Dark clouds blanketed the sky, cold wind whistled through the land, and autumn's desolation loomed heavily, submerging all things in an atmosphere of withering decay. Countless lives, too, were quietly fading away in this desolate setting.
This was a barren valley. Deep within it stood a small, dilapidated town, its air thick with the stench of death. But it was at the town’s edge where this stench was most suffocating.
Here lay a graveyard—simple, shabby, and far removed from the main buildings. It was encircled by a crude, unhewn stone wall. Yet within it stood a dense array of graves.
Mounds of earth were packed close together, each marked by a simple wooden stake. Crude and densely packed, the burial mounds nearly filled the entire cemetery.
At the edge of this graveyard, a tall man was working. Clad in a filthy padded coat, unkempt beard covering his weathered face, his blistered hands swung an old shovel, digging a fresh pit beside a grave. Dark stains of blood still lingered in the wet soil nearby.
“Phew… that’s about right. The brat should be dead by now…”
With the pit complete, the man let out a long breath and stabbed the shovel into the mud. He clapped his hands and muttered to himself. Then he grabbed a cheap liquor flask from his belt, took a swig of the remaining bad spirits, and stumbled toward the graveyard's edge, red-faced and unsteady.
Near the cemetery stood a ramshackle wooden cabin—likely the caretaker’s quarters. The man pushed open its creaking door and glanced inside… only to freeze in place.
“Cough… cough…”
From the depths of the wooden cabin, on a battered stretcher, a figure was struggling to sit up—a boy.
He looked around thirteen or fourteen years old, frail to the extreme. His upper body was bare, wrapped only in bloodstained, filthy bandages. His pale face was lined with exhaustion and weakness. His short hair was messy and unwashed, his expression contorted by pain and confusion.
“Cough, cough… it hurts… Where… am I?”
“Whoa… you’re awake? Kid, you actually survived?! Mother Tree be praised—you took a beating like that and still pulled through…”
The man stared at the revived boy, speaking in disbelief. At that moment, the boy finally noticed the man’s presence. He turned toward him with vacant eyes and asked.
“Who… are you? Why am I here?”
“I’m the gravedigger around these parts. Name’s Yogg. Your caravan was attacked by orc bandits before reaching our town—everyone else died. You were the only one still breathing. I buried the others and dumped you here to see if you’d make it. Honestly, I thought you were as good as dead—I even dug your grave. Never thought you’d survive… damn miracle…”
Yogg explained bluntly. But the boy looked even more confused.
“Orcs? Bandits? What… I was… at school. Why would I… end up in a place like this?”
“School? Hah! There ain’t no schools for hundreds of miles. Only big lords have schools in their fancy towns. You must’ve hit your head, eh?”
“Hit my head…”
The boy shook his head in pain, trying to reorient himself. Then his eyes settled on an empty spot inside the cabin. He narrowed his gaze, growing even more bewildered.
“There’s… a monument? Looks like a gravestone… A glowing gravestone? Why would it glow…”
“Glowing gravestone? What’re you talking about? My house sure as hell doesn’t have a gravestone. Our town just sticks a board in the dirt—we ain’t got money for fancy stones.”
Yogg waved the idea away, then added.
“You must still be loopy. Just sit tight—I’ll go get someone.”
With that, Yogg left the cabin, leaving the dazed boy alone on the stretcher. But the confusion in his eyes deepened.
“But… there really is a glowing gravestone…
“Is this… just a hallucination?”
He turned his head again—and the haze in his eyes grew darker.
“All over the mountains… everywhere… glowing gravestones? All of them are hallucinations?”
Peering out the window, he saw them—every ten meters or so, stretching as far as the eye could see: translucent, phantom-like gravestones, softly glowing.
As he rubbed his eyes again and again, trying to confirm what he was seeing, a crisp voice echoed through the room.
“Yo. Finally someone noticed me. Took you long enough…”
“Who?!”
The boy spun around, startled. And what he saw—was the phantom gravestone inside the cabin, the first one he had noticed.
It was glowing faintly, reshaping itself… forming into something else…
Into… a small humanoid figure.
“I’ve waited a long time for you… destined one…”
…
People view the concept of "doubt" in different ways.
Fools live contentedly. They accept themselves, others, and the world as natural and unquestionable, finding joy in ignorance. The wise, having experienced the world’s torments, are plagued by doubt—from within, from others, from the world itself. They seek causality, study the principles of all things, and hunger for knowledge.
