Chapter Text
“Lord of Mysteries;
Witness of History;
Beacon of Destiny;
Embodiment of Miracles;
Dominator of the Spirit World.”
For the first time since the establishment of the kingdom, the believers of the True Creator prayed to an entity other than their God.
Step after unhurried step, Grisha walked the length of the corridor until he reached the newest addition: the largest depiction of the myth of creation Ourobouros had painted.
There, Mingrui stood like a specter. His gaze lingered on the upper right corner — where that gray mist drifted over his own black and gold figure.
Grisha came to stand beside him.
“Waking up in the Chaos Sea was an interesting experience,” Grisha said, voice soft, like they were discussing weather rather than the dawn of an era. “The authority I inherited guided me through my early decisions. Raising the sun felt like an engraved instinct.”
He paused, as if recalling a half remebered memory.
“I felt your gaze on me. Then.”
Then, when he was born a new, as a God.
Then, at the beginning of everything.
Neither of them had spoken of it until now. As always, Grisha was the first to pry open sealed subjects — and as of late, Mingrui indulged it.
“The river of fate can be entertaining to observe,” Mingrui replied at last. “I wanted to know what the world’s future would become.”
Grisha tilted his head, intrigued. “Did you find the answer in me?”
Mingrui did not answer. Once again proving that The notes Grisha held for a millinia truly did resemble their owner.
But Grisha didn't need him to answer this time. He already knew the truth:
Mingrui had found his answer. Had known about the future, about the world, and about Grisha.
And yet…
“Mysteries was part of your myth from the beginning,” Mingrui spoke, breaching another sealed subject between them. H turned his head, that knowing, ancient gaze meeting Grisha’s. “Even before the Oracle.”
Grisha smiled. “So you finally read my bible.”
“You sound too pleased for someone who plagiarized an entire religion,”
“I prefer to think of it as preserving history.”
“So you make me the equivalent of the Holy Spirit? Your taste is terrible.”
“I only told the truth,” Grisha countered. Even if the myth needed to be altered into a new mold to be presented to the masses, the core of it stays true to itself.
After all, didn't Mysteries witness his birth and miracle all at once, before anyone else.
“The truth,” Mingrui echoed, amused. “Even when all we had was a glimpse through time?”
His mocking chuckle said the rest.
“According to our deal, you wanted an equal relationship. So answer me. Why does the God of Gods allow another being to be worshiped in His own kingdom?”
Why, indeed.
The ancient gods who were slaughtered by Grisha’s hands would raise from their grave in protest if they were to see this. Even some of the angels under Grisha expressed confusion.
But for Grisha, the reason was simple.
“Because God loves the world,” Grisha replied.
Mingrui stared at him, disappointment apparent in his face. “…You quoted your own bible at me?”
“It’s my genuine feeling,” Grisha protested, sounding almost wounded. “And your prophecy was a great source of motivation”
This got him a raised brow. Grisha continued.
“I want this world to last. To grow. To one day surpass what we lost. For that, I need pillars of the universe to hold the sky. Building the fondation for another pillar to be born at the coast of my own scriptures is an acceptable Sacrifice."
At that, Grisha circled around mingrui, finally coming face to face with him.
"Why search for a candidate, when the perfect Lord of Mysteries is already here?”
Why make a new lord of mysteries when you can revive the old one? A perfectly integrated being with the authority, sane despite his unstable mental state.
Having Mingrui as Lord of Mysteries was nothing short of a blessing.
“All of this is your plan,” there was no accusation in Mungrui's voice.
He was a fool, yes. But not naïve. At the moment of his revival, he had simply choosen to trust in his spiritual intuition — and this is where it led him.
Here, in Grisha's Kingdom, part of his religion and inner court.
Maybe, somehow, even as a friend.
“Our deal?” Mingrui prompted.
“A safeguard,” Grisha replied calmly. “To keep you anchored to this era.”
Because Grisha knew Mingrui was the perfect Lord of Mysteries. But he had also read this Fool's Notes, he didn'tshy away from the truth, the heavy implications he had seen in the last lines —
Mingrui didn't want to be a Lord of Mysteries.
