Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is purely a fanfic for enjoyment.
Cross-over from various games, books, anime, manga, and movies.
The familiar characters you see here belong to their respected authors and owners.
"Speech"
Time*
Chapter 71: Inevitability of Choices
Hours later*
I blankly stare at the newly acquired Sefirot: Chaos Sea earned through my recent adventuring in preparation for obtaining another Beyonder Characteristic and advancing to Sequence 8 of the Visionary Pathway. The thought lingers uncomfortably in my mind: Is the Idle S9Spectator Adam?
Regardless, I am now only one Sefirot away from possessing all 9. I am only missing the Sefirot: Brood Hive. The fact that it is the last one I must obtain unsettles me more than I care to admit. Of all the Sefirot, it is the one I am most wary of, for reasons that need no further explanation.
The Chaos Sea doesn't assert itself openly. Instead, it seeps into the surrounding environment, blending seamlessly with both the other Sefirot and the world itself. Its pollution spreads at a far faster rate than the rest, subtle yet pervasive, to the point where even direct observation becomes unreliable. Unlike the others, its presence is difficult to pinpoint—almost as if reality itself has been quietly tainted.
Unexpectedly, the Chaos Sea grants me an additional layer of protection. I hadn't anticipated this. Its pollution alone feels hostile enough that anyone approaching me would likely suffer consequences long before they could act, as though the Sefirot itself rejects interference.
Still, I can feel it probing at my mind—its influence testing the boundaries of my control. Yet each time it presses forward, the other Sefirot respond in kind, suppressing it and restoring a fragile equilibrium. For now, the balance holds.
I release my grip on the Card of Visionary, allowing it to drift back into place, resuming its quiet orbit among the others as if nothing had disturbed it.
Now that my thoughts circle back to the Chaos Sea's pollution, an old recollection surfaces. In the book, the Dragon of Imagination, Ankewelt, had sealed the pollution of the Chaos Sea within Groselle's Travels—a Sealed Artifact I've yet to properly explore. The connection feels deliberate, almost too precise to be a coincidence.
I take out Groselle's Travels. Nothing happens. Even as I open the book, its pages remain inert, offering neither reaction nor resistance. No response at all. That alone is telling. It makes me suspect that the true interaction requires entering the Sealed Artifact itself, rather than merely handling it from the outside.
Unfortunately, this is neither the right time nor the right place to attempt something that reckless. With a quiet sigh, I close the book and return it to the Card of Blasphemy, sealing it away once more. Some doors are better left unopened—at least for now.
I continue wandering onward, allowing my Spirituality to guide my steps without conscious direction. Along the way, I deliberately ignore the countless instances of wildlife being slaughtered in my wake. One by one, their remains twist and rise again, reshaped into grotesque undead abominations. Before long, they form a newly born procession—silent, obedient, and steadily growing—that has been trailing behind me for hours now.
I reach out and grasp the Card of Fool. In response, the Cards of Error and Door peel away from their orbit, circling me as they activate in tandem. A moment later, the familiar projection of the laptop manifests from within Sefirah Castle. Without delay, I initiate Computational Divination directly on the spot.
Instantly, lines upon lines of text flood the screen—cold, precise, and unrelenting. They catalog everything of relevance tied to my current location, mapping hidden connections and unfolding variables. Among them are recent events marked as critical, quietly asserting themselves as knowledge I cannot afford to ignore.
So… I'm in the Feudal Era of Inuyasha. And just sufficient to meet the environmental and historical requirements for the ritual of the Fool Pathway - Sequence 3: Scholar of Yore. However, the ritual for the Fool Pathway - Sequence 4: Bizarro Sorcerer presents a far greater challenge. Requiring me to kill a Beyonder creature at the level of a demigod. Nonetheless, I will figure out something. Same with the following ritual for the Fool Pathway - Sequence 2: Miracle Invoker.
With those thoughts lingering, I flick the Card of Fool aside, letting it drift away as I seize the Card of Error. As it settles into my grasp, my mind turns inward, recalling the increasingly convoluted rituals required from Sequence 5 and above.