Countless sages chase a single truth—an ultimate truth that can answer all questions. They study countless tomes, obey the laws of fate, and ascend step by step toward enlightenment, gathering knowledge and illuminating every doubt.
In this process, they shed the skin of mortality, transcend the chains of mundanity, attain divinity—and even surpass it—to ultimately become the Truth itself, encompassing all and becoming free of doubt.
At that point, they are without question.
The Lord of Knowledge believed Himself to have become that truth. Even as the God of Consciousness, He had already neared it. After becoming the God of Chaos, He believed he had fully achieved it—become the ultimate truth, the final being beyond all wisdom.
To such a final being, omniscience was a given. Doubt had no place. Within His own universe, He was absolutely omniscient. Even across all universes, He could perceive the general structure, grasp cause and effect. Major doubts would never arise. Minor ones could be solved with minimal effort.
Once He encompassed the entire cosmos, even the smallest question would vanish. For Him, pursuit of knowledge would become meaningless.
Thus, after becoming the God of Chaos—the Ender—the Lord of Knowledge no longer held questions. Especially in His own universe, doubt was not supposed to exist.
Yet such a notion… had still arisen within the heart of the one who claimed to be the final being. Upon facing a girl more familiar than any other… doubt emerged.
And He… did not know how to cope.
“What is it? Surprised to see me here?”
Dorothy smiled gently, speaking softly to the silent being before her. The Lord of Knowledge remained speechless, and only after a long pause did He whisper a single word.
“…Flaw.”
To the Ender, doubt should not exist. To harbor doubt was shameful. The Lord of Knowledge denied that He harbored doubt—denied such shame.
An Ender is omniscient. Especially in His own universe, He should be absolutely so. No form of doubt should be possible. The Lord of Knowledge believed this with certainty. And yet—how to explain this girl before Him?
He could only conclude: His Ender state was not complete. He had not yet fully become the God of Chaos.
The process of merging all things, of fusing every divinity, collapsing all into One, was incredibly complex. He required manipulating an unfathomable quantity of divine forces. A single misstep could lead to imperfection.
Now, He believed the previous fusion of divinities, the incubation of the Egg of Chaos, and the elevation of His will had lacked refinement. Flaws had emerged—and as a result, His Ender form was incomplete.
And this girl must be one such flaw. She had emerged in a manner He hadn’t anticipated.
Yes. Just a flaw. Nothing more.
And flaws… can be corrected.
This ritual, which had spanned a billion years and involved boundless spiritual forces, with the entire grand cosmos as its altar, needed a more meticulous ending.
With a single thought, the Lord of Knowledge shattered the image of the girl before Him, erasing her. As she dissolved into nothingness again, the being secretly exhaled in relief.
Though the flaw had set back His progress to earlier stages, all was still within His control. He simply needed to restart the ritual. This time, with more precision, success would be absolute.
Once more, He began the ritual—reincubating the Egg of Chaos.
And once more, the world… the grand cosmos… began to tremble.
The murky sludge of fusion burst through the seals of the earth, seeping through the cracks of every boundary between realms.
Thus, the Lord of Knowledge watched as the surging chaotic sludge once again swept across the entire grand cosmos like a flood. All boundaries, all distinctions, were erased once more. Everything became one once more, and once again, He became the dominating will of that unity. Then, once again, He invaded other universes… and once again, He saw that smiling girl before Him.
“!”
“Welcome back. So? How does it feel to experience the joy of victory again?”
Facing the dumbfounded Lord of Knowledge, Dorothy smiled softly and spoke in a gentle tone. And upon seeing Dorothy once more, as well as the consciousness space restored to its prior state, the Lord of Knowledge fell into silence. After a long pause, He finally spoke again.
“Deviation…”
Yes… this was merely a deviation. Another case of imperfection. The ritual had once again failed to complete perfectly. There must still be some overlooked flaw, some mistake He hadn’t accounted for—even though, as an omniscient Ender, such “oversights” shouldn’t exist.
Another deviation—but it didn’t matter. As long as He still held supreme authority, He could restart it. He could run the ritual to completion.
Once again, He shattered the illusion of the girl before Him. Once again, He launched the final phase of the ritual. Just like before, He descended through Dorothy’s vessel, incubated the Egg of Chaos, unleashed the Chaos to engulf all of the grand cosmos, merged all divinities, became the God of Chaos, advanced beyond the cosmos—only to once again see the girl’s smiling face.
“Reliving your final triumph over and over again… That feeling must really be addictive, huh?”
