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Chapter Text

Very strange, Zhou Mingrui thought. It was a tame thought, very unlike her (Him) and the scenario she (He) was in. 

The world was crumbling before her (Him) as the sun set over the horizon.

Metal buildings were being demolished, breaking apart. Some were even ripped from the ground or eviscerated completely. Trees were uprooted, cut, torn down. The birds dropped like rain, splattering on the ground. The people were dropping to the floor ridiculously, as if they were puppets that had lost their strings. 

“Ah.” She (He) spoke, impulsively, staring at the scene with an inhuman indifference as she (He) felt a rush of strange deja vu. “That is what’s happening, isn’t it?” 

She (He) looked up at the sky. The moon’s silver glow was being overtaken, corroded from the source as an ocean of crimson washed over it. The stars in the sky remained passive, but some in particular shined brighter more than ever. She (He) found himself compelled to one purple one in particular, just for a moment, before she (He) glanced back down. 

When she (He) glanced back down, she (He) saw the monocle-wearing driver, looking at her (Him) with a strange smile on his face. Unlike the rest of the individuals there, he did not crumble like a ragdoll, and instead disappeared behind a gray fog.

Gray fog—was surrounding everything, closing in on Zhou Mingrui specifically. Rather quickly, too. In front of Zhou Mingrui, she (He) saw something shine behind it, but it was far too foggy to make out what it was. 

Zhou Mingrui didn’t have the opportunity to even be surprised, or feel fear. Perhaps, she (He) was never going to feel those things at all. 

And then, “He,” Klein Moretti, fell into darkness.

Klein Moretti opened His eyes to an abyss, almost to His disappointment. A void of inky darkness—save for Himself, and one other individual. 

The other individual, in question, wore a black robe that covered all parts of their body except “His” bony, pale hands. Long, black hair flowed out of the robes’ cowl, hanging by “His” knees. “He” muttered words that were too low for Klein to hear, and muttered them in a language that Klein could not understand—He, Klein Moretti, realized that it has been a while since He’s heard a language He was unfamiliar with. 

Klein watched “Him” pace around, circling Klein repeatedly, once, twice, thrice… The lack of noise caused the sound of “His” steps to echo against the floor (at least, what could be considered the floor, as it was far too voided and dark to look distinct from the rest of Klein’s surroundings). 

And then, “He,” the figure, stopped, and looked over at Klein Moretti and opened “His” mouth, speaking in a much calmer, indifferent tone than what Klein expected. 

“Annoying.” “He” said, calmly. “Annoy- ance. ” “He” corrected, satisfied. “That is the word for this. Annoyance.” 

For an instant, ravings screamed in Klein’s head. He thought He was going to collapse and perish, before it was quiet once more. Not even Evernight’s voice caused ravings like this when He heard them before He was a demigod. 

This was simply the might of an Outer Deity, or perhaps, the might of The Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth—The Almighty Ruler Of The Spirit World—The Lord Of The Mysteries.

Klein stayed silent, watching “Him” as “He” turned “His” head to meet Klein’s eyes with “His” own; yellow, terrifyingly indifferent eyes glowed beneath the cowl, as if “He”  was looking at an ant on a sidewalk. In contrast, the pupils were as dark as a starless night. Perhaps it was the one similarity “He” and Klein had. 

“I thought that would work…” The Celestial Worthy said, feeble remnants of frustrating lacing “His” voice. Ravings echoed in Klein’s head, but He was prepared for it. “Yes, I was hoping it would…” 

Then, The Celestial Worthy turned “His” head away, staring off into the void. “Not used to this happening… not used to these feelings… ” 

“He” continued. “These feelings, emotions… they do not belong to me,” “He” stopped, and turned back to Klein, “His” golden eyes piercing Klein’s voided black. The ravings intensified tenfold, and Klein thought He died right there. 

“Do they belong—to you?” The Celestial Worthy asked, bringing Klein back into… whatever this place They were in. Not reality, at least.

Klein stared back at “Him,” almost unable to acknowledge the question as the ravings slowly died down. The Celestial Worthy waited patiently, watching Him, or perhaps someone of “His” longevity in life didn’t perceive such a wait as a long time at all. 

Eventually, the ravings died down into mutterings, and the two individuals were left staring at one another. Klein pondered the question, not finding it too difficult to answer. 

“Perhaps…” Klein began, shrinking back a bit as He looked at The Celestial Worthy, “...perhaps you may have been influenced by me, to some degree.” Klein looked at The Celestial Worthy, suddenly finding His voice more resolute. “And perhaps, I may have been influenced by you, to some degree.” 

The question hung in the air, a deafening silence. The tension didn’t allow Klein to relax, and before He knew it, the area shook, and the void around them began to crack as gray fog seeped through. 

Slowly, a smile crept onto The Celestial Worthy’s face, widening more and more and more as “His” teeth maddeningly sparkled behind the cowl. 

“Yes.” “He” said, finding himself amused, almost joyous. Pieces of the void began to fall, revealing a castle hidden behind the fog. “Yes. That is the answer, isn’t it?” 

And then, the void shattered, and Klein felt darkness take hold of him once again. 

Klein awoke, once more, and found the Earth in front of Him. The geography was warped, different from His memory of earth before the cataclysm, before the Original Creator awoke from the core. Some places split off, conjoined with others, while some were missing altogether. 

His eyes softened, and His lips pressed together into a pathetic line. His eyes twitched, as if trying to coax out tears, but none were provoked. He accepted this truth a very long time ago. 

Then, in the moment He began to turn away from Earth, He felt gazes upon Him, a multitude. Strong, fierce, volatile. The gradual indifference that comes with godhood wasn’t there at all. The Great Old Ones. 

There were a multitude of them; more Great Old Ones than Klein was aware of, seemingly. 

Klein mused. If gazes could kill, then He would have been obliterated on the spot!

… 

But gazes, from gods especially, could kill, and Klein got to know that very well over the last few years.

Then, Klein realized, that He was not on Earth. The barrier that the Original Creator left behind in “His” will was not protecting him from them. So why are they not attacking Him?

“Because they cannot.” 

Klein whirled His head to His side to see the Celestial Worthy standing next to Him, “His” gaze penetrating to the Earth’s core. “His” cowl flowed in the empty space They stood in. 

Klein turned away, staring at the Earth with “Him.” 

“This is another illusion, then?” Klein probed. “Or, perhaps, I am still dreaming?”

The Celestial Worthy stayed silent. Such a question did not warrant an obvious answer from “Him”

Klein found his lips curling up. “The Outer Deities don’t seem too happy with this dream.” 

“Of course.” The Celestial Worthy spoke. “This is the greatest disrespect.” 

Klein hummed, briefly turning around to face the stars. It was a mockery, in fact. To pretend to be in Their range of violence, unprotected like this, when They are itching to begin an apocalypse. Perhaps, only someone of The Celestial Worthy’s ability would have the audacity to perform such a stunt.

“Did you use the Historical Void to pull this off?” Klein asked “Him.”

The Celestial Worthy did not answer, and then the dream shook.

  The Earth disappeared; the entire solar system did, in fact, and Their surroundings were replaced with a sea of stars, much closer than before. 

Klein felt Himself get pulled down by gravity, before abruptly feeling a surface beneath Him. He looked down to see a path of light, extending an unknown difference in opposite directions. 

He looked to his right to see The Celestial Worthy; “His” posture did not change, his body unmoved in any capacity. Then, he began walking along the path, away from Klein. 

Klein, having nothing better to do, followed. 

