AN: Happy New Year!
A single-horse private carriage rolled through the East Borough of Backlund.
Inside, Fors Wall sat stiffly while biting her nails. She wore a common Loen-style dress with a layered shawl draped over her shoulders. A small bag rested against her side, and a boater hat sat neatly on her head. Her nervousness showed clearly.
Sherlock Moriarty sat opposite her, looking out the carriage window. His brown eyes were calm. Slightly long black hair fell near his ears, and a faint stubble framed his average-looking face. He wore a check-patterned coat and matching vest, dark trousers, gloves, and a deerstalker-style hat. An ironwood cane rested against his leg.
He stood up and knocked on the carriage wall, signaling the driver to stop.
After getting down, they paid the driver and walked toward a cheap hotel nearby. Fors remained deep in thought as she followed him inside.
The hotel was clean but modest. The lobby was almost empty, with only a young receptionist behind the counter. She had a cute, girl-next-door look.
When they approached, Sherlock spoke first.
"Hello, miss. I would like a room."
"Uhh… Umm. Yes? A room. Yes!" The receptionist stared at Sherlock for a moment as her eyes unfocused and became dreamy.
Seeing her stare at Detective Sherlock like that, Fors suddenly found herself annoyed.
"Can you please hurry up?" she said as she glared at the receptionist girl.
The girl glared back at her, and Fors glared back. An intense clash of wills filled the room.
When Sherlock cleared his throat, both of them came to their senses, and the receptionist hurriedly handed the keys to Sherlock and said, "Eight pence."
"Thank you."
Sherlock handed her the money, turned around, and started walking toward the stairs.
Fors followed behind him.
Once inside the room, Sherlock closed the door and turned serious.
The room was cramped and plain. A narrow bed was pushed against one wall, its sheets neatly folded but clearly worn. Near the small window stood a simple wooden table with a single chair tucked beside it, just enough space for one person to sit without blocking the light.
"First of all, we need information about the inner workings of Capim Vila."
Fors nodded and asked, "How should we get that?"
Sherlock went into deep thought.
"As far as I can decipher from the divination, Xio stumbled upon a kidnapping when she tried to save a girl who was being taken away. When she tried to fight them, she discovered that there were three low-sequence Beyonders in the kidnappers' team. So she lost. Since this was not a targeted attack on her, they will not pay much attention to her if she stays quiet."
Hearing this, Fors grimaced.
"Xio has a really strong sense of justice. I do not think she would stay quiet after seeing the atrocity you are describing."
Truthfully, Fors felt a little overwhelmed by everything that was happening. If she had not gone to Detective Sherlock right away, she might not even know how to rescue Xio from them.
A sigh escaped her lips.
"The police would not be any help, I am guessing?"
Hearing this, Sherlock lightly shook his head.
"If a lot of money is involved, believing in the police is a bad idea." Sherlock continued. "I have a feeling that this case might be one involving corrupt officers."
With a sigh, Sherlock took out the essential oils and powders along with the ritualistic knife. He created a wall of spirituality around the room then began instructing Fors on how to create a ritual circle.
Fors asked, "What is this for?"
After finishing the ritual circle, Sherlock stepped inside the circle and answered, "This circle will help me with astral projection."
He continued explaining the plan. He would astral project to the front of the villa and wait for someone to leave. If that person was connected to the kidnapping, even better. If not, they could at least learn the layout of the villa.
Fors remembered what astral projection was. She had once read about it in Sights in the Spirit World, a book Miss Allisa had given her. It used a similar term, where the writer described using his power to sever his astral body from his physical form and travel through the spirit world.
Standing in the small ritual circle, Sherlock began chanting the incantation for the ritual. After a while, his breathing calmed down, became shallow as if he had stopped breathing.
She moved closer to Sherlock to check if he was breathing, and to her relief, he was.
She waited in silence, looking at the handsome face of the detective. There was a table at the side of the room, so she brought over a chair, took out the notebook she had, and started sketching his face.