Facing this inexplicable and repeated appearance of the girl, the Lord of Knowledge could only remain silent. Only after a long pause did the God of Knowledge speak again.
“Mistake…”
He could go no further in thought. No deeper analysis. All He could do was mechanically blame the anomaly before Him on yet another mistake in the ritual, then mechanically shatter the illusion, mechanically descend again, mechanically incubate Chaos, mechanically ascend to godhood, mechanically invade the outer realms.
And eventually, mechanically… see the girl reappear before Him.
“Hello again…”
“…”
Now the Lord of Knowledge was speechless. Upon seeing the girl appear once more, He didn’t even pause—just immediately shattered the illusion, repeated the descent, the incubation, the godhood, the invasion—and once more beheld the familiar scene.
“You again…”
“…”
“How many times has it been now?”
“…”
“Aren’t you tired of it?”
“…”
“You’re really persistent…”
“Shut up!!”
At last… after who knows how many repetitions, the Lord of Knowledge could endure it no longer. The endless cycle finally drove Him into a frenzy. With a furious roar, He shattered the illusion yet again.
Then, alone in the void of His consciousness space, He did not immediately initiate the ritual again as before. Instead, He listlessly scanned the entire space, swept His will across many worlds, and at last… a wave of emotion He could not suppress surged to the surface.
“…Why?”
Why… In the face of this situation, the Lord of Knowledge—who believed Himself the Ender—finally couldn’t help but speak the one sentence He considered most shameful:
Why?
The self-proclaimed omniscient, the self-proclaimed omnipotent one, had finally spoken words that denied Himself. Words that blasphemed Himself, that humiliated Himself.
At this moment, the Lord of Knowledge had finally admitted His doubt. Acknowledged that bewildering unknown. And with it came overwhelming panic…
“Why… Why is it like this?
“I clearly… clearly had everything under control. I clearly completed the Chaos. I clearly became omniscient and omnipotent… So why do you still linger? Why can’t I erase you completely?
“Dorothea… Mayschoss…”
Muttering in confusion, the frequency of the runes flashing across the Lord of Knowledge’s body became more rapid, more erratic. Because of this undeniable doubt, He plunged into a frenzy—an uncontrollable madness.
But fortunately… the phantom called Dorothea would vanish the moment she appeared, driven out by Him immediately. Though there were many strange occurrences, Dorothy’s true self—on the verge of ascending to Primordial God—was still under His control.
No matter how many unexpected mishaps occurred, no matter how many times the residual will returned like a haunting shadow, as long as Dorothy’s true body remained in His grasp, the bigger picture was unchanged. He still had time to correct the errors, to slowly make it perfect.
In the midst of His frenzy, the Lord of Knowledge reassured Himself thus. But just then, a voice all too familiar interrupted His thoughts—breaking His spiral.
“Because your so-called control over everything… was an illusion from the start.”
At that voice, the Lord of Knowledge froze. He immediately turned toward the direction the voice came from—and saw an unexpected yet familiar figure emerging from the darkness.
It was… a man. He wore a gray-white robe covered in countless hieroglyphic runes, which twisted and shifted continuously like a living mural. The robe was adorned with intricate golden and amethyst decorations. His face was hidden beneath a stone mask engraved with glyphs, yet even masked, his handsome features could still be vaguely felt.
Long, sleek black hair draped down his back, golden hair ornaments decorating it. Between the ornate robe and his jewelry, glimpses of his skin showed a slightly dusky tone.
“…Osiris.”
Staring at the figure before Him, the Lord of Knowledge faltered visibly. After a long silence, He finally uttered the name that had once been so intimately familiar.
“We meet again at last… I hope you’ve been well, my dearest father.”
Once called Heaven’s Arbiter, this being spoke softly to the one who had once been his closest kin. And the Lord of Knowledge, glaring at this figure that should no longer exist in this world, spoke through clenched teeth.
“Osiris… so you didn’t truly perish? I didn’t completely kill you back then? What are you now—a lingering soul? A shard of divine will? Have you just been clinging to life in this world all this time?!”
“No… You’re mistaken, Father.”
Osiris shook his head gently and replied in a soft voice.
“I did perish back then—completely. I left no backup plan. You held nothing back. I didn’t, like you, leave a sliver of divine consciousness to linger. I couldn’t have done so under your watch…
“The me standing here now… is merely a reconstructed thought-form, recreated through calculation based on Osiris’s past data. A revival of Heaven’s Arbiter’s mind, not his existence…”
So said Osiris. But clearly, the Lord of Knowledge cared little about the current state of Osiris’s existence. What He was more concerned about—was His current predicament.