Chapter Text

Klein wasn’t too surprised that the Celestial Worthy was susceptible to emotional influence. At the very least, “He” was born out of the Primordial One’s personality—The same with God Almighty. 

At the very least, “He” was familiar with emotional concepts, but it was likely that “He” had simply forgotten the feelings that came with them as “He” continued to exist for long periods of time. 

With that said, Klein couldn’t quite figure out why They were walking like this. 

Even if time did not necessarily exist here, if They were to use it as a perceived basis, They have been walking for at least two years worth of time. Even if Klein himself understood that as a “long time,” it certainly didn’t feel that way for Him, and definitely not for “Him.” Klein didn’t wanna think about how the time spent in this dream translated out into the real world, either.

At some point, the Great Old Ones stopped staring, and Their anger vanished. Some still glanced over to look at Them, but, generally, They went back to focusing on the real world. Klein couldn’t say that He missed it. 

 Klein stopped pondering it, lest He receive the gaze of one for a moment, and He turned to look at the Celestial Worthy once more. 

“He” was walking, his body as straight as an arrow. “He” moved slowly, a melodic tempo of steps that echoed in empty space. “His” robe would sometimes rustle with the movement of (what Klein thought to be) “His” hands. 

Klein pursed His lips. They were making no real progress, and only boredom arose. If this was The Celestial Worthy’s plan to get Him to give in, it certainly was working to some degree. 

That being said, it was time for someone to say something, and Klein decided He was gonna be the one to do it. He sighed and opened His mouth. 

“So—” 

“I don’t quite understand.” 

Klein froze. His jaw hung open in a way only a fish could truly imitate, a bit stupefied, really. 

“The value you seem to hold on these…” The Celestial Worthy trailed off. For the first time in two years worth of time, Klein saw The Celestial Worthy’s hand—as bony and pale as before—reach over “His” head to scratch some sort of itch behind “His” cowl. “... things. These people. ” 

The Celestial Worthy stopped moving. “He” turned “His” head to the side of the light path, looking down into an abyss of distanced stars. “His” hand that was scratching the cowl gripped it as it pulled the cowl back, revealing a long mane of raven black hair, and a rather young, pale face that seemed on the verge of breaking into middle-age, the at the brink of its' youthfulness.  “His” vibrant, gold eyes flickered in Kleins direction. 

“We are above them—we have achieved something of extraordinaire phenomena.” The Celestial Worthy continued, a bit more agitated than Klein could have reasonably imagined. 

“Why do they matter—to you? They will be dead, they will perish someday. We are eternal as we are space and time. The erosion of time will not affect us. We will remain.

“Confusing, confusing… Not even Amanises was like this. Like you. I could understand that Emperor. He was around for too long, created too much, including life. He had things that an insect like him could not leave behind… 

“But you… you’re different. You moved as quick as you could, never tried to get too attached, never tried to stick around for too long. Even if you did get attached, you knew you could let go.” The Celestial Worthy spoke, sighing at the end. "His" voice was laced with an eerie calmness that barely bordered on agitation. “I do not understand. You did this to me, made me curious, made me think. Now I care, and now I ask you— why? ” 

Klein stood there, stupefied. He looked around for a moment, staring at the stars, and then at the path of light that stretched beneath the soles of Their feet. 

Slowly, He raised His arm, His hand curling in slightly, and then He turned it. 

Their surroundings changed. The stars turned, shifted, the path of light closed, and the dream changed.

The Lord Of The Mysteries wasn’t surprised in the slightest. In fact, “He” scoffed, as if Klein should’ve been able to figure out that He could do this too. 

Klein was humble enough to admit that, yes, He probably should have. 

The Celestial Worthy didn’t bother to look around at first, for whatever Klein came up with was something “He” has seen or thought of a thousand times over. 

With that said, however… 

“This…” The Celestial Worthy began, utterly baffled and, almost, amused, “is unbecoming of a god, let alone a pillar of the universe…” 

The land stretched infinitely. Rather than light, they now stood upon a dirty, roughened and grainy road of what would be a countryside, surrounded by patches of both short and tall grass and, occasionally, a variety of flowers—though, mostly daffodils and roses of red and white.

Their only source of light was the moon, silver in color, no longer drenched in horrid crimson (It was the only thing the Celestial Worthy looked at with a sense of nostalgia—Klein looked at it with a rather embarrassing smile that neither of Them felt the urge to bring up), along with the countless stars that filled the voided space with their light. 

Klein began to walk. This time, it was The Lord Of The Mysteries that followed quietly, but not nearly as meek. Klein didn’t intend to make “Him” wait two years. 

“That is true,” Klein said, “That they are beneath me. It is also true that I will outlive them, and thousands of others, along the way.

“It is true that I have left next to nothing. That I moved too fast to create any true impact. They may very well forget about me one day, either as The Fool, or Klein Moretti, or Gehrmann Sparrow—or as all of them, and I think I would be fine with that. 

“I will live long enough to watch stars be born and watch them perish. I will live long enough to witness this world erode. I will live long enough to watch the Universe fade into nothingness.” 

Klein stopped speaking, and for a moment only the sounds of His footsteps echoed, until they stopped too as they turned along with the rest of His body. 

The Celestial Worthy stopped as well, and looked up to meet Klein’s ridiculous, solemn, twitching smile.

“I may also live long enough to witness the exact moment time will end… No, the moment time becomes meaningless. When all of creation perishes except I, only leaving an empty space behind…” 

Klein swung back around, and raised His arms to the air as He gazed upon the thousands of stars, and said with all of the conviction He could: 

“But—!” 

He opened His mouth to continue speaking, but found no words being voiced, as they were replaced by choked, ugly howls that should have been sobs… He wondered, silently, why this was something He was getting so worked up for; in front of a universal pillar, no less. 

In times like this, He, very much so, missed His personal psychiatrist—though, of course, she was Mr. World’s psychiatrist, and not Mr. Fool’s…

Nevertheless, He used cogitation to calm Himself, even if minimally, and He bended His elbows back and palmed His face gently in case any worms began to seep out, before shooting His arms back into the open air, His hands opened to the sky. Unwept tears glistened at the corners of His eyes as the starlight shined upon Him, like He was performing in a Shakespearean tragedy—or, alternatively, a Rosellian tragedy, if such a word existed in this world.

“But I can pretend,” He spoke after a moment, “pretend that they are eternal, that they will last longer than moments. That their time will not pass by me like dust in the wind. 

“We are gods. We come and go and will continue to exist above all, but these worlds will not last. They are fleeting… but I can pretend. I can dream .”

Klein stopped speaking, and His arms fell and hung low, His shoulders drooping as did His head, before He sighed, deciding to ignore the very amused grin on The Celestial Worthy’s face. “...That fleeting existence of a world is all I have left.” 

The Celestial Worthy watched and listened silently, a strange grin spread across his face, and that silence echoed across the grassy, flowery plains and across the cosmos where the silver moon led.

Chapter Text

 They stood there for a while, and eventually, the stars in the sky stopped shining, the grasses and flowers withered and broke, and the ground beneath them cracked, and it all shattered with the creak of a door, putting them both back into the voided darkness, now accompanied by gray fog. 

  Quickly, The Celestial Worthy’s grin straightened back into a blank face, and eventually, Klein’s head raised as He sighed out, plastering a ridiculous smile on His face. 

  “Well,” Klein mused, lavishly raising his arms behind his head as he turned to look at The Celestial Worthy within the corner of his eye, “that was quite thera...peutic…”

  Klein’s eyes widened a little as He watched The Celestial Worthy.

