchecked, a massive portion of the entire North Borough would be wiped clean by this single strike!
Medici, who had been responsible for holding back Anthony, abruptly disengaged and gestured invitingly. "Let's call a two-minute truce. Hurry and help the 'Headless One.'"
"..."
Anthony frowned at Him, filled with questions, but knew this wasn't the time to delay. He transformed into darkness and rushed toward the oncoming hurricane to intercept it.
Reinette, in her towering doll form, opened her stitched mouth toward the Cyclops and released a soul-piercing scream, attempting to interrupt his strike—but after remaining in a mythical creature for so long, Ince Zangwill had already begun to lose his sanity.
His mind now held only one thought: destroy everything he saw.
Meanwhile, Klein—still hiding inside the cathedral—quickly rewound four steps and entered the grey fog. He picked up a silver-grey charm and injected spirituality into it, igniting a pitch-black glow.
Klein surged to his feet, yanked his shoulder back, and flung out his right arm.
"Misfortune!"
The black radiance released by the Misfortune Charm blended with a portion of the power stirred within the grey fog. Klein hurled it into the scene he watched through the mist—straight toward the Cyclops that Ince Zangwill had become.
The moment he finished, Klein immediately left the grey fog and returned to reality, once again manipulating Qonas' marionette to launch an attack at the Cyclops—
He failed to notice that a faint stream of pale grayish-white mist flowed like water into the Traveler marionette beside him. The puppet's previously dull, lifeless eyes suddenly gained clarity and awareness.
It stretched its limbs, then leapt out of the cathedral, hovering invisibly in midair. Fixing its gaze on the increasingly frenzied Cyclops, the ancient gears within its eyes turned counterclockwise.
"Regression."
Almost simultaneously, just as the giant's fist smashed apart Reinette's doll form, his body froze violently. After a brief tremor, he shrank rapidly, exiting his mythical creature state and quickly reverting to Ince Zangwill's human form.
The madness in his gaze receded swiftly, replaced by confusion—and shock.
His Sequence had fallen all the way to Sequence 4, and was still plummeting!
Ince Zangwill had no idea what had just happened, but he knew one thing clearly—he was absolutely no match for the two of them now. Without hesitation, he activated his sealed artifact, attempting to step into the spirit world and escape.
But the crimson flowers around him, the pure-white fountain, and the pitch-black floor patterns—none of them deepened in colour, much less overlapped with one another.
The "Spirit World Traversal" ability of Ince Zangwill's sealed artifact had failed!
"Lord Red Angel, take me with you!"
He immediately called out for Medici. Medici clicked His tongue, then surged toward Ince in a blaze of flames—bound by the constraints of the contract, He had no choice but to comply.
But right then, Anthony blocked Medici's path, a faint smile appearing on his face. "My lord, this time, it's my turn to stop you."
"Hah! Then come at me!"
Seeing Medici hindered by Anthony, Ince Zangwill turned into a streak of light and slipped into the luminous glow, descending into the underground in an attempt to escape unnoticed.
But "Qonas," who had been watching him intently, would never let that happen. He twisted Ince's movements and thoughts, forcing him back out of the ground.
Ince Zangwill attempted the same trick again—only for his body to freeze abruptly. Reinette's figure appeared within his lone eye, and he completely lost control of his own body.
Seizing the opportunity, Chunas closed in. Several coins shot out from his hand, strengthened by the powers of Exploit, Magnify, and Distortion. With one blow, he blasted Ince Zangwill's head into a shower of red and white, then further distorted the mortal wound, ensuring his death.
Chrrk!
Chrrk!
Chrrk!
The headless body lay on the ground—yet its flesh once again swelled outward. At the very instant Ince Zangwill's Sequence climbed back to Sequence 3, he used his final sliver of remaining consciousness to re-enter a mythical creature state, relying on the unimaginable vitality that divinity granted.
Bang!
A streak of silver-black light flashed across the air, solidifying into a bullet that struck the half-formed head just as it was regenerating. A faint glow dispersed across the wound, freezing Ince Zangwill in place. Even the resurgence of his vitality and the expansion of his mythical form halted completely.
It was a Spirit-Control Bullet, crafted using Worms of Time.
The next moment, Klein, Leonard, Qonas, and the long-hidden Daly all charged forward together, unleashing every ability and attack they could muster.
With several whooshes, a handful of Tarot Cards flew out, landing beside Ince Zangwill and igniting. Using the flames as an anchor, Klein fire-jumped forward, pressed the barrel of his revolver toward Ince's body, and pulled the trigger again and again.
He did not speak those chilling, striking lines he had once uttered in the original timeline—he simply fired, coldly, almost mechanically, maintaining relentless control over Ince Zangwill so that Qonas could continue using Distortion to twist every one of his wounds into a fatal one.