But Grisha needed him to be.
“The conditions you set for your revival were… unfavorable." Grisha shock his head slightly. "Only when I ascended as a pillar could I override them. Giving you passive anchors was essential. A preparation — a guarantee that the ritual could reach your spirit."
Otherwise? Nothing would have answered. Or perhaps Something else made of horrors and nightmares may have answered.
Grisha’s voice softened. “How was the feedback from the prayers?”
Mingrui closed his eyes.
Beneath his silence, on the back of his mind, is the echo of a thousand voices. Then ten thousand. Then more. Real Human beings whispering praise and wishes to him in their prayers.
It was different from his controled wave of marionettes, made only just enough for anchors, never to creat a balance between humanity and divinity. This, on the other hand, was more intense, more present, a gentle warmth buzzing at the back of his mind like dancing fireflies.
It filled him with a strange sense of satisfaction.
All along, Grisha watched him, sensing the subtle shift — the faint, human softness threading through Mingrui like the first light break of the day.
The experiment is a success.
“Your humanity has increased,” Grisha said gently, nothing but a whisper in the empty spcae between them. "I’m glad.”
When Mingrui opened his eyes, it was to the sight of Grisha standing closer, smiling with that bright light of sincerity in his eyes.
“Sasrir has been pestering me about some of my duties that needs attending." Grisha continued, almost casually. "So — according to our deal… you will be accompany me on my business trip.”
In the Astral Realm — where gods dwelled — the barrier between earth and the cosmos was translucent. The mortal world shimmered faintly beneath them, while the boundless dark above swelled with hostile eyes.
The moment the two quasi-pillars stepped into the Astral Realm, countless gazes brushed against them, following with unwanted attention.
Mingrui lifted his head.
His eyes brightened. The brown dissolved into fathomless starlight. The gray mist stirred around him, and for a fleeting heartbeat the authority of the Lord of Mysteries bled through the cracks.
His smile curved — serene and cruel.
The gazes of the outer gods trembled violently before all of them recoiled back. Leaving only the corruption in the moon seething silently.
Mingrui turned to Grisha, voice mild.
“Satisfied?”
Grisha nodded, the corner of his lips lifting in approval. “A fitting declaration of your awakening, I’d say.”
Mingrui huffed softly — amusement or resignation, it was difficult to tell. “So,” he asked, “what business did Sasrir send us for?”
“We’re visiting our allies,” Grisha said. “One of them is a newly established Goddess. Her church sits along our border. Sasrir worries about misunderstandings… and prefers to avoid unnecessary disputs.”
He paused then — as if remembering a small detail.
“She’s the friend I told you about. The one who retrieved The Fool’s characteristics for me.”
“So she’s also to blame for waking me from my peaceful slumber.”
Grisha didn’t even try to deny it. “You’ve slept long enough.”
Mingrui gave him a long, unreadable look.
Grisha continued, gentler now. “You may recognize our allies. This can be considered as… a reunion.”
“A reunion,” Mingrui echoed, brows knitting faintly. “The people I met in this era could be counted on one hand.”
"Then it should be easier to guess." Grisha chuckled, eyes gleaming. “Here’s a hint. Like us — they’re remnants of the old era.”
Grisha had brought a guest with him.
This was a first.
But then again… seeing the identity of the guest, Amanises supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. That God never did anything without a reason. The recent decree in His religion had already been explanation enough.
The reason for that unusual myth — one Amanises herself couldn’t quite place, uncertain whether it was truth… or only an imitation of a Bible that no longer existed.
The reason He had walked the world bearing Error’s uniqueness… along with that strange notebook that held the unmistakable aura of Sefirah Castle, enough so that the Demonic Wolf Flegrea sought to obtain it.
The reason Grisha had helped her kill Flegrea — in exchange for the promise of retrieving The Fool’s uniqueness someday in the future.
The reason for his prolonged absence once their deal was complete, leaving her with full freedom to spread her name through the land without so much as a whisper of resistance.
And now, he stood before her in her own kingdom.