  The Celestial Worthy stayed silent, unable to acknowledge Klein’s confused gaze as “He” stood as still as a weeping angel, save for “His” eyes, which were sporadically moving as “He” seemed to eye every detail of the gray fog, visibly alarmed. 

  “Wrong…” The Celestial Worthy whispered, almost hissing. “His” teeth, shining and sharp, grit and grind against one another as “His” bony and pale hand gripped “His” own jaw. “Wrong… Wrong… Wrong…” 

  A sudden pressure hit the voided space, and Klein felt Himself crashing into the perceived ground as The Celestial Worthy kept muttering. 

  “Wrong… Wrong… Wrong… Wrong… Wrong… Wrong… Wrong… Wrong… Wrong… Wrong… Wrong… Wrong… Wrong…” 

  Klein felt ravings echoing in His mind again, and acted quickly to subdue them—but they screamed and wailed in His head, undauntingly loud and maddening. It was unlike anything He’s ever experienced before—The inner, subdued madness within The Lord Of The Mysteries. 

He clutched His face and felt worms crawling as he fell to his knees, His head splitting. His ravenous eyes bulged with worms and His mouth spilt worms and then His head split apart like a vase being dropped to the ground. 

His head split into seven pieces—a piece of nighthawk’s face; a fog-shrouded piece of god’s face; a piece of a detective’s face; a piece of a fog-shrouded blessed’s face; a piece of an adventurer’s face; a piece of a tycoon’s face; a piece of a magician’s face…  

“Well, isn’t this—” “—Yes, but—” “—But what? You—” “—Are me, and I—” “—Am myself, why—” “—Is this happening—” “—To us—...” 

For a moment, all pieces co-existed, and tried to communicate, and understand, but then the pressure stopped and ravings ceased, causing them to snap back together at the neck back into Klein’s dazed face.

Klein, slowly, wobbled to His feet, shaking His head as He calmed Himself in a stupor, the worms merging back into His body. He raised His head to gaze at The Celestial Worthy. 

“His” hand was outstretched, submerged in the gray fog in a closed fist, “His” mutterings long forgotten as “His” eyes glazed over the fog as “He” breathed shallow breaths, a hint of both embarrassment and astonishment in each exhale. 

Klein was confused, His mind still occupied with The Celestial Worthy’s previous mutterings. Wrong, wrong, wrong… 

He wondered, what could be wrong? What has gone wrong? What mistake occurred? What error— 

The Celestial Worthy’s glazed eyes widened in an instant, and his fist snapped open, creating a massive shockwave. 

Klein felt Himself trip over as He got pushed, but He stabilized His feet before He could embarrassingly fall over. The Celestial Worthy’s robe was blown back, “His” hooded cowl snapping back and unshadowing “His” face.

The fog was blown away, dissipating into the further regions of the voided space—save for one, specific piece of gray fog. 

The one gray fog was shaped as a human male. The top of it was shaped like a pointed hat. The fog formed a foggy coat around the fog body. The head of the foggy body was shaped broad and thin. Its mouth formed an amused grin and its eyes stared straight at the ones that the Celestial Worthy bore behind a monocle—the only part of the visage that wasn’t formed out of fog, and Klein’s mouth gaped open like a fish before he snapped it shut and looked at it warily.

“I didn’t know a pillar could…” The foggy visage spoke mockingly. His voice echoed within the voided space. “... react like that.” 

The Celestial Worthy stayed silent, “His” eyes glazed over the visage before “He” raised his hand, “His” palm facing “His” face as “He” looked at it with drooping eyelids. 

“...Neither did I.” “He” whispered after a moment, “His” eyes softening as “He” seemed to reminisce. 

The visage and Klein watched The Celestial Worthy silently. Eventually, “He” raised his head to form eye contact with the visage again. 

“The Blasphemer,” The Celestial Worthy said, “His” voice and face returning back to its eerie calmness. 

The visage smiled. “That is how some individuals refer to me.” 

Then, the visage of the blasphemer turned His head to Klein. His smile seemed to widen as His foggy legs walked towards Klein with wide strides, before He stopped and snapped His body together in a soldier stance in front of Him.

“Mr. Fool.” He greeted, waving His hand beside His face. 

“Amon,” Klein responded with a level of stoicness He wasn’t used to having. “Or should I refer to you as Mr. Error?” 

“I’m only a Trojan Horse Of Destiny, now.” He answered. 

Silence overtook the space once more, an unspoken tension now lingered within the void. Amon decided to be the one to break the silence, His smile uncurling ever so slightly.

“It looks like you escaped that dream.” He said. “And then you were put into another one.”

“I suppose so.” Klein affirmed.

“You know—”

Before Amon could continue the conversation, Klein waved His hand swiftly, and the foggy visage blew away, save for the monocle that dropped to the perceived ground. 

A moment later, Ringed worms crawled out of the cracks and edges of the monocle, and slowly began to form a body that Klein was more used to seeing. 

“Well,” Amon said, smiling once more, the foggy visage now more akin to an avatar of His own, “that was quite—” 

“Your Error Beyonder characteristic?” Klein probed, cutting him off. 

Amon stayed silent for a moment, His face going blank before the smile returned. “Yeah.” 

Klein didn’t respond, appraising Him, before he sighed and turned around, walking away from Amon, more relaxed than before.

“You know,” Amon said towards Klein’s back, deciding to continue the earlier topic. “That dream of yours was quite interesting.” 

“Was it?” 

“Yeah.” Amon said. A very awkward conversation this was. “How do you feel about becoming a woman?” 

“It wasn’t the first time.”

“Is that so?” Amon mused. “You’ve been in a lot of conflicts with Demonesses. Is it because you’ve always been interested in becoming a woman?” 

“No.” 

Amon didn’t ask anything further, concluding that Klein wasn’t willing to have a conversation with Him right now, and turned towards The Celestial Worthy. “Outer Gods seem to have quite a hold on dreams, no?” 

The Celestial Worthy didn’t respond. 

Amon continued, “From what I know, The Fool is quite adept at handling his own dreams, yet even you threw him for a loop.” 

The Celestial Worthy remained silent, watching Amon curiously. Amon stared back. It was so awkward that even Klein felt a snicker rise out of Him. Such awkwardness was unlike The Celestial Worthy. Unlike an Outer God. Unlike a Pillar. 

The Celestial Worthy almost sneered when “He” realized how deep the influence went. “Virtually, dreams are the only way we can interact with lesser existences. A lot of them don’t bother with it.”

Amon hummed. “Is it the absurdity of dreams itself?” 

“Yes.” “He” answered. 

Amon nodded, satisfied, and silence returned. Klein felt his lips twitching. He really wasn’t liking the silence, but He wanted to know why Amon decided to show, and so He decided to endure it. 

Amon, seeing as He was the middleman for the interactions, decided to speak up once more. “You guys talk a lot—about interesting things.” 

And then, He turned to Klein once more. “Did you mean it, what you said?” 

Klein raised an eyebrow. “About what?” 

Amon grinned. “You know. You got quite emotional over it.” 

Klein clicked His tongue, His eyes narrowing. The Celestial Worthy raised “His” head ever so slightly, finding “Himself” suddenly interested. 

“I—...” Klein began, pursing His lips for a moment before continuing. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

Amon nodded. “It’s interesting. A very strange thought process.” He raised his hand, rubbing his index finger with his thumb. “Self-deceiving; Self-deluding.” He blinked. It was the first time He blinked since He made Himself known. “You would’ve made for a great Marauder.” 

Klein stayed silent, waiting for Him to continue. Amon obliged, his smile widening.

“Would you still say that in a hundred years from now?” 