Boom!
The accumulated damage erupted all at once like a breached dam. Ince Zangwill's head burst apart like a watermelon falling from a great height; fragments and juices splattered everywhere. But because he was a mythic creature, the chunks of flesh and blood still retained a certain degree of vitality.
Only when Leonard reached out and grabbed toward them—borrowing Pallez Zoroast's power to use Theft—did he strip the flesh of all its lingering vitality. Klein then crushed what remained into powder through yet another Distortion.
And at that moment, Ince Zangwill finally met his true end.
Almost simultaneously, Klein felt the remaining potion of the Marionettist completely digest. The ritual for advancement also reached its final step.
Without the slightest hesitation, Klein swiftly produced the materials he had long prepared. Guided by his spirituality, he fused them together with practised speed, poured the mixture into a small metal vial, and completed the potion of the Bizarro Sorcerer.
The cold liquid slid down his throat, bringing with it faint numbness—not only to his body, but deep into the recesses of his soul. His consciousness trembled.
Over the long period that followed, Klein descended into unending pain and struggle.
Fragments of memory passed before him like a revolving lantern—laughter and tears, hope and despair, everything he had ever experienced intertwined. Under the dual torture of agony and remembrance, both body and soul underwent a profound metamorphosis, completing the leap from human to half-human, half-god.
He successfully became a Sequence 4 Bizarro Sorcerer.
A long while later, Klein slowly opened his eyes. A deep, newly forged resolve lay within them—one honed by transformation.
He looked at Leonard, Daly, and Archbishop Anthony. Then he stepped back half a pace, made the sign of the Night at his chest, bowed deeply, and vanished in a bloom of flames.
Leonard instinctively reached out, lips parting as if to call after him—but no words emerged. He could only let out a long, weary sigh. A faint sadness and helplessness flickered in his eyes.
He knew.
Many things would never return to the way they once were.
Meanwhile—at a window in some unnoticed room—stood a priest in a simple robe, his eyes a pale gold. He quietly lowered the cross in his hand, gaze calm and unfathomably deep.
———
Above the grey fog, Klein spent over ten minutes familiarising himself with the abilities of a Trickmaster. Leaning back against the bronze chair, he gazed at the vast, ancient palace. Yet his heart was filled with confusion.
That transmigrator girl once told him that he would learn the truth after becoming a demigod.
But now he was a Bizarro Sorcerer.
So—where was the truth?
Was he supposed to wait until that girl came again and told him everything?
No.
It wasn't that.
Klein lifted his gaze toward the depths of the mysterious space above the grey fog—toward the staircase of light that led like a path to heaven. In the diary page The Moon, Emlyn had given him during the last Tarot Gathering, it was written that the diary's owner had left everything in the depths of that mysterious space.
So as long as he ascended those steps—stepped into the deepest point—he would know everything?
And what exactly was "everything"?
Klein rose and strode toward the depths of the grey fog, his footsteps heavy. For some reason, fear welled quietly within him.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
He ascended the sixth layer of stairs—the level belonging to giants—and reached the end where condensed grey clouds gathered. Then he leapt forward, landing atop the cloud-like mist.
What entered his sight was a magnificent door of brilliance, tinged faintly with greenish-black. It was formed from innumerable overlapping spheres of light. And within each sphere were tightly packed clusters of wriggling, twisted worms—some transparent, some semi-translucent.
From the top of that radiant gate hung countless thin black threads. Each thread suspended an almost fully transparent "cocoon."
The cocoons swayed gently. Each encased a different soul—some dark-skinned, some yellow-skinned, some white. Some wore jeans, some held mobile phones, some were dressed in bright colours, some had striking features. All of them bore the breath of life, yet their eyes remained tightly shut.
Klein's gaze froze.
For a moment, he felt as though he had returned to Earth, walking down a street full of people of all races.
Then he noticed—Three of the cocoons were broken open.
Empty.
Swaying gently.
Klein trembled. A vague guess surfaced in his mind.
Was this…the truth behind everything?
In that instant, madness surged in his spirit—yet he forcibly drew his consciousness back, closing his eyes to steady himself.
A long time passed.
He reopened them, organising his thoughts rapidly, and slowly approached the three broken cocoons—only to be stopped by the radiant gate. He could go no further.
Three cocoons.
Three transmigrators.
But the number didn't match what he knew.
The Evernight Goddess, Emperor Roselle, and himself already made three.
Then what about the girl from the Symeem Island?
What about the other diary entries he had seen?
Fine—even if all those diary entries belonged to that girl, that still made at least four transmigrators.
So why were there only—
Klein's thoughts stopped abruptly.
He rubbed his eyes, stunned.
Impossible.
Impossible!
A second ago, there had clearly been only three broken cocoons—
So…why...why had they suddenly become four?
———
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