Chapter Text
When the Ancient Sun God first walked out of chaos sea and brought light to the world, he sensed an omnipresent entity preying into him.
''Mysteries''
Just from where exactly are you watching?
The ancient Sun God was the pinnacle of two pathways. Light and Darkness. Omniscient and Omnipotent.
In addition to his control of chaos sea and the slate left behind by the original God, he also possessed the Error uniqueness that should belong to the Lord of The Mysteries. No doubt spoils of war between the two old ones.
Even then, perhaps the most interesting thing he had in his possession is the simple black leather book secured tightly to him.
The notebook had no signs of age. His omniscient ability was unable to see through it. And the book reminded tightly shut. Never showing its content.
An object that held secrets and was completely unknown even to The Sun God, who's omniscient, one of the highest authorities in the world. It baffled him.
This notebook could only belong to the Lord of Mysteries.
Grisha decided to keep the notebook regardless of its unknown origins. According to his intuition, and after looking at the river of fate, he concluded that the notes will be beneficial to him in the long run.
And so, the notes were kept in his personal research lab. It never showed any signs of opening up, nor was it sentient, and it didn't react negatively to the slate or his other projects. For all reasons and purposes, it was just an ordinary notebook.
But Grisha knew. One day, it will show him the contents. For now, there are more pressing matters to handle. Human civilization, city states, potential allies and enemies, how to make an angle?
The ascension to be God Almighty.
Humans started praying to him after they witnessed the light, a miracle in these dark ages. They give him the same treatment of believers to god.
It's the first step of attaining godhood.
At this point in time, the anchors help maintain Grisha's human soul which he hasn't lost yet. This makes him a more benevolent god than any of the ancient gods, who are mostly mad or cruel.
Even so, the first problem arises early on.
The awakening of the original will in him is of great concern. The whispers in his ears grate on his contrôle, making him lose his sense of self in this chaotic world. It doesn't help his already unstable mental state.
He can't go to sleep to fight the will, not when he just started human civilization. An alternative solution has to be made.
This is how grisha finds himself spending hours in his lab researching for a cure.
And this is how the notes first open to him.
The pages swirl rapidly enough to draw Grisha's attention, the soft sound they make drowing in the air. They stop on a blank page, Grisha stares as one single sentence appears like bleeding ink.
I have witnessed the end of the world.
Grisha blinks, surprised and interguied.
Just what kind of entry is this?
Further more, the language is something Grisha can read, but he's unsure of its origins.
Slowly, more words fill out the page.
In the beginning, there was one only God. For reasons unknown to me, God split into nine separate entities. But the balance between them was fragile, and eventually, the law of convergence lead them to kill each other.
The notes causally write down the hidden history of this world.
But beings like gods know no real death. Their imprint resides in the world. In their powers.
Even now, I can still hear him whispering in my ears
How unfortunate. It seems the owner of these notes has faced a similar predicament as Grisha.
Before Grisha can dwell on it any farther, the pages stir to life once again and they flip to another part. Words slowly fill out the empty spaces.
To fight the awakening of the celestial worthy, I have decided to separate a portion of my powers into a puppet and put them to sleep. This seems to be the best solution for now. The more power is accumulated, the more he is to awaken, this is why I mislead his target of awakening into my slumbering puppet. This holds an advantage to me, as I still retain my authority as Lord of the Mysteries as well as ownership of safirah castle even when I only possess the fool pathway.
Is this is the sign Grisha saw in the river of fate? This is more than just beneficial. The notes provided him a solution. And even more curious than that is the identity of the writer.
Lord of the Mysteries.
But not 'Him' who fought against 'God'
A Lord of the Mysteries who has a similar fate to Grisha. Perhaps even sharing similar origins.
This entity, much like him, seems to have started as a true God of The Fool pathway and successfully ascended above the sequence to become a great Old One. But due to the awakening of the original, He decided to separate again. A smart and effective solution.
The knowledge in the notebook was helpful to grisha. It gave him confidence and clarity when proceeding in his experiments.
Following the footsteps of Mysteries, or perhaps the Fool, grisha made his decision.
And so, the first angle serving under the lord was made.
After that unlikely encounter with the contents of the notes, Grisha made several more attempts to open them, greedy and curious of the secrets they must hold.
His attempts were often a failure. But it did not quell his obsession.
The notes seemed to have a living property, choosing when to show its content, and the most effective way is if grisha asked it for help in high level matters.
How weird, to consult a notebook that appears both gentle and wise? Almost like a human being.