I pause to consider it more carefully. In truth, it's only the ritual for Sequence 0: Error that poses a truly insurmountable problem—at least under normal circumstances. By its very nature, it would be impossible for others to even become Beyonders of that Pathway without my direct interference, let alone advance far enough to carry out a ritual of that caliber. Because of that, the conclusion feels unavoidable: I may need to reach Sequence 0: Visionary first before I can even contemplate ascending to Sequence 0: Error.
And that's without accounting for the rituals of my other Pathways. Even thinking about the Door Pathway - Sequence 2: Planewalker's ritual alone is exhausting. How am I going to leave legneds about myself at 9 different locations outside of this planet, aka Earth? Unless parallel reality counts? Otherwise, I'll have to manipulate many people to believe there are legends about me outside of Earth.
I let out a quiet sigh, finally ceasing to ignore the numerous resurrected, corrupted Beyonder creatures clustered around me. Their presence has grown too blatant to dismiss, an oppressive weight pressing in from all sides.
My frown deepens as I take a closer look. Among them is a chaotic mix of yokai, their original forms warped and stitched together by corruption, instincts dulled into crude obedience. Whatever they once were, little of it remains now.
I glance around once more, then close my eyes for a brief moment. When I open them again, I activate Spirit Vision and look around again before shutting it off, where I find no one else alive but myself.
Up ahead, I come to a halt, sensing a village less than a mile away—one that was under attack by yokai. At least, it was before I entered the effective range of the Sefirot. The moment I crossed that invisible threshold, everything was decided.
The Sefirot struck without warning, their influence cascading outward in an instant. Resistance collapsed almost immediately. Yokai, attackers, defenders—it made no distinction. Within the span of a single heartbeat, everything was overwhelmed and remade, twisted into obedient undead forms.
That included the villagers who had been fighting for their lives only moments before.
I glance around me, then look up into the night sky in silence.
"This is going to be a lot harder than I thought..." I mutter to myself, once again failing to have anyone notice the bizarreness of the gray fog spreading through the night—let alone spark rumors about it. "And the range of the Sefirot's influence is still increasing, now that I really think about it."
I let out a deep sigh. One of my earlier plans—to perform the ritual for Sequence 3: Scholar of Yore prematurely, at a lower Sequence—may prove far more troublesome than expected. If no one survives to witness me, then I won't become part of history at all. And without witnesses, there will be no records, no accounts, no chance for my existence to solidify into something that could later be recognized as historical. At least one observer needs to live long enough to remember me—and eventually, to write about me.
Then again, releasing all the Sefirot at once while equipping myself with 3 Uniquenesses is blatant overkill by any reasonable standard. As that thought settles in, a fleeting moment of clarity hits me. I can't tell whether I'm doing something profoundly stupid… or executing something bordering on mad genius.
Nevertheless, I steady myself and move on. If subtlety won't work, then I'll simply cause enough deaths that someone, somewhere, is forced to realize that something is very wrong.
The next day*
I've clearly overestimated both the yokai and humans of this era. The moment they catch sight of the gray fog, they don't hesitate—they rush straight toward it, as if drawn by some death wish, without sparing a single thought for what might happen once they cross its boundary.
I let out another deep sigh. I'm doing that far more often today than I'd like, and I don't see it stopping anytime soon. Not with how suicidally reckless these people are.
Then again, I really shouldn't be talking, considering the number of reckless, life-threatening decisions I've made in the past.
"Was that a monk?" I blink in disbelief as a lone monk charges forward and actually attempts to banish the gray fog. The effort lasts less than a heartbeat. The moment he interferes, the Sefirot react. The fog surges outward as if offended, coiling around him before dragging him back into its depths. His struggle is brief. Slowly, inexorably, he is pulled deeper, his form already beginning to twist as he's converted into yet another undead creature.
I facepalm. Hard.
I keep forgetting the same critical mistake: relying too heavily on Computational Divination for long-term planning is fundamentally flawed. With this many Sefirot active, their mere presence distorts causality so severely that any projected future is doomed to diverge—often catastrophically—simply because of their influence alone.
"Wait a second... I'm doing all this wrong." I mutter as the realization finally clicks. "Why am I trying to follow the ritual exactly? I don't need perfect replication—I just need to satisfy the essence of the ritual itself. I need to leave a mark so crazy it can never be erased." A crooked idea takes shape. "Why wait for others to spread rumors about me… when I can make myself inseparable from a historical moment?"