She did not remember how much time had passed. When she finally came back to her senses, she noticed that, in her stupor, she had sketched the body of Detective Sherlock, biting his shirt by the hem and revealing his six-pack and muscles.
She closed the notebook with a thump, her face burning with embarrassment. She had been completely lost in fantasy.
A few moments later, she heard the door next to the room open and close. Shortly after, the body of Sherlock Moriarty moved. He looked at her and nodded.
She used her ability to pass through the wall, while Sherlock, controlling his body, opened the door to the room where the goon was sleeping.
She examined his facial features and found that he looked average.
"Should we wake him up and question him?"
Sherlock shook his head and looked at her.
"I'm going to perform a mediumship ritual to take control of his spirit body and try to make him answer."
Using a wall of spirituality to seal this room as well, Sherlock quickly set up a mediumship ritual, allowing the alluring scent of Amantha extract and Eye of the Spirit medicine to emanate in the surroundings.
After finishing his preparations and just as he was about to start the mediumship, he suddenly frowned and stopped his actions.
"Hmm, the man seems to have some kind of mysterious, unknown restriction on his spirit. If I forcefully perform the mediumship there is a high probability of success, but it would activate the seal and alert some Beyonders," Sherlock said.
Hearing this, Fors's brows furrowed.
"What should we do now?"
As a Mysticism novice, she felt like she was drowning in a sea of the unknown. 'That's what I get for being lazy and procrastinating,' she scolded herself silently, when Sherlock spoke again.
"There is another way. We need help from a secret existence," he said.
"What?" Fors whispered, as if she hadn't fully registered his words.
Seeing her concern, Sherlock continued, "Don't worry about it. He is a benevolent existence. If you ever fall into some kind of difficulty, you can pray to him without much fuss. At least, as far as I know."
After saying that, Sherlock started to modify the altar in the room. After finishing it, he left and returned to the room where the astral projection ritual was being performed.
Fors, on the other hand, felt a little useless, so she moved to the window, sat at the table, and rested her head in her hands.
'Shit, I can't believe he's a cultist. Why does it always have to be the hot guys?' she thought as she let out a deep breath. 'Well, if he's able to rescue Xio, then I might as well join his cult.'
As she was lampooning about her situation and coming to terms with it, the man suddenly sat up and opened his eyes. She nearly jumped on her chair as she was startled.
The man straightened his body, walked to the front of the altar step by step, and then chanted in a low voice,
"The Fool that doesn't belong to this era;
You are the mysterious ruler above the gray fog;
You are the King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck."
Hearing the honorific name of the secret existence, Fors felt a chill run down her spine. She instinctively tried to decipher its meaning, but as a Mysticism novice, she could only conclude that there was no hint of evil or anything adjacent to it.
She waited vigilantly for several minutes until the man suddenly went limp and fell face first onto the ground. She did not bother helping him up.
After a moment, Sherlock returned from the other room. The grimace on his face made a lump form in her throat.
With difficulty, she swallowed and asked, "What did you figure out?"
"There is bad news and good news. What do you want to hear first?" Sherlock said as he sat on the bed, utterly ignoring the man on the floor.
Fors swallowed and answered, "Bad news first."
"This matter is way out of our league, Miss Fors."
"If I am guessing correctly, you are a Sequence 9 Beyonder?"
Fors nodded.
"While I am a Sequence 7. My Sequence is called Magician."
"From the vision I received, I suspect that the villa contains a possible Sequence 6, if not a Sequence 5. That is a step below demigod level."
'Stupid girl, what did you get yourself entangled in?' Fors felt deeply worried.
"But the good news is that I have a plan that will work. However, here comes another piece of bad news."
Sherlock fell silent, deliberately creating tension. To Fors, who was already extremely tense, it felt like torture. Finally, he spoke.
"It would cost a lot."
Fors swallowed loudly and asked, "What kind of cost?"
"I'm not sure. 'He' could ask for a trivial task in exchange, or something extremely valuable," Sherlock said as he shook his head lightly.