So Grisha started the habit of talking to the notes, reciting all of his theories on beyonder powers. His experiments. His stories about the gods and current times.
One time out of ten, the notes open to him.
''Sasrir is good, but he's a dark Angel. As a god who represents the sun, it will be befitting to have a white angle too. In essance, I'm in fact both light and darkness, but I can't be my own angel... I need to make a white angle."
Lost in his musings led by a mix of both human curiosity and a proud divinity, Grisha doesn't notice the notes opening at first. Not untill he turns to his desk to write, only to find the mysterious notes open, an already long paragraph scribble on the page.
Out of boredom, I've made a city entirely out of puppets. They all used to be monsters rooming the dark, but with my transfiguration powers, reforming them into humans was easy. I spend my days acting out the lives of each puppet after I've decided their individual fates, it's quite fun
Old friend, perhaps your mental state isn't so great? Grisha couldn't help but point out.
Because of this play, I've discovered a new way to maintain my mental state. Having the puppets pray to me proved to be effective in many ways. Their presence is like an anchor to reality, which I find helpful in my current state.
It seems his decision was actually beneficial to stabilize himself. This fellow must have been quite lucky, as most people would go mad from having too many personalities.
It's somehow funny and weird to pray to myself. I'm really doing a one man act, where I am the writer, the director, and the actor.
I play god, and at the same time, I am my believers.
Just when Grisha was saying he can't be his own angel.... He somehow felt he should apologize to the owner of the notes.
But shouldn't a god at least have an angel under them? This thought came to me recently. I think it's an effect of my awakening humanity. While it's good to have retained some of my humor, I don't think too much is a good thing. It's safer to have more divinity.
This is why I'll be killing the puppets soon.
Weighting divinity over humanity. The owner of the notes isn't even trying to keep a balance, instead choosing to discard any humanity he had cultivated. There are only few reasons why a human soul would lead such a path.
''but, friend, aren't you going to tell me how to make a white angle?" Grisha asks the notes, showing them a type of communication as if they were two people sharing a conversation.
The pages flip again.
It appears that in the future, people will be able to attain extraordinary powers by consuming potions and act out the corresponding pathway. This is different than me, who woke up with this power as a part of myself, or the beasts on the ground that know nothing but destruction and reproduction.
The knowledge of those potions should be contained in the slate left behind by the original god, in chaos sea. I can't and do not dare entre it, but divination gave me a certain understanding of the pathways and potion system.
Who would have thought? Humans can become gods.
It's just as Grisha thought. The secrets to these powers are hidden in the slate. And the potion system he's developing is indeed the right method. This way, Grisha can raise more humans to defend themselves, and eventually even angels.
And above all else, they maintain their sanity.
As for the owner of the notes, he had successfully controlled the powers and authorities as Lord of the Mysteries. Enabling him to even see this far in the future, even regarding matters of other gods on the level of pillars.
The little hints and cues in the writing perks Grisha's interest, making him wonder.
How long is the time gape between us? Where are you hiding now?
The notes close.
''There are other people like us.'' grisha tells the notes one day, treating it more as a companion than an artifact. It may as well be his close confident now. ''Lilith, the blood ancestor, is a survivor of the previous era. Unfortunately, she ended up in the most dangerous path, currupted by the moon. Her people straggle to advance and she is not lucid most of the time.''
Grisha stares at the red moon outside, so different than the silver he's used to.
''The moon is the source of pollution. The whole cosmos are polluted. Did you know that?"
The soft sound of turning pages, Grisha watches as black ink bleeds in the page, forming words out of nowhere.
The moon is blood red color,
I loath to look at it.
How strange, you could still harbor such feelings? Grisha thought Mysteries had long cast his humanity.
Deep down, in his dwindling human soul, Grisha felt the same too.
The pages flip again to a different part. Grisha raised his eyebrow, it's likely the events recounted to him are not set in a fixed chronological order, but he has yet to know the trigger to get an answer.
What a vile excistance. That thing calling itself a great old one. My encounter with her reincarnation on earth was nothing short of disgusting. She is the reason why the ground is still polluted and the monsters are the way they are.
The Mother Goddess of Depravity? She had a vessel in the old times? And Mysteries encountered her?
I've freed the poor soul forced to be her vessel and severed the connection between them. This gave her lucidity and a bit of sense over her self. She seems to have little to no recollection of what she's been doing. What an unfortunate soul, plugged from a peaceful era and forced to be a back up plane by that evil excistance tinting the moon.