And with him, the answer to every unvoiced theory she had ever entertained.
Mysteries.
In the Blasphemy Slate — presented to her as a gesture of goodwill — He had been recorded as a Pillar of the universe. The only equal to the Creator.
“It’s been a while,” Grisha greeted easily, as though their meeting wasn’t long overdue.
Amanises regarded him in silence for a heartbeat.
“It’s been a while,” she echoed, allowing a small, measured smile. “We have much to discuss. I’ve prepared tea for us.”
Amanises’ kingdom was a contrast to Grisha’s Garden of Eden.
Here, in Evernight’s domain, the sky stretched endless and dark — perfectly clear, scattered with quiet constellations.
A simple round table had been set for the tea party. Lilith was already waiting.
She lifted her head at the sound of their approach. Her serene, composed expression fractured — just a little — when her gaze landed on Mysteries. Recognition flickered. Shock followed. For a heartbeat, her eyes widened with something like awe.
Everyone noticed.
Before she could speak, Mysteries did.
“Congratulations on successfully changing your fate,” he said gently. His voice was soft, unhurried — the kind that wrapped around you without effort.
Lilith stared silently, her expression schooled back to her seren smile. She rose, gathering her dress with one hand, and bowed with practiced elegance.
“It was all possible through Your blessings and guidance,” she replied.
Amanises paused, interest sharpening. She looked from one to the other.
“Acquaintances?”
Lilith straightened. Slowly, she nodded. “This is the one I told you about. From long ago.”
And that was enough said between the two of them.
In the secrecy of Evernight’s kingdom, Lilith had once entrusted Amanises with an ancient confession — a memory from the time when the world was still chaos, and she had been nothing more than a vessel for the Mother Goddess of Depravity.
Until she wasn’t.
Someone had severed the thread binding her to that Outer God, ripping away the corruption and casting her into a healing slumber where her spirit could be washed clean.
Lilith had always spoken of that figure with quiet reverence. Always refered to him as Her savior.
Who would have know That being was Mysteries.
Amanesis' gaze drifted to Grisha.
Just how had he get his hands on a true ancient being like that?
This was a tea party. A gathering between the remnants of the previous era.
The topic? Sharing secrets not ever recorded in history.
“…I only awakened when the influence of Depravity vanished,” Lilith said softly, stirring her spoon in slow, thoughtful circles. “By then, others like me had already appeared. And the world began calling me the Sanguine Ancestor.”
The faint clink of silver against porcelain echoed in the silence.
“I tried to reach you,” she continued, eyes lowered. “But there were no traces. No threads. It was as if you had never existed in the first place.”
For a time, she’d wondered if he had been nothing more than a fever dream born from madness and corruption. Even Coheim and Soniathrym — her oldest allies — had known nothing of her mysterious savior.
“After my encounter with the Ancient Sun God, I discovered he possessed an item that held your aura. That was why I formed an alliance with him. And Eventually…” She smiled faintly, lifting her gaze to meet with Mysteries. “I followed the path you’d prepared.”
Grisha leaned forward, taking the story from her as naturally as exhaling.
“With the Blasphemy Slate, we confirmed that the only viable path for her was Mother. Which was already taken.” His tone turned dry. “Fortunately, our dear Mysteries left me a gift.”
He slipped a hand into his inner pocket and drew out a golden pocket watch, letting it dangle from its chain — the Error Uniqueness.
“With this, I stole Ombella’s fate, and I replaced it with Lilith’s.” Grisha finished calmly.
“Other than the four of us, the entire world believes Lilith died,” Amanises’ lips curved, her sharp canines flashing in amusement. “In truth, only the identity died. The Twilight Giant slaughtered his mother with his own hands.”
The two goddesses chuckled together, the sound of an inside joke that just happened to be divine heresy.
Mysteries, who had been listening in silence, nodded as if he were appreciating an especially well written theater performance.
“I’m impressed. This may be the most entertaining story I’ve heard since waking up.”
Lilith accepted the compliment with grace. She reached for the teapot and refilled his cup, then slid a plate of pastries toward him — an unspoken invitation.