Klein froze like a statue, His eyes widening. He felt worms of spirit crawl beneath His eyes and under His fingernails and up his arm. 

Amon continued, “what about in a thousand? Two thousand?” He questioned, probing with a genuine curiosity that bordered excessiveness. “What about when everyone dies? When you’re left all alone then, one of the last few living existences to remain?” 

Klein remained silent, His widened eyes slowly dropped into a blank stare, deep in thought. 

Amon observed Klein silently, ignoring The Celestial Worthy’s amused gaze before finally asking, “would you still feel that way?”

  Klein knew why Amon asked such a question. You must sacrifice in order to gain, and Godhood was no exception. It is the foundation that takes the human soul, and the time that passes is what chips at anything Godhood did not destroy in its wake. 

… 

It was an irritating question. Klein knew it was purely asked to provoke a reaction and nothing more, but He pondered, regardless. 

Minutes passed. Perhaps hours did, too. Klein didn’t know how warped His perception of time had gone. He decided it wasn’t worth lampooning over. 

He looked up at Amon. His black voided eyes glinted and His mouth broadened in a smile as He said, “I don’t know.” 

Amon’s mouth twitched. The eye behind His monocle shook at such shamelessness.

  “I suppose that’s not a bad answer. You can’t know the future, after all.” 

“No, you can’t.” Klein said, shaking his head. The foolish, almost mocking smile never left his face. “But I like to think that I would.” 

  A very deafening, absurd silence echoed. 

Amon stared at Klein for a moment, almost baffled. “Is… that so?” 

“Yes.”

“...I see.”

Klein stared back at Amon. The shine in His monocle seemed to mask the eye that was behind it. 

  Then, Amon turned away, His hand reached to His chin ae He thought, His feet moving awkwardly, pacing around the room as He nodded His head absent-mindedly, not intimidated by the two gazes that bore into His psyche.

  The tip of His hat swayed in those nods, the tail ends of His coat dragged. Then, He opened His eyes and said, “I see.” 

  Amon walked away from both The Celestial Worthy and Klein, creating a trifecta between them as He looked around the voided space, seeming to look for something. 

  “When I was born, I was born straight into godhood. A Sequence 1 characteristic of my pathway, along with the Uniqueness.” Amon eyed the black gloves that Klein wore. “I’ve never known humanity; my father neither encouraged it or vanquished it, and my curiosity never ventured towards it. 

  “When I looked at humans, I saw very weak, very pathetic creatures. That hasn’t changed, in fact. Emotional, reckless, unremarkable existences. Perhaps that’s what made them so fun to mess with, though…” 

  Then, Amon looked right at Klein, a glint of irritation in His eyes that Klein wasn’t used to. 

  “The fact that I lost to you should be considered a sham; a fluke, or perhaps my greatest failure. If I lived in a traditional, noble family that prided itself on beyonders, I would’ve been outcast as a black sheep because I lost to a human who liked to play God… 

  “Well, even if that would be the case, I don’t think I would’ve cared. When I lost, I wanted to understand why I lost to a human being—why a human was the one to defeat me…”

  Amon turned to fully face Klein, the irritation in his eyes softening as he sighed. The mocking smile that was usually plastered on his face straightened out. 

  “I suppose I have my answer now.” 

  Klein blinked, and Amon was gone. In His place stood a Monocle standing upright as ringed worms dissolved around it. 

  Then, He saw darkness.

Chapter Text

The sound of a door echoed, and Klein opened His eyes again, widening them before closing them in apparent agony. It was bright, too bright, and He could see that as the darkness in His eyelids brightened before He brought His arm up and over His face for a moment, covering His eyes with His forearm. 

He sat like that for a moment, lampooning. He wondered if The Celestial Worthy shoved Him next to the sun in this next dream. He sighed and opened His eyes behind His arm, and slowly moved His arm out of the way, letting the light plague His vision little by little as His eyes got used to it. 

Only then did He take note of the sounds He was hearing. He heard children laughing and winds whistling, and He also heard indistinct chattering and cars driving. The sounds of leaves on branches, rustling in the wind, made His eyes snap open, slamming His arm to the side of the ground (that caused a momentary cry of pain) and sat up. 

He saw tall, monumental buildings. He saw people in modern casual wear and dress suits. He saw children playing on colorful play structures. He saw birds gliding through the skies. He saw teenagers on their cell phones and reading. He saw dogs on leashes and— 

Klein brought his hand up to his body and face. He was still wearing the frock coat of The Fool, and He was not wearing the glasses that Zhou Mingrui wore. The realization almost made Him cry as He brought His hand back up to His face and laid down on the ground again as He collected His thoughts. 

He rubbed and pawed His face for a moment, before eventually lowering His hands, spreading His arms and legs across the ground as if He was trying to make a snow angel as He stared blankly at the sky for a moment. Nobody seemed to take mind of Him as they walked past. 

“It’s like I don’t exist…” He mused as he sat back up and started to stand again. He looked at the world around Him and then looked at Himself, seeing as to how strange He looked in comparison—an individual who belonged to a different era. 

He decided to walk around, taking great care into eyeing everything that surrounded Him. Every leaf, every person, every structure and every meal. He didn’t know if He looked ridiculous, whipping His head around to see anything that moved, but who wouldn’t want to remember an era of bygone times? 

Of course, that also meant ignoring the way His feet specifically echoed whenever He took a step, and ignoring the way He would occasionally look up and see spirit body threads attached to each and every single thing that moved, or ignoring the constant feeling of something looking at Him, but He could handle it. 

“Tag, you’re it!” 

“H-hey, Hey! That isn’t fair—!” 

Klein paused. His mouth contorted, moving and trying to form a shape it didn’t know about. It felt like He just got hit with a maddening deja vu , a sense of foreboding that He should despair over, and He looked towards the children playing tag. 

One of them was a girl—Klein found Himself glossing over her as He looked towards the boy with a despairful sadness. The boy wore glasses on his round, unremarkable face that vaguely hid two dark brown eyes with short black hair that framed his face ever so slightly. 

A single drop of sweat poured down the boy’s face as he chased after the girl, clearly not used to such physical exertion. The drop of sweat slid to his chin and fell off of his body. It also phased through the boy’s clothes and arm as he gave chase. 

Klein’s eyes widened as a single tentacle, far too big to logically fit inside of that sweat drop, sprung out of it and launched itself towards Him like a spear. 

Despite His shock, Klein felt no impulse to avoid it, and so it tore through His face and forced His vision to darken into void.

Klein’s vision returned to a tentacle sloppily wiping itself on His face, wetting it and slickening it. Water splashed lightly onto His face and clothes as His hat fell into the tank and floated. 

Klein looked down to identify the owner of the tentacle to find a rather small octopus on a tank looking up at Him. Only then did Klein realize his bending posture, and He felt a  gaze boring into him as the octopus retracted its tentacle and sauntered off into another corner of the tank. 

He took the hat out of the tank and flipped it onto His head in a slight hurry as He turned to face the individual opposite of him. It was a woman with chestnut hair and an odd sense of fashion and a fair figure. 

Klein walked in front of his chair and sat down with a calming smile on his face as he asked, “What brings you to my humble abode?”

The woman across from him raised an eyebrow, confused, before answering. “I’m not quite sure. I just know that I had to look for a seer.” 

Klein’s smile dampened. 

“Ah… an act of fate, then?” He mused. “I suppose there’s nothing much to be done about it.” 

“Perhaps not.” The woman agreed. “I’ve heard that you were quite adept at divination?” 