The seal I placed is not enough. She has to sleep for a long time, till the pollution seeps away and the effect of the mother goddess weakens. Even then, I advise that she switches pathways, descared the moon powers and start over as mother. Unfortunately, this is impossible at the current time. But would be doable in the future.
So Lilith has such a past? Her chance encounter with Mysteries saved her, allowing her to meet with Grisha in this time.
Then, how about our chance encounter? When would we meet?
As usual, the notes close. Never answering such questions.
''I've found another one like us,'' grisha starts again, looking at the notes like an old friend of his.
''But she's different. Unlike me and Lilith, her case is curious. It seems her human soul occupied the body of a demonic wolf, a substitute God under flegrea. This concept is known as reincarnation in our old world. Something I didn't believe in before.''
Grisha shakes his head as he stares at his own bible sitting on the desk
''This poses several questions. Are there still more humans like us? What are the conditions for the awakening of those souls? Why are our origins different? Is it because each of us is the back up of a different god?"
Grisha taps his fingers on the desk with every question he poses, the answers hidden from his omniscient authority, and most likely related to the Lord of the Mysteries, so the notes are his only chance of finding out.
One out of ten times, the notes answer.
Nine out of ten times, they remain silent.
''Say, old friend, won't you answer me this time too?"
Just when Grisha was about to turn his head away, the notes flicker to life.
In safirah castle, above the staircase of light, and over the gate of stars, there is an endless collection of transperçant cocons. Inside are the souls of people from my era. Among them, only one is open.
Since I am the only sentient being on the whole earth now, and the current owner of safirah castle, it is safe to say that cocon belongs to me
All of these souls are a back up plane for the celestial worthy. They are most likely to be reborn in the bodies of future humans in this world. It is truly I who is an anomaly among them. A glitch in 'His' plans.
I can glimpse their past, but their future is unknown. Just like me, who's suffered in this world and couldn't accept the reality of my home being gone, they too will most likely wonder in confusion and fear till they learn the truth of this world.
Grisha reads silently. Feeling the weight behind the words. Even in paper, with time and space between them, he can sense the how lonely and tired this soul is.
''Were you sad?" Grisha asks out loud, running his finger under the lines of black ink. The answer he wanted but wasn't prepared for.
The notes don't respond, but they don't close either.
''The death of God has created a strong barrier around earth that keeps the pollution in the Cosmos'' Grisha talks as he mixes a potion, another attempt to recreate the powers of the sun path before he starts distributing it to the public.
''The barrier is strong, for now at least. Buy I believe it will break eventually. My current powers can't grasp the exact time it will take.''
This is nothing but a bad habit. These ramblings he's been sharing with a collection of notes.
What is he even hoping for?
Knowledge? He has it all.
Power? He's already on the path to it.
Connection? But He's divine.
''The wheel of time, the river of fate... Those are your authorities.'' Grisha address the notes as if they are a sentient being. Maybe they are. ''if anyone knows, it should be you.''
One out of ten times, the notes respond.
Nine out of ten times, they don't.
On the desk, the notes show one small paragraph.
Casting one's gaze from the cosmos, the lands shatter. Everything in the world will cease to exist.
''A prophecy? Of when the barrier breaks?" Grisha blinks. ''Is it going to be another apocalypse?"
Doomsday, Fifth Epoch, 1368
''Fifth epoch?" Grisha echos. According to his knowledge, the era he's in right now should be the second epoch. A single epoch can take at least two thousand years. And Mysteries undoubtedly prophesized this even longer than that, during the first epoch.
''You were able to see this far in the future?" Grisha couldn't help but admire these powers.
As if to prove his point, the notes flicker again, showing more level of sentient than usual as worlds slowly appear.
I have lived in this world for one thousand three hundred years. After paying the price of looking at the river of fate to the most important node of time, I confirmed that civilization will raise only after ten thousand years from the cataclysm. This is still a long time from now.
Even then, humans will continue to suffer.
Ten thousand years.
This is the amount of time it took for the pullotion to fade, allowing races to emerge again and starting the second epoch of the mad gods.
Grisha sighs heavily.
''My friend, you were able to see this far, I'm sure you have at least glimpsed some hope.''
He urges the notes silently, hoping they will give him an answer, to let him know what this person who wrote it thousands of years ago had thought. Had felt.
Nine out of ten times, the notes don't respond.
But that one chance probability is never zero, and the notes answers his call.
A figure will walk out of chaos sea and bring light to the world, leading humans to raise again.