I drive Death's Uniqueness straight into the dirt. The ground shudders faintly in response. Bringing my hands together, I offer a brief, wordless prayer to the unfortunate souls who crossed my path while I experiment with completing higher-Sequence rituals far earlier than intended. Then, just as deliberately, I pull Death's Uniqueness back out.
I draw in a deep breath.
When I roar, it isn't merely sound. My Spirituality, intertwined with the Sefirot, surges outward in a violent wave. The air itself seems to recoil as chain reactions ripple far beyond a couple of miles.
From within the gray fog, the creatures answer. One by one, their roars rise to meet mine, layering over each other until the night trembles beneath the chorus.
In that instant, it became undeniable. The world will be forced to witness the horror of the Beyonders.
I sense something snap—clean, decisive—followed immediately by a sensation that is all too familiar. It's the same feeling I experienced on the night I sealed away the Fates themselves that night.
The roar dies in my throat. Silence rushes back in, heavy and expectant. For a brief, almost imperceptible moment, the corner of my lip twitches.
Then I laugh.
The sound is loud, unrestrained, and echoes far too freely across the ruined landscape—less amusement than realization, tinged with something dangerously close to satisfaction.
"Of all things… HAHAHA! This is just too funny!" I keep laughing, utterly unconcerned with the world around me or the devastation still unfolding in my wake.
It takes a while before the laughter finally subsides, but even then, I can't wipe the smile from my face.
Now I understand why my Spirituality led me on what felt like a wild goose chase. I never needed a precise destination—only a rough timeframe and the resolve to let loose. And I finally grasp why the Fates have been so fixated on erasing me. It's because this exact time and place is where all Fates first become aware of my existence.
In truth, my life no longer belongs to the present era—not since the moment my past-life memories awakened. I was never meant to stay where I started. I was meant to come to this period of the Federal Era and cause problems. And through my own deliberate actions, I've made myself an enemy of Fates.
"No wonder..." I mutter to myself, the realization settling deep. "No wonder I chose the Eternal Edict Pathway first among the Non-Standard Pathways... Sequence 9: Dreamless... I can sense the flow and subtle shifts of Fate. And yet, this was also my very first step toward personally changing my own present—and future."
A quiet, eerie giggle slips out of me as yet another unsettling thought crosses my mind.
"Chaos Primogenitor Pathway - Sequence 9: Villain..." I say aloud, the words tasting strange in my mouth. "I am a villain. I caused the deaths of countless innocents."
Back then, when I conducted my self-reflection through the 22 Standard Pathways, I didn't fully grasp what I was seeing. Now I finally understand why I also have access to the 10 Non-Standard Pathways. They aren't reflections of who I was—they're echoes of who I will become. My future actions, reaching backward, exerting influence on both my past and my present.
"Eternal Aeon Pathway - Sequence 9: Dancer." A wide smile spreads across my face. "I'm dancing to my own rhythm… dancing on the thin line between life and death." My perception of existence shifts once again, fluid and unsettling.
The smile fades after only a few seconds.
"Wait." I frown. "The next Non-Standard Pathway that activated was the Chaos Mist Pathway. Sequence 9: Broker. Does that mean I'm going to make a deal with someone once I return to the present era?"
I scratch the back of my head, genuinely perplexed this time, then let out a quiet breath and shake my head. Whatever that means can wait.
For now, I begin making my way back toward the well.
Hours later*
I suppress the Sefirot once more—an effort that's far easier now than it was in the beginning—before leaping down into the well.
I suppose letting them loose every so often is necessary.
Mid-fall, I activate Error's Uniqueness, exploiting a carefully carved Loophole to redirect myself back to the present.
The moment I land, I spring upward, using Door Opening to exit the shrine without leaving so much as a trace behind. No disturbance. No residue. As if I had never been there at all.
I move quickly away from the shrine, putting away the 3 Uniquenesses as I go. There's no need for them right now, and drawing attention at this point would be pointless.
"I do wonder who—or what—I'm going to end up making a deal with…" I mutter under my breath. "It wouldn't be Amaterasu, would it?"
The thought lingers as I head toward a nearby restaurant. Hunger finally asserts itself—I haven't eaten since yesterday, after all. As I walk, another question presses at the back of my mind.
"And which Non-Standard Pathway should I activate next? That choice might decide everything about what I do from here on out."