Klein hummed. “My reputation precedes me, I see. It’s not exactly a reliable source, though.” 

“Of course not,” the woman shrugged. “But it helps.” 

Klein nodded as an awkward silence enveloped the room. He decided to clear his throat before continuing. 

“Well, you’ve made an appointment…” He began, feeling something crawl behind His eyes. “...And I wouldn’t want you to waste your money’s worth. Is there anything you’d like to be divined?” 

The woman stared at Him for a moment in thought, before pursing her lips in a reassuring smile. 

“Hmmm… Perhaps you should divine your own situation?” 

Klein felt the corner of His nose twitch as He smiled. 

“Very well.” He agreed, blindly. “Is there a specific method you wish to use?” 

“Magic Mirror Divination.” The woman answered without a second thought. 

Klein nodded, pulling out a silver mirror with ancient patterns on its back and an eye-like pattern on each side of its front, about 22 centimeters in height. 

Klein looked at His reflection, and His reflection stared back with vibrant, yellow eyes—very different from his own.

“What is my current situation?” He asked the mirror. 

His reflection disappeared, and the distinctly familiar sounds of typing echoed for a moment as letters appeared and conjoined, forming words. 

“Great Master, you are dreaming.” 

Klein smiled. He did not understand why He would be referred to as a ‘great master,’ so He just assumed that this was simply the mirror screwing with Him. 

The letters disappeared, deleted, as new ones formed.

“Due to the law of reciprocation, I must ask you a question myself, Great Master.” 

Klein waited, a bit too agitated, a bit too anxious. 

“When will you awaken?” 

And then, His head exploded in a ray of crimson red.

Klein opened his eyes and found himself in front of a large, red curtain. He could hear enthusiastic cheering and screaming on the other side. 

“And for our FIII~NAL performance—The main event—The one you’ve all been waiting for—!” 

“FOOL!” “FOOL!” “FOOL!” “FOOL!” “FOOL!” 

The crowd cheered and screamed, cutting and drowning out the announcer’s voice as the red curtains opened to reveal a man in a ridiculously red and blue clown dressing topped off with a jester’s headwear and a clown’s face paint with a red nose and a big red smile with blue rhombuses around closed eyes, along with a raven black hair that was scarcely hidden behind a golden top hat.

“—THE FOOOOOOOOOOLL!!!” 

And Klein performed. He juggled eleven balls at a time and rode unicycles. He walked and swung ropes. He shot himself in a cannon and flew through hoops of burning flames. He performed acrobatics of the highest order. He even invited audience members onto the stage and had them perform with Him (albeit, very awkwardly). 

A part of Klein understood that this shouldn’t be happening, that there is something very wrong and unusual with this event. He knew that He should not be here but somewhere else entirely, and that truth distressed Him ever so more—but He was a clown, so what can He do except put a smile on that charming face?

And when all was said and done, Klein bowed the lowest He could go as the audience threw golden flowers at Him and cheered His stage name. 

“FOOL!” “FOOL!” “FOOL!” “FOOL!” … 

As Klein raised His head, He turned to eye the announcer, who was looking straight at Him in return. “He” had long black hair that was tied into a bun at the back of “His” head. “His” pale face was at the end of its’ youth, breaking into middle-age with small wrinkles as “His” vibrant, terrifying eyes bore into the depths of Klein’s skull with a glint of irritation that could rumble the earth beneath them. 

Klein felt Himself wondering why He didn’t notice such a unique individual before, but He couldn’t ask as the red curtains closed in a hurry, flying off of the hinges as they wrapped around Klein’s whole body.

Klein felt His arms loosen as his vision returned to Him. He opened His arms and found them inside of a robe. He wore a hat on His head as He looked down and Himself standing in front of an audience of children with their (assumed) parents standing in the back. He didn’t know if He recognized them or if He never saw them before—perhaps it was both. 

Then, He felt his mouth curve in a smile. 

“Hello, friends,” He began. “It appears you’ve all returned. Are you all ready for another show?” 

The words were instinctual—rehearsed to perfection. It was met with multiple child-like cheers as they clapped their hands and sat eager. 

Klein went on with the performance, not minding His unusual discomfort and strange wariness at the child watching Him strangely in the back with His light-yellow blonde hair and His chubby face and His young gentlemans’ attire that almost screamed a level of nobility. 

Nevertheless, He performed an array of tricks; spoon-bending, the coin behind the ear, finding a picked card… Eventually, He moved onto more complex ones—A live bird that seems to come out of a picture, to seemingly be able to read minds, and even making Himself disappear from the stage in a fog and appear behind the audience. 

When all was said and done, the child audience left with happy and contented smiles. Some even went up to Klein to give Him a handshake and even less asked for an autograph on whatever they brought, in which Klein wrote down “Mr. Fool” on them. One man in particular asked Him for one, and Klein found it difficult to get “His” golden, vibrant eyes out of his head.

Some adults even came up to give Him a handshake and thank Him for the performance. Some of them apologized for assuming anything foul of Him. He didn’t ask what those foul things could be. 

After a while, though, it was just Him, and the young gentleman who’s watched Him like an owl this whole time. Klein’s friendly smile glowered slightly as He felt the gaze bore into the back of His head. He opted to fix this unusual scenario. 

With His resolve in place, He turned and walked towards the young boy, who, at some point, found a cone of ice cream and was licking it fervently while watching Klein. 

“Hello, young man,” Klein began, crouching down to meet the boy’s face more directly. “Is there anything I can help you with?” 

The young boy watched Klein, not bothering to stop licking His ice cream. For some reason, Klein also didn’t feel too compelled to move or continue speaking. 

For the next hour, Klein owlishly watched the boy eat His ice cream, and the boy owlishly stared back at Klein. 

After the hour passed, the ice cream was fully consumed, and then the boy spoke. 

“When will you stop pretending?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

Then, the boy pulled out a shiny, silver-colored metal mask—a mask of Mercury—and pushed it onto Klein’s face rather forcefully, and Klein’s vision faded before He could properly react.

Klein’s vision returned and He found himself in a gathering with multiple other individuals. They were gathered around a table playing a game that did not exist—UNO. 

“Uno.” 

And then a blue 2 was placed down. 

Klein looked over at the individual who placed it to see a young gentleman with gold-rimmed glasses. His black hair was neat and His brown eyes hid a subtle madness that nobody dared to provoke. A cold and sharp man with a refined and gloomy demeanor. 

“This is the third time you’ve gotten Uno…” said another individual. He had long brown hair that went down to His collarbone. Apart from the black robe and classical hat that made him appear as some sort of magician, He didn’t look anything special. “... consecutively. ” 

“Hmmm, that just means we have to get as lucky as he does though, yes?” Said another man. He stood as the eldest individual on the table with a middle-aged, mature appearance and profound gaze, giving off the air of an aristocrat. 

“You seriously don’t think something is going on there?” The magician spoke. “That doesn’t just happen.” 

“ Haha, maybe not,” said the fourth man. He looked quite similar to Klein, almost like some sort of twin, except His hair was just slightly long and He had stubs of facial hair along His jaw and wore a flat cap much like a detective would, “but that just makes things a little more exciting, no?” 

The magician grumbled before sighing and looking over to the next individual to the right of the crazed gentleman—the aristocrat. “Well, might as well continue then, right?” 

The aristocrat smiled, and eyed His deck before picking up a card from it and placing it down. It was a Blue +2 before looking at the individual who’d be going after Him—Klein. 

Klein glanced over his deck and twitched His lips, before leaning over slightly to grab 2 cards from the pile. 

