Of course, there were still two major problems with Edward's plan.

First: after Zaratul obtained the notebook, there was no telling when he would head to Mount Hornacis.

Second: given the current state of the Goddess, would She still intervene to send Zaratul into the Foggy Town?

For the first issue—well, in the original timeline, Zaratul didn't take long after getting the notebook before setting off.

As for the second—if the Goddess still intended to cultivate a future Lord of Mysteries, then even if She were "gravely wounded and near death," She would still "sit up in shock" to push the plan forward.

After all, it had been the Evernight Goddess who destroyed the Nation of Night and sealed Antigonus. Yet somehow, the Antigonus family's notebook had fallen into the hands of the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery. No matter how one looked at it, it seemed like a deliberate arrangement by the Goddess—perhaps left there to await a "fated person."

Of course, all of that was still speculation. Edward knew he would have to contact the Goddess in advance to confirm things when the time came.

According to his understanding of the original events, Zaratul had sought out Antigonus in order to obtain the portion of the Attendant of Mysteries' Beyonder characteristic that the half-mad Antigonus had seized from the elder Zaratul. If that were true, then Edward might not even need to hunt Zaratul directly.

He could simply wait in the Foggy Town and intercept the Beyonder characteristic instead.

The thought startled him.

The three portions of the Attendant of Mysteries' Beyonder characteristic—one was contained within the half-mad Antigonus, another had been taken by him from the elder Zaratul, and the last existed within the Curtain.

In the future, the reason the Dark Demonic Wolf obtained the Curtain was because, when Klein descended into the world, the Evernight Goddess had made certain "adjustments" to prevent him from instantly becoming a "Celestial Worthy."

But that raised a troubling question.

Right now, Klein's birth was still nearly one hundred and ninety years away.

That meant the Curtain should still be stored inside the Sefirah Castle.

Yet during all this time, Edward had never seen that Curtain inside the castle.

Could it be that the Goddess had already acted upon it in advance?

Or was there another reason entirely?

Edward clasped his fingers together, his tone light and faintly amused.

"So, Mr. Didn't-Live-Properly, have you given it some thought?"

Roselle hesitated. "Of course, I'm willing to help you with this task. It's just…I'm not very confident in myself, so I need some time to think it over."

"No problem."

Edward showed no intention of forcing him. "Oh, and one more thing—when you leave here, I strongly suggest that you neither speak nor even think about the names 'Adam' or the 'Twilight Hermit Order.' Because, as the saying goes—'Whatever is spoken, shall be known.' Once you mention Them—or even think about Them—They will know."

"In the mysticism world, there's a famous maxim: Beware the Spectator!"

Roselle nearly choked. Then why did you even tell me in the first place?!

He took several deep breaths to calm his nerves before asking, "Then…should I accept the invitation to join that Twilight…organisation?"

"That depends on you," Edward replied evenly. "Joining it isn't necessarily a bad thing. After all, it would let you meet many Beyonders from different regions and learn a great deal of hidden mystical knowledge. It could be beneficial for your growth."

"But…"

Edward suddenly paused.

"There's no 'but.'"

Roselle's eye twitched. You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?!

But…joining it means you'll be stepping completely onto the path Adam has woven for you, Edward thought silently. You'll become part of the tide of this era—becoming the tragic and despairing Black Emperor.

At that thought, Edward felt a wave of irritation.

Is there truly no way to change all this?

Roselle wasn't exactly a noble or righteous man.

But as a fellow "transmigrator" and someone blessed with the natural bias of being the protagonist of the original story, Edward couldn't help feeling a certain affection for him—especially now that they had truly met. No matter his motives, Roselle had shown him loyalty and sincerity.

And of course, there was Bernadette.

That alone made Edward genuinely want to alter Roselle's tragic fate.

But the cost of change…that was what made him hesitate.

Even ignoring the unpredictable consequences to the future, directly interfering with the Russian Priest Adam's "tide of times" meant becoming that being's enemy.

And that was something he could not afford.

He lowered his head, lost in thought.

Then what if my interference wasn't overt, but covert?

What if, on the surface, everything unfolded exactly as history recorded, but in truth, it was only an illusion?

Roselle would still become the Executor, still ascend the Intis throne, still transform from Knowledge Emperor to Black Emperor, and still be assassinated in White Maple Palace. He would still fail to resurrect in the mausoleum on that island.

Yes—everything would seem unchanged, perfectly consistent with history.

But those appearances could be crafted deliberately.

When everyone believed that the great Emperor Roselle had died beneath the assassin's blade—when this became an unquestionable historical truth passed down for nearly two centuries—

Roselle could suddenly step back into the world, laughing: "Ha! Fooled you all—I'm not dead!"

Just like the times he'd travelled to the past with the Time Turner before.

Then, all at once, Edward's heart jolted.

A sudden realisation flashed across his mind—

—the promotion ritual for Sequence 2:

"Turn a well-known fact into falsehood."

Success!

So that's how it's completed?

Yet Edward didn't feel happy at all—because...it was too long.

Klein had practised for two and a half years before becoming a half-step Lord of Mysteries. But for him—it would take a hundred and ninety years just to advance to Sequence 2. The difference was simply too vast. This was nothing more than a desperate fallback plan, a reluctant contingency.

Moreover, while the idea itself sounded good in theory, in practice it was ridiculously difficult:

First, the time span was far too long; Second, there were too many variables; And third—most crucially—it required Roselle's full cooperation.

