Finding a suitable puppet was not as easy as Rowan Mercer initially expected.
He had standards.
First, the target had to be strong. Ideally a high-tier operative, preferably close to the demigod threshold. The stronger the puppet, the faster his stabilization would proceed.
Second, the person could not be a habitual butcher, rapist, or serial monster.
If Rowan turned someone into a puppet, he would need to keep that puppet behaving naturally. That meant mimicking the original personality.
He had no intention of forcing himself to roleplay a walking atrocity.
Third, the target should deserve to die.
Turning someone into a puppet was effectively a death sentence.
If all three conditions were met, Rowan would have no moral hesitation.
"Backlund has plenty of powerful figures," Rowan murmured. "I'll keep an eye out over the next few nights."
As the capital and most prosperous city in the kingdom, Backlund was crawling with high-tier individuals.
Sooner or later, someone would fit.
Next came the future advancement ritual.
Beyond a certain stage, every advancement required a symbolic act.
His previous step had required the mermaid's song.
The next step was more theatrical.
He would need to orchestrate a grand spectacle.
A carefully planned performance, witnessed by many.
At the climax of that performance, he would personally kill a demigod-level being or an equivalent creature.
Only then would he consume the potion and ascend.
For Rowan, this requirement barely registered as an obstacle.
Killing a demigod was trivial.
If necessary, even a god would do.
While he was organizing his thoughts, a familiar pull reached him.
Miles Reed was summoning him.
Rowan's consciousness slipped free and arrived above the gray fog.
"What's going on?"
Miles spoke quickly.
"Miss Justice's two recommended candidates have both entered the Tarot Club. But one of them is… special."
He explained what had happened.
After the previous Tarot meeting, Audrey had secretly slipped a prayer phrase into a book Hugh and Fors were borrowing.
Hugh discovered it by accident and recited part of it.
Miles, acting as the intermediary of the gray fog, heard the call and brought Hugh in.
Hugh was terrified at first, but eventually accepted the situation.
Fors, on the other hand, had no intention of joining anything dangerous.
She ignored the prayer.
Until last night.
During the crimson moon, she began hearing whispers.
In her confusion, she recited the prayer.
And Miles pulled her in as well.
"She wants a way to stop the whispers," Miles said. "And I suspect those whispers may be connected to the being mentioned in Roselle's diary. The so-called… Door."
Rowan's eyes sharpened.
"So you're thinking of using her as a bridge to locate that entity."
Miles nodded.
Rowan smiled faintly.
"I'll speak to her privately at the next gathering."
Fors's problem could be solved.
In exchange, Rowan could use her connection to trace the entity known as Door and harvest its knowledge.
Compared to gods, an angelic-level existence had no real defense against his divination.
He could drain it dry.
Rowan ended the connection.
The next day was the weekend.
Jack took his wife and child out to tour Backlund.
Their destination was one of the city's most famous landmarks.
The Royal Museum.
Most visitors came for one exhibit in particular.
The Roselle Gustav Hall.
Rowan had genuine interest as well.
Any personal effects of Emperor Roselle might contain diary fragments.
Fragments that recorded the Fourth Epoch.
Inside the hall, a hired guide enthusiastically explained.
"Here we have Emperor Roselle's everyday belongings.
"That pajama set with the straw-hat boy print? Personally designed by him.
"That glowing sword? One of his experimental creations.
"And this right here is the first modern flushing toilet ever made…"
Jack and his wife listened with fascination.
Rowan did not.
His gaze was fixed on a simple bookmark resting inside a glass case.
At first glance, it was utterly ordinary.
But Rowan felt it.
A faint distortion.
A concealment woven with extraordinary craftsmanship.
Invisible to nearly everyone.
Not invisible to him.
"Did Roselle turn the Black Emperor Blasphemy Card into a bookmark?"
Roselle had once written that after studying an ancient slate, he created twenty-two blasphemy cards and disguised each one as an everyday object.
One of them, belonging to the Black Emperor path, had been hidden as a bookmark.
Rowan's lips curved slightly.
"I'll confirm it tonight."
For now, he closed his eyes.
To his parents, it looked like their child had fallen asleep.
In truth, Rowan was already planning his evening.
...
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