Fors noticed the way he addressed the being clearly with reverence. Her thoughts drifted to whether it was the same god he had already contacted, or a completely different one.
Her question about which existence they were going to ask for help was answered when they started to perform the ritual.
They prepared the altar with the same oils and flowers.
Then Sherlock knelt down and gestured toward Fors.
"Kneel down with me."
Fors gulped and joined in the prayer.
"The Fool that doesn't belong to this era;
The mysterious ruler above the gray fog;
The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck."
Suddenly, her vision was consumed by a burst of crimson light that appeared out of nowhere.
When she opened her eyes again, both of them were standing in a place filled with gray fog in every direction. She found herself beneath a giant dome supported by countless pillars. In front of her stood a massive bronze table. Compared to everything around her, she felt as if the space had been built for giants. Detective Sherlock Moriarty was standing beside her.
"Good morning, Mr. Fool," Sherlock said with a bow.
Fors noticed this and quickly followed suit.
"Good morning. Why did you contact me?" "He" asked calmly.
Mr. Fool sounded like a young man. That was Fors's first thought upon hearing the shrouded being.
"He" wore a long black robe with yellow beneath it, covering "His" body completely. Where "His" face should have been, there was only swirling gray fog. It was as if "He" were the source of the fog itself, the origin of everything that permeated the space.
"We are in need of Your help," Sherlock said.
"I have discovered a human trafficking ring in Backlund. I require Your blessing in order to deal with a suspected Sequence 5 Beyonder among their ranks."
"Hm…" Mr. Fool responded quietly.
While Mr. Fool was deep in thought, Fors took the chance to observe the space filled with gray fog. If her knowledge was correct, this place might be a divine kingdom.
Her gaze then shifted to Sherlock, who was standing before her.
'What kind of person is he? He can easily obtain an audience with a secret existence that possesses a divine kingdom.'
Another concern surfaced in her mind. How was she supposed to pay him for his help? She tried to ignore the thought, but if he demanded compensation, she might have to give up one of the Beyonder items Miss Alisa had left behind.
'Ugh, Xio, you better be safe after all the trouble I am going through to save you. In exchange, you will have to clean the apartment for at least a week. No, a month. And in a maid outfit.'
Her grumbling was broken by the chuckle of Mr. Fool.
"All right."
Mr. Fool placed "His" elbows on the large bronze table before "Him", interlaced "His" fingers, and asked, "I am someone who values equivalent exchange. What can you offer Me in return for the power I will grant you?"
Fors gulped audibly.
Sherlock stood in front of her for a moment in silence, extending his hand.
"May I?" he asked reverently.
Mr. Fool waved "His" hand.
"Go ahead." His voice carried a slight hint of amusement.
The gray fog around Sherlock's hand began to move, then condensed, materializing into a dark card that spun slowly above his palm.
He relaxed his fingers, and the card drifted away from him on its own, gliding through the gray fog until it stopped before the massive bronze table.
Mr. Fool's attention finally shifted to it.
"Interesting," "He" said softly. "A Card of Blasphemy."
Fors couldn't help but feel lightheaded.
'The Card of Blasphemy that Emperor Roselle made, said to contain a method to unlimited power, is real!? And Detective Sherlock had one with him!?'
"You have outdone yourself, Mr. Sherlock Moriarty," Mr. Fool said with a faint chuckle.
"Thank you for Your praise, Mr. Fool," Sherlock said. "With the Card of Blasphemy as payment, I ask for a boon for myself and for my companion here."
Fors could feel "His" gaze settle on her, and "His" first words toward her were, "Interesting."
Before she could understand what that meant, "He" continued, "Hmm, granted. Now return to the real world and perform the bestowment ritual as the knowledge I have transferred."
Fors saw Sherlock stumble slightly on his feet. Before she could react, her vision was swallowed by a tide of crimson once again.
***
A massive large galleon ship was docked on a small island in Sonia sea.