The magician went next, placing down a blue 3, and then the detective placed down another blue +2, making the crazed gentleman click his tongue as He grabbed 2 cards from the pile. 

And then, they continued playing for a while, for another thirty minutes, and then an hour, and then two hours. None of them were frustrated at the sheer length of time that keeps getting longer—they had all the time in the world, after all. 

“Do we know each other?” 

It was a very sudden question, and every momentarily blinked before turning their heads to the voice—Klein’s voice. They all looked at him, quizzically, and an awkward silence followed before someone decided to speak up. 

“Gehrman Sparrow.” 

They all flickered their eyes to the owner of that voice—The crazed gentleman. The magician decided to go next, raising His hand. 

“Merlin Hermes.” 

Then, the aristocrat. 

“Dwayne Dantès.” 

And then the detective. 

“Sherlock Moriarty.” 

Klein smiled. It was a bemused smile. A very sad smile. 

“Do we know who we are?” 

Another silence followed. The other men in the room looked at each other, blinking. Finally, they all spoke one by one. 

“I am Klein Moretti.” Said the detective. 

“I am Klein Moretti.” Said the gentleman. 

“I am Klein Moretti.” Said the aristocrat. 

“I am Klein Moretti.” said the magician.

Then, they all looked over at Klein, who smiled widely. Ridiculously. Uneasily. 

“I am The Fool.” 

Then they all disappeared one by one. First it was the detective, then it was the gentleman, then it was the aristocrat, and then finally the magician. 

Klein looked down at his deck of cards to find tarot cards in them instead. Fool, Justice, The Hanged Man, The Sun, The Magician, The Moon, The Hermit, The Star, Judgement… 

His smile dropped and He exhaled out of His nose as darkness took hold on His vision. 

Klein awoke to find himself on a wooden platform. Darkness surrounded Him, save for the ambiguous light that shined directly above Him. He could not discern the source of it. 

He held two horizontal crossbars, one in each hand. Upon closer inspection, He noticed strings attached to the crossbars, multiple of them. 

Klein followed the strings with His eyes and found the marionettes they were attached to and felt His eyes shake upon the disturbingly detailed appearances. 

The first was a middle-aged lady of Asian descent. Her black hair was a little long, reaching her upper back and her face was thin, a reminiscence of youthful days but still holding a refined beauty as her eyes watched the second marionette. 

Speaking of—the second marionette was of a younger male, likely her son. He wore glasses on his unremarkable face (which, upon further thought, he likely got from his father). His appearance was a flimsy attempt to appear as refined as his assumed mother, but ultimately failed thanks to the eyebags under his eyes. He sat at a table as his mother stood next to it. 

Klein felt His hands moving subconsciously. 

‘Zhou… you pulled another all-nighter again!’ Said the marionette mother, putting her hands on her hips as she berated her son named Zhou with an anger that wasn’t as genuine as she wanted it to be. 

Her marionette son stayed quiet, his head slightly lowered as he gave the table a thousand yard stare. It wasn’t the first time he’s done this and it likely won’t be the last.

She continued, unwavering. ‘You and I both know you can’t be doing this, right? You’re gonna graduate high school this year!’ 

Zhou nodded his head in acknowledgement. 

The mother’s lips trembled slightly before sighing. ‘Zhou, you’re gonna be eighteen next month, in March. An adult. What will your bosses do when you show up to work with bags under your eyes?’ 

Zhou sighed. ‘I don’t think they’re… going to care. It’s not like I’ll be traveling the world or anything.’ 

‘You won’t be traveling the world because you keep thinking like that.’ said his mother, shaking her head. ‘You can be anything you want to be in this world.’ 

Zhou opened his mouth to speak, but she continued. ‘I’m not just saying that because I’m your mother, either. I can see it, your father can see it… You’re smart. Smarter than a lot of people. You can do so much more than you already are, which is nothing!’ 

Zhou lowered his head even more. 

‘Your father wasn’t that smart when he was young. I wasn’t that smart either. You just… just have something inside of you that makes you able to stand out from others, and I know that doesn’t mean a whole lot from your mom, but…’ 

She stopped speaking for a moment, bringing her arms up to her chest and crossing them. She looked at her son’s dropped head, and knew he wasn’t convinced. 

She walked over to him, standing aside his sitting body. 

‘Zhou–’ 

‘I know.’ He said, exasperated. ‘I know I’m wasting myself away. I know I could do better. I know I could be a lot of things—’ 

‘So—’ 

‘I don’t—don’t fucking know why, mom!’ He yelled, slamming his right arm on the table. His left arm followed more gently, curling to keep his head steady as it held his forehead. 

‘I just, I don’t… I’m scared, mom.’ He said. His hand dragged down slightly to cover his eyes. ‘I’m really scared. I know I’m fucked.’ 

There was an echoing silence there for a moment—a very long time, even, until the mother spoke up again. 

‘I know you’re scared, just…’ 

She went back to silence for a moment, realizing that whatever she was about to say wouldn’t make it better. Then, she nodded her head and kneeled down to look at him. 

‘It’s okay to be scared,’ she began. ‘But I know you’re also very strong, too.’ 

Zhou moved his hand slightly to look at his mother from the corner of his eye. He looked tired—so very tired. 

‘You may not think you are, but one day, you’re going to look at yourself and think something is different. One day, you will become amazing, before you even know it!

‘It may not be right away. It may take a lot of work, time and energy, and by the end you may regret it, but just know that, no matter what, I’ll be proud of you…!’  

Her voice shook a little as she sniffled. 

‘Just…’ She continued, a little wavered. ‘Just don’t forget about me, or your father, okay? Come visit us once in a while—’

And then they dropped, ragdolling like marionettes on strings. 

Klein looked confused for a moment, before He saw a teardrop on the corner of the set, and more and more came with it. 

Then, He realized He was crying, and sniffling. He felt that His throat was dry and that He was breathing very harshly. The crossbars in His hand were still held up, albeit shaking violently as His hands shook. 

A moment later, He dropped them, and His left hand gripped the corner of the table to keep a momentary balance as He crouched down, His body shaking as He tried to keep it together. 

He felt multiple memories and moments coming back to Him at once, before He transmigrated. He remembered seeing His parent’s faces for the first time when He won a silly art contest in kindergarten, He remembered His parents gifting Him a PC for his birthday, He remembered playing a multitude of card games with His father that usually ended up with His loss. He remembered cooking food with his mother and seeing her smile as He got the hang of things (and her worry when He burnt His hand on the stove). He remembered graduating high school and seeing His mother crying and His father consoling her as he gave Him a thumbs up… 

“Klein?” 

His eyes widened as He shot to His feet. He recognized that voice, clearly so, and gazed upon the table with frantic, searching eyes before they locked on to a lone, feminine marionette. She had long, black hair and brown eyes, and she wore a yellow dress as she sat on her knees in an open space, her hands clasped together in prayer. She looked much healthier than Klein remembered, and He couldn’t help but smile a little as she continued. 

“There’s this new god I’ve been hearing about, called ‘The Fool.’ Apparently, he’s a nice god, an ancient one, too—but I won’t be fooled! I know it’s you, Klein! I don’t have any proof, and I only heard it from a lady’s voice in my dreams…” 

She kept muttering things under her breath, as if realizing how crazy she sounds, before shaking her head and continuing.

“Anyways, uh, how I know doesn’t matter…! And… I don’t know what kind of responsibilities you have for being a god, but… come visit us, okay?” 

And then, Klein saw darkness for a moment as the light above Him shut off, before another light appeared in front of Him—a lamp. 

He stared at it for a moment, before wiping His eyes and sighing out and smiling. 