“So this mess I’m in… it’s your doing?”
“No… at least, not entirely. Dragging you into this state—someone like me, a mere fragment of data—could never achieve that alone. It required more power… more entities… working together.”
Osiris replied softly. Hearing this, the Lord of Knowledge’s voice grew heavier.
“More power… more entities? Like you—fallen ones, reconstructed from data… Are there more? Wait… if you’re here… then could it be that she…”
“Ah~ So you finally remembered me, Old Old Deng!”
Suddenly, another voice echoed in the darkness. Hearing that familiar, lilting tone, the Lord of Knowledge froze again. He turned quickly toward the source—and saw yet another familiar figure.
A petite form adorned with countless beast bones. Long rabbit ears poked out from the eye sockets of the beast skull helmet on her head. Wild gray hair spilled over a fur mantle. Her light brown skin was tattooed with mysterious totems. In her hand was a pipe, like bone or jade, trailing curling smoke. Beneath the skull helmet, her grinning face beamed with smug delight.
“Been a while. How does it feel to find out you’ve been tricked, eh, Old Old Deng?”
“Gitche Manitou… you too didn’t truly die? You’re also… like Osiris? A manifestation of will?”
Staring at the Great Soul that had suddenly appeared before Him, the Lord of Knowledge muttered gravely. When He had seen Osiris reappear, He had already begun to wonder whether the will of Manitou—who had perished alongside Osiris by His own hand—might also return. He hadn’t expected that suspicion to be confirmed so soon.
“Reconstructed will? That’s not the case with me…”
Manitou said with a sly grin, puffing gently on his bone pipe.
“My will was never fully annihilated. I am a continuation of my own consciousness—unlike Old Osiris here, who was merely a simulated reconstruction based on past data. You never truly destroyed me. I paid a heavy price, but in the end, a sliver of me escaped your grasp…”
With a dangerous glint in his eyes, he continued, confronting his ancient enemy after millennia apart.
“Do you know, you old bastard… I’ve waited a long, long time for this day. We’ve been planning for years—so that today, you’ll finally pay for everything.”
The Great Soul, who had endured for millennia, spat out a threat laced with murderous intent. The Lord of Knowledge, slightly startled, chuckled coldly.
“Heh… So that’s who’s been meddling behind the scenes—just a bunch of extinct has-beens clinging to existence. I don’t know what trick you used to survive, or how you managed to interfere with the final execution of my ritual…
“But if you think a couple of bygone echoes are enough to threaten me, you’re gravely mistaken. The situation still favors me. I control the transmigrator—the only outsider in this world. You lack the variables necessary to oppose me.”
With scorn in His voice, He addressed Manitou and Osiris. Their sudden emergence had been unexpected, yes, but as far as He could see, they were just fragments of will—insufficient to truly oppose Him. If He captured and dissected them, He could surely uncover the flaw in His ritual.
He still believed He had control over Dorothy, who was on the verge of ascending to Primordial Godhood. He held the transmigrator—the ultimate variable. No matter what chaos Osiris and Manitou had introduced, victory still belonged to Him.
Just as He was preparing to act, another familiar voice rang out in the space.
“You think… you control the transmigrator?”
The voice was gentle, serene—and with it came a silver moonlight that bathed the entire dark space. From within that glow, a graceful figure slowly descended.
Veiled gown, pale skin, flowing silver hair, and starry eyes…
The Mirror Moon Goddess, Queen of the Night Sky had appeared within the darkness, landing opposite Osiris and Manitou, forming a triangle that encircled the Lord of Knowledge.
“Selene… So you’re involved in this too.”
Seeing the unexpected arrival of Mirror Moon, the Lord of Knowledge spoke with recognition. In this world, the only being whose mind and movements He couldn’t fully perceive was the Lord of Shadow. That She had a hand in this came as no surprise.
“I’ve long heard of your name… It is an honor to meet you at last, respected Lord of Knowledge,” Selene said, offering a graceful bow. Her starry eyes then opened again as she continued softly:
“For your own sake… might I ask you to stop interfering with my daughter?”
“Stop…? Hmph.”
The Lord of Knowledge snorted coldly, then scoffed.
“Didn’t you just imply I only think I control the transmigrator? Making it sound like I don’t. If that’s true, why are you here begging me to stop interfering with Dorothea?”
With mockery in His tone, He challenged Mirror Moon. But after hearing Him out, Selene smiled gently and responded with quiet certainty.