In the captain's cabin, a very beautiful lady sat reading. Her long chestnut hair fell to her waist, and her figure was graceful and balanced. She wore an Intis-styled blouse with a large lace flower at the collar, an indigo captain's coat with patterned trim, beige trousers, knee-high boots, and a triangular hat decorated with feathers. She looked every bit the part of a pirate captain.
The wall clock in her captain's cabin ticked quietly. At the back of the room were books, stacks of textbooks, clothes, and skirts. There was also a chess game that only a few people in the world would recognize, along with a neat pile of wooden block toys.
She was reading some folklore her crew had found on Sonia Island about the elves.
Even though she had advanced to Sequence 3 Clairvoyant, she still kept the habit of collecting the blood of mythical creatures as they are very good ingredients for the usage of scrolls and spells.
Suddenly, Her brows furrowed as her blue eyes turned silver, and a small projection of mercury-colored illusory river of light appeared before her. The vision was tinted silver and carried an oppressive, chaotic aura. She felt as if she were standing on top of a raging river.
As a Hermit Pathway Beyonder who had used the blood of the Snake of Mercury as the advancement ritual for Mysticologist, she shared a small connection with the illusory River of Fate.
Sometimes, it gave her visions of danger or an attack.
What she saw this time immediately put her in a bad mood. In the vision, she was fighting someone in the middle of the sea. Normally, she would be able to make out some details about her opponent, but this time the figure was nothing more than a being shrouded in gray fog.
She attacked the being with her Invisible Servant, but it only bought her a few moments. She then used her prepared Starry Spells, which seemed to hold the figure back, but the fight quickly fell into a stalemate.
She saw herself summoning her father's ultimate spell, the Spear of Longinus. He once told her it had appeared in an ancient era long lost to history, stained with the blood of a great existence.
To her shock, both in the River of Fate and in the real world, the figure caught the destructive spear by the shaft with his bare hand.
"Let there be light!" the figure chanted in perfect Hermes, and the weight of those words carried even through the River of Fate. The blood-red spear suddenly shone with a blinding light. Instead of its usual oppressive and destructive aura, it radiated pure, radiant energy.
The last thing she saw was them throwing the spear at her future self before her vision was swallowed by white light.
When she opened her eyes in the real world, she found herself drenched in sweat and breathing hard. She shut them again, taking deep breaths to calm herself.
She stood up and walked into another room connected to the captain's cabin. Inside were countless chests, each holding sealed artifacts. She approached a large one and opened it. Inside was something that looked like a shallow stone or metal basin, carved with runes and strange symbols, with precious stones fitted around the edges. It was one of the artifacts her father had created when he was a Sequence 3 Arcane Scholar. She still remembered how happy he had been while making it. He called it the Pensieve. It allowed the user to view and analyze visions or memories as moving images.
She took the basin out of the chest and placed it in the middle of the floor. As she moved closer to the metal basin, she noticed a wooden pincer lying in the center. She picked it up and used it to pinch the top of her temple. A ghostly gray strand of information materialized between the pincers. She then poured her spirituality into the Pensieve, and it quickly filled with a silvery substance that looked like a mix of cloudy liquid and gas. She dipped the pincers into the substance and lowered her head into it.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself in the silvery world again. This time, however, she didn't feel the chaotic aura as she had when she first received the vision.
She began to analyze the vision, starting with the figure. The figure shrouded in gray fog was probably someone of a higher status or Sequence than her. But why was she fighting them? And why didn't she seem to be worried as if she was not in any kind of danger? What was the reason for that? She also hadn't used any of her many Beyonder artifacts. There were no sounds either, except for when the figure took control of the Spear of Longinus and threw it back at her, so she couldn't make out much.
After a few seconds of thinking, she came to a simple conclusion: these visions always meant trouble. She had only seen the end of it, not what led up to it. Her father once told her, "A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it." Remembering that, she realized there wasn't much she could do for now.