“Okay.” 

There are things that He will never see again, but there are also things that aren’t lost yet. 

Klein resolved Himself, and picked up the lantern. He could see a path in front of him leading somewhere, and followed it.

Chapter Text

Klein followed the path for a very long time. He could not see a destination, but He felt it. He knew there was something in the end. It was a sixth sense; something to anticipate. 

He didn’t know what it could be. For all He knew, it could be an impending apocalypse or a heaven of magical affairs. Dreams could be anything, for they shape the world. 

He could hear his own breathing and the echoes that His footsteps reverberated across the abyss that surrounded Him. The light that shone from the lantern in His hand shone bright, brighter than anything He’s ever seen, and the light only seemed to get more and more brighter… 

The light obscured His vision, blinding Him, seemingly. He felt no urge to close his eyes, for this was not a dangerous light, and this was not a permanent blindness. 

Slowly, colors returned to His vision, and then those colors became shapes, and then they became multiple, becoming a scenery. 

Klein could not help but open His mouth in a slight gawk at what He was looking at. 

It was—to be quite frank—bizarre. Trees that had no leaves and seemed far more flexible than they should, rabbits with six eyes, birds that were (quite literally) all bone and flying seamlessly… 

Klein decided to walk through this forest (in which, He dubbed “Wonderland”). Some of the trees greeted Him as He walked past them, and He gave His own greetings to not appear rude. They waved their branches at Him and bent over, as if bowing. 

“Oh, you’re finally here, Mr. Fool.” 

Klein turned his head to the side and up at where He assumed the source would be, to find a cat sprawled on a branch, grinning at Him with an odd smile on his face. Its fur was coated black with blue stripes messily drawn over it, like a child tried painting on him. It also wore a monocle on its right eye. 

“Should I have been here earlier?” Klein questioned the cat. 

“Yes.” Spoke the cat, its permanent grin widening. “Much, much earlier. It’s not like we’re in a rush though, are we?” 

Klein smiled, a bit shamefully. “Truthfully, I think we might.” 

The cat widened his eyes in mock realization. “Oh, yes, yes. An apocalypse, hmm?” The cat moved its arms and legs, standing upright. “It’d be more ideal for me to simply let you rot here, hmm? Allow me to take over the castle and become Lord Of The Mysteries, hmm?”

“Do you know the way out of this…” Klein began, changing the topic. It’s not like the cat could pull something like that off, anyways. “...‘Wonderland’?” 

“Oh, yes, yes, I do, don’t I?” The cat answered, crouching down and leaning to meet Klein’s face. “In the end, sometimes, you have to help people you don’t like all too much. It can’t be helped, though. Quite the crisis we’re in. Time is of the essence.”

The cat’s monocle shone. Suddenly, the branches of the tree flexed and moved, bending behind it, pulling out an absurdly big monocle from who-knows-where and putting it over its bark. The rest of the trees did the same, along with the flowers and the grass and the birds and the rabbits. 

And then, the first shifted, the land rotating and circling all around Klein before it enclosed upon Him, swallowing Him up. 

Klein opened His eyes. He was hunched over a wooden table, sitting on a chair with His hand on His cheek. Without moving His head, His eyes flickered around the area. He saw large shelves full of books and desks, with a multitude of people walking around. 

A library. More specifically, the library within Khoy University. 

His eyes settled down, dilating and facing straight towards what He was ‘originally’ doing; reading a book, it seems. It wasn’t a very big book, and it had thin pages. It’d fit quite snugly in a packed bag, and the page He was on had an illustration, too. He grabbed the left end of the book and flipped it over, not bothering to read the contents of the page He was on in favor of seeing the cover. 

‘ Amon In Wonderland ’ was written on the top half of the page, with ‘ by Roselle Gustav ’ being written on the bottom half. The cover had an illustration of a little blonde girl in a blue prancing around a bizarre forest. Klein couldn’t help but think that the monocle she wore just looked a bit too off for His taste. 

“Oh, Mr. Moretti.” 

Klein looked up to meet the voice’s gaze. A bronze-skinned man of average height and build, with black hair tied in a short low ponytail and brown eyes. He had a gentle smile on his face as he took notice of Klein’s presence. 

“...Mr. Azik.” Klein said, acknowledging his history teacher. “Do you need anything?” 

“Not anything of importance,” he answered, raising his right hand as if to stop Klein from moving. He used the same hand to grab a wooden chair on the opposite side of the table Klein sat at, pulling it back and sitting in front of Him. 

Klein watched him, pushing the blasphemous book aside now that He had a reason to do so and put on His best smile for Azik. He pretended not to notice the way his eyebrows rose for just a moment at the notion. 

“I’ve heard that you were thinking about becoming a history teacher here?” Azik questioned. His hands lightly clapped, fingers interlocking in a false prayer. 

Klein’s smile twitched. “Well, they’re not wrong, but…” 

He trailed off, not really sure what to say. His eyes moved over, removing the initial contact as He thought it over. After another moment, He looked back at Azik with a charming(?) smile. 

“You could say I’ve had second—” 

He stopped himself. That wasn’t the right wording, upon second examination. 

“You could say that it’s not something I can afford to do.” 

Azik’s smile dropped, but there was no sadness or disappointment behind it; only curiosity and confusion. Klein knew it would be like that, because Azik always had His best interests at heart, but… 

“Can I ask why?” His history teacher questioned, framing it more as a suggestion than anything else. 

Klein’s own smile dropped at it. 

“I’m not sure if it’s something I can say,” He initially answered. “It’s something that only I can do—or at least, something I have to do.” 

Azik lamented it for a moment, before smiling.

“...I can’t imagine what kind of responsibility would force something like this.” 

“I suppose not.” The Fool responded. “But there are always some things more important than others.” 

Azik’s eyebrows rose. Confused, but not willing to pry. His smile, all too comforting, never faded. 

“Am I gonna see you again?” 

Klein smiled. It was a sad smile. 

“I don’t know.” 

He did not have the heart to lie to his face. Azik didn’t seem to mind. 

“Then do what you must, and let us hope for another day.” 

Then, the library collapsed on itself. 

The Fool opened “His” eyes, immediately recognizing that “He” is still in a sitting position. This chair was different, however. Sturdier, stronger. Not very wooden at all, and much wider, too. 

A chair more akin to a throne; though, not quite. Nothing about it gave off much of a royal vibe. It was made out of charred rock and stone, and was crudely bit, as if it was made in a hurry. For someone; something… 

“Himself,” that’s what this was made for. The someone. 

“He” looked around momentarily, having to push back a cowl that was over “His” head from a robe that covered “His” body. “He” was outside, in the open air and dark night. The moon, in its rich crimson, shone like a star. The land that surrounded “Him” was barren and nigh-deserted. Sand upon sand upon sand. A desert.

Then, finally, “He” looked in front of him to meet the bodies of multiple men and women of varying ages, from infants to elders. They all wore blackened-gold robes, some significantly more aged than others. 

They were all bowing low, their knees and foreheads touching the ground as the palms of their heads stabilized their forms. Then, their previously relaxed bodies stiffened, as if sensing “His” gaze. 

Klein’s eyes fell to the man in front of “Him,” the one who seemingly leads this group of people. An elderly man who’s clearly seen better days. 

“Rise—but do not gaze upon me.” Klein spoke. “His” voice seemed more powerful, weighty, and ominous. “You will deeply regret doing so.”

Immediately, they all raised their bodies, but kept their heads low. Those that did not kept their eyes shut tight. Nobody dared to defy “Him.”