That meant he would have to reveal everything to Roselle, lay all his cards on the table. But when that time came, would Roselle truly be willing to cooperate and perform such a century-spanning play alongside him?

The thought made Edward grab at his hair in frustration.

"Ahhh! Damn it, damn it, damn it! I'm not Roselle's father, why am I worrying so much about this and taking on such a huge risk!?"

But then again—aside from this plan, what other method could he use to complete the ritual?

"???"

Roselle, still in the Sefirah Castle projection, looked blankly at the Chairman who had suddenly fallen into deep contemplation. When Edward abruptly grabbed his hair in agitation, Roselle was completely stunned.

Is joining the Twilight Hermit Order really that troublesome? Even a deity looks this distressed?

If that's the case, then no matter how good the offer sounds, I definitely shouldn't join.

After a long moment, Edward regained his composure. He silently cursed his own "damned childishness," then said evenly, "Alright, if you don't have any further questions, go back and think carefully about it."

Roselle opened his mouth as if to speak, but ultimately lowered his head and said softly, "I understand. Thank you, Mr. Chairman."

Edward severed the connection, and Roselle's figure vanished from the Sefirah Castle.

Edward sighed. "Ugh, I'll have to come up with another way to complete the advancement ritual...Otherwise, this promotion is going to turn into a literal hell mode."

Bang, bang, bang—

The sound came from a birdcage beside him—Amon was frantically flapping his wings against the bars, repeatedly pointing toward his mouth.

Edward moved his spirituality, lifting the restriction on him.

Amon immediately spoke, his tone displeased. "You wouldn't let me talk, fine, but why block my hearing of your conversation too? That's my only source of entertainment in the Sefirah Castle!"

He tilted his head, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "These days, I've been answering your questions for free, haven't I? And you still take away my fun? Next time, you can forget about free consultations."

Edward shot him a glance and said lightly, "You're still too young. Some things aren't suitable for you to hear."

"Go to—"

Amon stretched out one wing and gestured a middle finger.

Then he asked curiously, "That believer of yours—who exactly is he? How could he make the Paranoid Zealot meet him personally?"

"Just some little inventor," Edward replied indifferently. "Who knows what Adam's thinking? But being targeted by Adam—do you think that's a good thing?"

"You've got a point there."

A glint flashed through Amon's eyes as he smiled.

"But I still think you know more than you're letting on."

Edward burst out laughing. "Hahahaha! Come on, little Amon. Even if I do become the Lord of Mysteries someday, omniscience and omnipotence still won't be part of my authorities! How would I possibly 'know everything'?"

"Oh, really?"

Amon tilted his head in mock contemplation, then smirked.

"Forget it. I'll find out soon enough—when I parasitise you."

"Good luck with that."

Edward waved his fist cheerfully, then shifted topics.

"Speaking of which, since you're already here, how about answering another question for me?"

Amon blinked innocently. "Mr. Amon doesn't know~."

"..."

Edward grabbed a brick—one that materialised from the void—and hurled it at him.

Amon twisted his body, shaking the cage to dodge the projectile. Laughing, he said,

"I thought you liked this kind of thing. Lilith always used to say so, after all. Alright, alright—ask away."

Edward's tone turned serious. "How exactly did you use the dreamscape in the Ruins of the Battlefield of Gods and the Abyss to enter the Forsaken Land of the Gods?"

"Oh, that."

Amon's eyes narrowed with amusement.

"You're strong enough—you should know what the Marauder pathway's Sequence 0 is, right?"

"Error."

"Exactly. I can exploit the uniqueness of that authority to bypass certain restrictions and achieve specific goals..."

Amon chuckled, brushing a finger along his monocle.

"So yes, it's my exclusive ability. No one else can use it."

"Hmm."

Edward responded mildly, but his eyes gleamed. He invoked [Deconstruction] upon Amon's monocle.

Compared to when he'd attempted it in the Evernight Goddess's divine kingdom, the progress this time was significantly faster.

And then—he saw the authority.

Relative to the Goddess's "Concealment" authority, deconstructing Amon's "Error" authority would only take a hundred years. Of course, that didn't mean the "Error" authority was weaker—just that Amon's mastery of it was far less complete than Hers.

However—this was the Sefirah Castle.

He muttered to himself with a half-smile:

"Madman to the Right...Reverse!"

Hmm?

Suddenly, Edward's eyes lit up as he looked at Amon, a new thought forming in his mind.

———

Roselle's Mansion

Roselle opened his eyes in the washroom as the boundless grey mist dispersed. A hint of distress appeared on his face.

What should I do now?

He sighed, stood up, and started walking out—but a sudden numbness surged through his legs. His knees buckled, and he stumbled forward, crashing into the bathroom door with a loud bang.

"Ouch, hiss—!"

He gritted his teeth. "The Savant Pathway is so damn weak! How can a Sequence 6 still get leg cramps? This won't do—I have to advance quickly."

Just then, Matilda's concerned voice came from outside.

"Darling, what happened?"

"Nothing," Roselle said, pulling open the door. He shuffled forward half a step, leaning against the frame. "Just squatted too long—legs went numb."

Matilda frowned worriedly. "Oh dear, should I get a doctor to prescribe some tonics for you?"

"Matilda!!"

Roselle pointed at her accusatorily, eyebrows raised.

"You're saying I'm weak, aren't you? Just wait—I'll show you in a moment whether I'm weak or not!"

A flush rose to Matilda's cheeks, but her eyes gleamed with amusement and anticipation. "All right then."

———

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