With a gasp, she lifted her head from the Pensieve and took a deep breath. Despite being a half-mythical creature, she couldn't hold her breath for more than two minutes. It was one of the drawbacks of the artifact. She had once asked her father why he designed it that way, and he told her, "We should not dwell in the past." Back then, she hadn't understood what he meant… but now she did.
With a quiet sigh, she put everything back in order, returned the artifact to the chest, and left the room.
It was evening when she suddenly heard a knock at the door of her cabin. She looked outside and saw that the sun was about to set. It seemed it was time for them to start traveling to Backlund. She also had a premonition that she would find her opportunity for the advancement ritual there.
"Come in," she said, giving permission for the person to enter. It was exactly who she had expected: the first mate of her pirate crew. She wore golden armor covering her shoulders, chest, and legs, shaped with sharp and elegant curves. Under it, she had a tight red bodysuit with a scale-like pattern. Her gauntlets and boots were made of the same gold metal, shaped like claws, and a long cape flowed behind her. "What do you need, Ghislane?"
Ghislane Dedoldia had dark skin and at first glance appeared to be of Feysacian descent. She wore an eye patch with a sculpted design, she had beast-like ears on top of her head and a tail like a tiger, marking her as one of the last surviving Beastmen in the current era. She was also a Sequence 4: Demon Hunter of the Giant Pathway.
Ghislane bowed gracefully. "My lady, there is someone who wants to meet you, and he isn't taking no for an answer."
Her brows furrowed the moment she heard Ghislane's words, and her mind immediately went back to the vision she had received a few hours earlier. She went into deep thought. 'Could he somehow be connected to the being covered in gray fog? Better to be safe than sorry.' Thinking that, she looked at Ghislane, who was fidgeting nervously as if going through withdrawal.
Looking at her, Bernadette asked, "What is it?"
A beast-like, toothy grin spread across Ghislane's face, radiating fighting spirit. "I want to fight him. He seems strong."
Bernadette let out a sigh. For a pirate queen who valued knowledge above all else, having a Giant Pathway Beyonder might have seemed counterproductive. But Ghislane was one of the smartest people she had ever met at sea, especially when it came to battle strategy. Most importantly, Ghislane was a very good friend.
While thinking this, Bernadette stood up and walked toward the artifact room again.
When Ghislane saw Bernadette moving toward the artifacts room, her eyes lit up as if she had spotted a precious treasure. "Are we really going to fight him?"
"We will see what happens." Bernadette said, leaving the cabin and entering the sealed artifacts room to prepare her Grade 0 artifacts.
The first artifact she put on was a frontlet. At its center was a vertical eye set with diamonds that shimmered with pure light. It gave off a strange sense of holiness, one that felt intelligent, cold, and completely devoid of warmth.
Next, she prepared a pale metal mask with a faint metallic shine. It had openings only for the eyes and no other holes.
Then came her sword, the Lightsaber. It carried the power of a Dawn Paladin's Sword of Dawn ability and could change into any shape she wanted. She remembered her father telling her how cool it was. He had been the one to call it a Lightsaber.
The last artifact was a bugle made from a human skull. Its eye sockets were deep and dark, impossible to see through, and the rest of the surface was covered in cracks and holes of different shapes. She attached the bugle to her belt along with the sword and mask.
She left the room and saw Ghislane waiting in her cabin. "Bring him here," Bernadette said.
Ghislane nodded and walked off to carry out the order.
...
The moment he entered her captain cabin, She was standing behind her desk... Her eyes reached the man that demanded to meet her, and like always her first instinct is to scan him using the eyes of mystery prying, with the Sage's Frontlet helping her absorb the extra information so she wouldn't get overwhelmed.
He was a Sequence 3 Wanderer of the Door pathway. The cane in his hand was a transforming weapon that could turn into a whip made of blades. Other than that, he didn't have any notable traits.
Still, she didn't dare to be careless or underestimate him. As a Door pathway Beyonder, no one could tell what kind of abilities he might have recorded.