“What have you called me for?” “He” asked. 

The elderly man’s head shot up, just for a moment, for he suddenly remembered to not gaze and shot his head back down, only raising his head again after shutting his eyes tightly. 

“My illustrious lord…” He began. Humble, desperate, hopeful. A stray film of tears ran down his wrinkled cheeks. “Please, guide us, for we cannot hope to survive anymore without your benevolence.” 

The Fool stayed silent, and the man decided to take that as a request to continue. 

“Our homes have been eviscerated, our food is scarce and rotting—we are rotting and dying. O’ great one… what should we do?” 

The Fool brought “His” hand to “His” chin as he contemplated—just for a moment, of course. A problem like this was nothing to God. 

In that same instant, where the moment ended, “He” took “His” hand off of “His” chin and snapped his fingers. Immediately, the area around them changed. Immediately, all of the sand both in the area and beyond the horizon morphed, washing away into grounds of dirt, grass and plants. Rivers could be seen stretching across the newly-formed land. 

Some gasped, some were bewildered, some were afraid, and some began to cry. The rest of them joined in their tears as they looked at the land around them. 

Immediately, the elderly man turned his head and opened his eyes as he oversaw the immediate area. 

“We… we have been blessed by god!” He cried. 

Immediately, in their joy and happiness, they all clasped their hands together and smiled so brightly, and began to pray. 

“The Immortal Lord of Heaven and Earth for Blessings; 

“The Sky Lord of Heaven and Earth for Blessings; 

“The Exalted Thearch of Heaven and Earth for Blessings; 

“The Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings.” 

Klein closed “His” eyes, deep in thought as “He” felt “His” own physical form get whisked away in a gray fog. 

The Fool opened “His” eyes to see The Celestial Worthy in front of “Him” at the opposite end of the table, sitting in (what should be) the chair of The Fool, which meant Klein was sitting in (what should be) the chair of The World. 

The table, in question, seemed to be Klein forms for the Tarot Clubs’ gatherings. Klein didn’t have to look around to realize “He” was in Sefirah Castle—not that “He” could, anyways. 

“His” eyes couldn’t move in the slightest, the same with the rest of “His” body. 

Klein, with what limited vision “He” had, saw spirit body threads all around the corners of “His” eyes. 

“He” was a marionette, or at least in the body of one. 

Klein focused back on The Celestial Worthy. “He” was completely still, all save for his forefinger tapping on the table nervously—a habit, supposedly. “He” looked noticeably younger than Klein remembered.  

“His” eyes stared straight at Kleins’ own, unmoving yet unfocused. “He” was thinking about something else entirely, in low mutterings that Klein could not make out from “His” position. 

“...firot…primor…” 

Klein watched silently, for what could only be felt as hours went by with these mutterings. Over time, The Celestial Worthy’s initially blank expression slowly crinkled and scrounged into a deep scowl, which then morphed into a disgusting rage with gritting teeth and arched eyebrows, and then calmed into a small grimace. 

Until, finally, The Celestial Worthy straightened “His” sitting posture, “His” eyes focusing back onto the marionette in front of “Him.” 

“There’s no other choice…” “He” sighed out, exasperated. 

And then, “He” sent “His” marionette away. Klein felt “His” body get whisked away and out of Sefirah Castle, and only then did “He” realize that this was simply another vision. 

The Fool sat once more. “He” almost felt inclined to stand and stretch after sitting for so long, but “He” could not afford to do so, as The Celestial Worthy stood in front of “Him.” 

His head was downcast, His face as blank as ever. They sat at a small, round table with two chairs inside the fog-filled space that was the inside of Sefirah Castle—a drastic downgrade from a Tarot Club Gathering. 

Eventually, The Fool hummed in realization. 

“Ah,” “He” spoke, surprised momentarily. “This is it, then.” 

The Celestial Worthy did not respond, pondering. The Fool was in no rush, though—this is the least courtesy “He” could do. 

The Fool kept track of the silence—one second turned into one minute, one minute turned into one hour, one hour turned into… 

“This is the second time this has happened to me.” 

…six hours. The Fool jolted in a bit of surprise, causing The Celestial Worthy to snicker, His eyes flashing a pitiable look before returning to a blank state as His head rose.  

“I’m sorry?” 

“Dying,” The Celestial Worthy clarified. “By The Primordial One—and now you.” 

The Fool pondered a bit, before responding: “Any resurrections I should be worried about.” 

The Celestial Worthy shook His head. The Fool decided to trust His word, for He had no reason to lie. Not anymore. 

“Is there anything left you wish to say?” The Fool asked. 

The Celestial Worthy didn’t respond. Instead, His eyes looked downcast, until both He and The Fool felt a shift in His soul, and then His hand began to shake. 

The Celestial Worthy slammed His hand onto the table, trying to stop the vitriol, but it didn’t work. Instead, only His whole body began to shake. 

The Celestial Worthy, too, was mortal, and He did not wish to die. His calm broke, and His face grimaced in a painful attempt to mask His fear. 

The Fool watched silently as The Celestial Worthy began to disintegrate—erase—into fog. First it was the shaking hand, and then it began to travel and spread across the arm slowly. Eventually, the arm was gone, and then the shaking began to subside into acceptance. 

The grim expression, the fear, on His face did not go, though. His mouth opened and His teeth grinded as He felt his legs begin to go, too. 

The erasure slowly traveled up His body. It wasn’t a clean left to right, but a slow pincering to the head. A race, even. 

It was not painful—it was unfeeling, in fact. Completely devoid of touch. Pure nothingness, and The Celestial Worthy found that to be a lot scarier than any pain could perform. 

The Celestial Worthy’s eyes wandered all around, frantically, as if to distract himself with what’s happening. The wait was always worse than the death, He knew. Especially when you could not stop it. An overwhelming anxiety washed over Him as His eyes, still frantic, began to unfocus. 

Until it landed on The Fool. Immediately, His eyes zoned in on “His” face, and for a moment He forgot what was happening. 

His head slowly raised, meeting The Fool’s face—the face of the Lord Of The Mysteries. His mouth twitched, trying to come up with words. 

The fear on The Celestial Worthy’s face was long gone, replaced by confusion. Then, He asked: 

“Why do you look so sad…?” 

The Fool did not respond, and The Celestial Worthy suddenly found His emotions flaring. 

“Ha…” The Celestial Worthy guffawed, before His face broke into a smile, in utter disbelief. 

And then, He laughed. 

“Hahaahahahaaaha—!” 

His mouth opened wide, His face breaking into an almost joyous grin. Was it a mocking laughter, or a coping one? 

“—Hahahaaaaahahaha—” 

The Fool didn’t have an answer to such a question. Tears began to form in The Celestial Worthy’s eyes, and then began to stream down His face as He began to calm down, his laughter subsiding as He looked into the eyes of The Fool.

And then, He was gone. 

The Fool sat there for a moment, watching where The Celestial Worthy once was, before standing up and turning around. 

His sight met two large, imposing doors. Doors that gave passage to Sefirah Castle. 

The Fool walked up to it. As “He” got closer, “He” could hear the sounds of doors and things that could be classified as a door opening and closing on a mass scale. “He” heard the cries and gasps of people watching errors get mended and fixed. Finally, there was a collective silence, as if all intelligent thought got eviscerated for one small moment. 

“He” put his hands on the door, and began to push. The doors moved outwards, and “He” felt the gazes of multiple cosmic deities upon “His” soul. They all ranged from anger to fear, and “He” accepted them wholeheartedly. 

And then, for the first time in many years, The Fool opened “His” eyes.