What a curious encounter through time! That person seemed to notice my presence, it felt as if he looked right into my eyes as he called my title. No doubt, he has powers no less than mine.
God Almighty.
But not the 'Him' who fought the celestial worthy.
He is another soul, perhaps one closer in origine to me
This individual, Light Bringer, will be successful in his pursuit. Alas, the time gape between us is simply too large, it is most likely I won't be there to witness it with my own eyes.
Grisha runs his finger under the words, light bringer, the name Mysteries called him in his notes, the moment he witnessed his birth from chaos sea.
From Mysteries perspective, It seems it's not space that separates them, but time itself.
''Who are you exactly?'' Grisha whispers in the silence.
I'm just a Fool who doesn't belong to this era
''I, too, don't belong to this era'' Grisha's smile turns bitter, so unlike his usual divine selfie, more effected by the contents of these notes than he seems to realize. ''I'm asking who you are, from a foriegn soul to another.''
Zhou Mingrui
''A Chinese name? It's nice to meet you, my friend.''
The page remain blank, with no respond, As if the author, The fool- Zhou Mingrui, has never even dared to imagine to exchange greetings with another soul.
''How did you made these notes? Are they sentient?''
To keep track of time and my sense of self, I've decided to write this diary. This is my way to remember who I really am.
.
.
.
A part of my powers and conscience seeped here on one of my experiments, so now it has the ability to auto search and highlight information that I previously wrote.
''Your experiments seem even more reckless than mine.'' Grisha couldn't help but point out.
''How was your life, before all of this?"
I was an ordinary civilian living in china during the 21st century. I graduated university and worked as an IT engineer in a good company. I lived in a comfortable place. I had good parents who took care of me, and friends who accompanied me. I never pursued romantic relationships because I was always too busy with other aspects of life. I enjoyed the internet and video games and trying food. My life didn't have much to it, but it was enough for me, and I was happy.
Now, all of these are nothing but memories. I won't be able to experience again.
''Were you lonely?" Grisha asks the question, finaly sounding the words he's wonder so many times, the impression he's got from these notes on many occasions.
One out of ten times, he gets an answer.
Writing fill out the empty spaces, Grisha reads them with rapt attention.
When I woke up, I found myself in an endless sea of fog. It seems I'm the only one here.
.
.
.
I was plagued by dreams I couldn't make sense of. Replaying scenes of the world falling apart
.
.
.
There are no humans here, only beasts that know nothing but destruction and reproduction.
.
.
.
I want to go home.
Back where I belong.
.
.
.
I found ruins that resemble buildings of our civilization. There are no signs of survivors.
.
.
.
I was fooling myself into thinking I am simply trapped in an alternative reality, desperately searching for a way home. Refusing to accept the truth.
I've never left home, but I won't be able to return.
Home. He just wanted to go home.
But his home doesn't exist anymore.
"Where are you now?" Grisha goes on, another question he's never got an answer to.
Every journey comes to an end.
''What do you mean? Is this why I can't seem to find you?"
I don't belong here.
Dread sips in like cold water, threatening to drawn him. For the first time in many years since Grisha became more divine than he is human, he felt his nerves frying on the edges. His heart beat in his ears.
''What did you do?" He dares to ask, fears the answer.
.........
''You won't answer me.'' it neither gives him relief nor closure. More than anything, it feels like a silent confession to something he doesn't want to admit.
''Can we meet?" This is his last ray of hope, a desperate attempt.
The notes are blank. White pages pristine and untouched by age. Nine out of ten times. They don't answer.
So Grisha asks again.
''How can we meet?"
''Can I meet you in this time?"
''Would we meet in the future?"
''How can I find you?"
He's running out of words. But the urge is still strong. One more time. He tells himself. Just one last chance. Out of ten or even a million.
''How can I help you?"
Because Grisha isn't blind, he knows how to read under the lines, the words gone unspoken between them, hidden in the folds of the notes.
Zhou Mingrui is a lost soul. Unable to find a way home. And Grisha wants to light the way for him, to take the heels of the road and direct him somewhere else, somewhere kinder.
Just come here to me.
In the silence, in the aftermath of Grisha's attempts, the notes shuffle with invisible winds.
This is the last text between them.
In the case of the arrival of the apocalypse, and under the condition that there is no lord of the mysteries, you may trigger my resurrection plane.
Calling this book a collection of notes was selling it short.
Perhaps it should be called a dairy. Or maybe a memoir of a lonely soul wandering a foreign land.
After reading those notes, or at least what he was allowed to glimpse through the pages, one thing was certain.
This is a suicide note.