Before he could choose one, Grisha set his own cup down with a sharp click.
All eyes turned to him.
“You have a strange sense of taste,” he remarked mildly. “My story didn’t get nearly that reaction out of you.”
Lilith and Amanises froze for a fraction of a second — long accustomed to Grisha’s subtle narcissist nature, the reason why he crowned himself a God above everyone — and watched, just a little tense, as Mysteries calmly sliced into a pastry.
“Ah,” Mysteries hummed, his smile tilting ever so slightly. “That must be because of the recent prayers. Perhaps I’d appreciate it more now, if you told it again.”
Grisha nods, a sign of acceptance. "I would, for our next meal."
The two goddesses exchanged a silent look.
Grisha sipped his tea like a man with eternity to spare.
“How is your church doing?”
“The establishment went smoothly,” Amanises replied, composed as ever. “Your support was decisive. The increase in anchors has also been beneficial.”
“Good,” Grisha nodded. “If you need help stabilizing your godhood, you can always come to me.”
Amanises nodded. Privately, she couldn't help but think of the irony of Gods needing therapy more than the common people.
A brief pause lingered between them. Then—
“Are you aware of the prophecy foretelling the apocalypse?”
The air froze.
Lilith and Amanises both stilled, then gave the slightest nods. Every true god and angel knew of the end of times. But it was easy to ignore in this time of peace, with thousands of years to go till then.
But Grisha, the God of Gods, was already making preparations.
“According to my calculations, the world will need at least three pillars to hold back the Outer Gods.”
His gaze slid toward Mysteries. There was something deliberate in it.
“Now that the Lord of Mysteries has finally awakened, we have the means to create another pillar. One of our choosing.”
Mysteries set his teacup down. The faint click against porcelain echoed like a verdict.
“The River of Eternal Darkness is straining against its seal.”
Amanises and Lilith both drew in a sharp breath.
Here they were. Drinking tea. And these two ancient beings were casually offering them a Sefirot… like it was a gift wrapped in ribbon.
“What’s the price?” Lilith asked first.
Grisha folded his hands beneath his chin.
“Your loyalty, first and foremost.”
Amanises scoffed lightly. “You already have that.”
If they weren't loyal, they wouldn’t be having secret meetings in the quiet dark.
Grisha smiled.
“It goes without saying — but when the time comes, you will be expected to risk your life to protect this world.”
“You know I already would,” Amanises replied without hesitation.
Like Grisha, she wanted humans to inherit this era. To raise civilization beyond even the golden past. That had always been her aim.
This alliance, from the beginning, was built on the blatant favoritism they held towards each other as souls from the previous era. A strange sense of belonging that tied them together. And their most cherished anchor to their humanity.
So what is Grisha going in cercles for?
As if reading the doubt she didn’t voice, Mysteries spoke.
“Ascending as a Great Old One is not the same as becoming a god.”
His eyes glimmered with that strange, ancient light — unfathomable and calm.
“If I had to name a price, then, it would be your very own sense of self.”
Silence. Even the stars seemed to listen.
“Do you accept this?”
Does she accept this one way ticket to madness?
Amanises didn’t need to think.
For her, the path had been set from the very beginning.
When all was said and done, at end of the tea party, Amanises approached Mysteries.
“Why did you choose me?”
Her tone was calm. It always was. But the question carried weight.
Grisha may have made the offer — but only Mysteries could hand her a Sefirot.
Why her, of all beings?
When she isn't even half human.
Nothing but a murderer of an entire race.
Mysteries regarded her quietly. His eyes — made of starlight — reminded her of the night skies back home. Before pollution. Before any of this.
“You carry the breath of Sefirah Castle on you,” Mysteries stated. As if it's simple fact.
She resisted the urge to flinch.
Not even Flegrea had sensed that.
“Grisha told me you were a remnant of the previous era,” he continued, unbothered by the turmoil he unleashed on her thoights. “But I didn’t expect you to be one of the souls trapped by the Primordial One.”
That, too, had been a secret.