He looked around the cabin, and his eyes fell on the chessboard at the back. A flash of recognition appeared in his eyes.
"Who are you?" Her voice was icy.
The man turned to face her. He was a young gentleman with gold-rimmed glasses, neat black hair, and dark brown eyes. His cold demeanor and gloomy aura made him seem like an experienced adventurer.
He thumped the cane against the ship's floor. "Gherman Sparrow." He said as he gave a gentleman's bow.
"Are you Bernadette Gustav?" he asked tilting his head to the side.
"I am," she said with an Imperius nod.
"I need you to come with me," he said calmly while resting his hand on the head of his cane.
Bernadette tilted her head slightly. "Where?"
"To an island in the Fog Sea."
Her brows furrowed. "Why do I need to go there?"
"My lord tasked me to take you to Emperor Roselle's Last Mausoleum," he replied with his tone steady.
Bernadette's eyes widened a little, and she noticed Ghislane stiffen behind him, near the door.
Bernadette's hand unconsciously reached for the hilt of her sword. "Who is your lord?"
"He is the Fool who doesn't belong to this era. The mysterious ruler above the gray fog. The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck," he spoke with a crazy glint in his eyes.
Bernadette's grip tightened slightly on the lightsaber at her waist. 'Ruler above the gray fog? So the person from the vision is connected to him, or is it actually him? And that three-word honorific name… does that mean his lord is a god?'
"I've never heard of 'Him'" she said as she kept her voice calm.
Gherman adjusted his glasses, and the lenses caught the light of the setting sun coming through the window for a brief moment. "I don't expect you to."
She stepped out from behind the desk and walked to its side. "And what if I refuse?"
His expression darkened as he tapped the cane once against the floor. "Then I will fulfill my task by any means necessary."
Both of them stared at each other for a few moments as the tension in the air grew with every passing second. Near the door, Ghislane was getting excited, sensing that a fight might break out.
"Tell me the location," Bernadette said as she narrowed her eyes.
"Do you have a map?" Gherman asked calmly.
Bernadette stepped up to the desk and brought out a map of the sea. She unfolded it on the desk and gestured for him to look.
Gherman glanced at the map but instead pointed to the table on the east side of it. She blinked in confusion before Ghislane, who walked closer to look at the location, slammed her hand on the desk, giving him a piercing glare. "Is this a joke to you!?"
Gherman didn't even look at her. His eyes stayed on Bernadette. Then he looked back at the map and said calmly, "Your map doesn't extend to the island's location."
Bernadette sighed as Ghislane bristled beside her.
She glanced at him. "How can you be so sure?"
Gherman adjusted his glasses, the lenses flashing again in the fading light. "My lord informed me that in his early days, Emperor Roselle went on an adventure with his knights. During that journey, they discovered a mysterious island in the Fog Sea. My lord believes that when Roselle became the Black Emperor, he built his final mausoleum there."
Silence settled between them. Bernadette closed the map and gave Gherman a piercing stare, but he met her gaze calmly, showing no sign of fear.
"How do you suggest we reach an island that doesn't even exist on the map?" Ghislane asked with a low growl beside him.
He looked back at her for the first time and said, "I can take you there in a couple of hours."
Before Ghislane could reply, Bernadette spoke up. "Through the Spirit World, I presume."
She turned to Ghislane and explained, "As a Beyonder of the Door pathway, traveling through the Spirit World would be easy for him."
Bernadette then faced Gherman again. "What do you want in exchange for this?"
Gherman tilted his head slightly, caught off guard by the question. Then he pointed to her hip. "Give me that sword," he said casually.
She drew the sword, and it lit up with the light of dawn. Pointing it toward him, the blade stopped just a few centimeters from his neck. "If what you say is true, then the sword is yours. But if this is a trap, then your head will be the first one I take. Do I make myself clear?"
He didn't move an inch, his eyes locked on hers without a hint of fear. "Clear," he said calmly.
She lowered the sword and turned off its glow, a thought crossing her mind. He might be crazy.