“I assumed I was the only one,” Amanises admitted quietly. There was no use hiding it. Not from him.
“You aren’t the only one,” Mysteries replied, shaking his head. “Nor the first.”
A faint shadow crossed his eyes. He paused — gaze drifting somewhere far beyond the Astral Realm.
“Like you, I woke in this era because of His plan. A very long time ago.”
Suddenly, Something clicked inside her.
“If Sefirah Castle had already produced a Lord of Mysteries,” she murmured, the words escaping before she could restrain them—
“…then why did it release my soul?”
Why am I here? was what she truly meant.
“Ah. That would be because of me." Mysteries smile curved. "To put it in modern terms… I resigned.”
She stared.
“You… resigned?”
Mysteries nodded.
“It was too early for any Pillar to be born. So I removed myself from the equation — erased my existence from reality and left the position to the next candidate.”
His tone remained mild, as if he wasn’t confessing a world shuttering truth.
“When reality forgot me,” Mysteries continued, “Sefirah Castle treated my absence as death. So it initiated the fallback mechanism — and eventually, it released your soul.”
He paused for a moment, seemingly hesitating.
“Unfortunately, you reincarnated into a body that could not accommodate Sefirah Castle’s essence…”
“You sound disappointed,” Amanises said, finding nothing else to say. Somehow, this was the thing her mind clutched on.
She knew, as a god, that death was only a concept. Resurrection was always possible.
Yet this God…
it almost sounded like he never wanted to be ressurected.
“What about you?” Mysteries countered gently. “Aren’t you upset? You wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t left.”
Amanises shook her head.
“None of us asked to be here,” she said softly. “I can’t resent you for being caught in the same current.”
Mysteries smile lifts ever so noticeably. His chuckle echoes between them. It was almost disarming.
“As you can see, someone disturbed my peaceful slumber and dragged me out of retirement. So of course I'm disappointed.”
Amanises actually laughed at that, partially surprised by Mysteries' sense of humour in contrast to his appearance.
“Yes. He is demanding,” she agreed, feeling mirth as finding anotherperson to complain to about Grisha. “But also reliable. He’s sharing anchors with you, after all.”
That alone said everything about how much Grisha valued him.
“Anchors…” Mysteries echoed, thoughtful.
Then he looked at her — really looked. With spirit threads throbing at her own, mapping her very soul in this unguarded state.
“Amanises,” Mysteries said gently. “You were once a successful CEO living in a Nordic country. Your friend, Hela, gifted you a collection of oriental oil perfumes. Your dead body was found the next day. The result of investigation was death by toxic chemicals found in the oils. That was what tied you to Him.”
Amanises froze.
But this time, it was different.
This time, it was personal.
“How do you know that?” her demand sounded fragile even to her own ears.
Mysteries smile turned secretive — but there was no malice in it.
“I am the owner of Sefirah Castle,”
Her heart trembled.
“Your friend is also up there, In the Castle." Mysteries added softly. “She can become an important anchor for you, when you ascend.”
It sounded like a promise.
Or, perhaps, hope.
Lilith watched from a respectful distance as Amanises spoke with Mysteries, the two of them wrapped in a thin veil of secrecy.
By her side, Grisha stood silent.
Not for the first time, Lilith felt grateful she had trusted her intuition. It had led her to Grisha. To Amanises. To this alliance that now anchored her path.
She owed many favors.
And she always paid her debts.
“Do you still need my participation?” Lilith asked at last, keeping her tone light. “In that experiment of yours.”
Grisha did not look away from Mysteries when he answered.
“There is no need this time. I’ve found a more fitting method.”
Her brow lifted, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
“Are you sure? There aren’t many beings around who can activate a uniqueness.”
His lips curved faintly. “Isn’t Adam proof enough?”
Lilith huffed, the softest exhale of amusement.
“The cultivation of your virtual persona doesn’t count,” she replied. “My offer still stands. If you need anything — both of you, come to me.”
Grisha inclined his head.
“Thank you. I appreciate the sentiment.”
But his eyes never left Mysteries.
It seems all future experiments would be trusted to one person.