“When, exactly, did you fall under the illusion… that my daughter was the transmigrator?”
“!?”
At those words, the Lord of Knowledge froze.
Selene’s statement unleashed a torrent of ominous thoughts in His mind. A flood of disquieting possibilities surged forth, causing Him to fall into a sudden stupor.
At last, after suppressing those turbulent thoughts, He steadied Himself and sternly replied.
“Dorothea possesses memories from other worlds… perceptions foreign to this world… even powers brought from beyond, that so-called ‘System’—all matching the profile of transmigrators over the last billion years.
“At this point… you still claim Dorothea isn’t a transmigrator?”
“She most certainly is not.”
This time, the reply didn’t come from Selene, nor from Osiris or Manitou, but from a new voice—a deep, commanding male voice, brimming with energy.
The voice was clearly familiar to the Lord of Knowledge. At the sound of it, He was once again stunned—this time for even longer. When He turned toward the source, He saw a figure He had never expected to appear.
It was a tall, powerfully built man—handsome beyond measure, his bare upper body sculpted like marble, chiseled muscle overlaid with divine golden patterns. His ornate skirt armor glittered with embellishments. Long golden hair floated behind him without wind. He looked like a living masterpiece, an ultimate work crafted by a master artisan.
“Hyperion…”
Seeing this figure, another ancient soul thought long destroyed, the Lord of Knowledge muttered his name in shock. Though He had once referred to Hyperion as His “most useful tool,” this reappearance filled Him with a thousand bad premonitions.
“Hello… puppet master behind the veil, the one who’s always pulled the strings behind my fate. Though we’ve long been entangled, I suppose this is our first proper meeting.”
Hyperion stopped walking, placed his hand over his chest, and calmly continued.
“So allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Hyperion, currently a professional god. In my previous life, I was just a university student preparing to graduate and hunting for jobs—my name was Huang Guanghao. I truly appreciate all the help you’ve given me on the path to divine employment… my esteemed senior.”
With calm composure, Hyperion introduced himself to the Lord of Knowledge and the other gods present. Selene, Osiris, and Manitou remained composed, unaffected by his words.
But the Lord of Knowledge was not so calm.
“You… Hyperion? You’re claiming you’re a transmigrator?! That… that’s impossible! I watched you constantly during the era convergence. I invaded your mind more than once… you had no memories of another world, no foreign perception, no ‘System’…
“You couldn’t possibly be a transmigrator—absolutely not!”
The Lord of Knowledge roared in disbelief. He couldn’t accept Hyperion’s claim. He had considered Hyperion his most perfect puppet—how could he have failed to notice such a fundamental truth?
But Hyperion simply smiled faintly and replied calmly.
“The reason you never knew I was a transmigrator… is because I was already guarding against you. From the moment I arrived in this world, I was aware of you. What you saw in my thoughts… was only what I allowed you to see.”
“You… knew about me from the beginning? That’s even more impossible! Before the Final Moment, no being—no god—was capable of perceiving my existence! How could you have possibly…”
The Lord of Knowledge’s voice trembled with disbelief. Yet even as He spoke, something seemed to dawn on Him. He suddenly turned toward Osiris and Manitou.
“…It was you. You’re the ones behind this… You did something, didn’t you?!”
Osiris remained silent. But Manitou chuckled and replied cheerfully.
“To be precise… it was me.”
“You… I clearly destroyed every last fragment of your will. How did you survive?”
Turning his eyes back to Manitou, the Lord of Knowledge asked the question that had long lingered in His mind. Manitou answered easily.
“I had a contingency—a safeguard I implanted in my own body long ago, just in case.
“It was a curse. A powerful curse infused with divine power, designed for autonomous activation and easy invocation. At the moment you tried to erase my final will fragment, it triggered automatically.”
Manitou exhaled smoke, her expression darkening slightly as she explained.
“The curse was originally intended to target you. But I knew you had already mostly taken control of Osiris. A single curse wouldn’t be enough. So at that final, most desperate moment… I turned the curse on myself. My last remaining fragment of will took the full blow.”
“You… cursed yourself?”
“That’s right~ I cursed myself. Let me tell you how terrifying this curse is. It’s an ultimate forgetting curse. The cursed will be completely forgotten by the world… by the entire cosmos. They will be erased from everyone’s awareness—rendered nonexistent. Even you would no longer be able to recognize that final fragment of me.
“But the price was immense. No matter how strong the curse was, it couldn’t entirely block out the awareness of a main god. My divine body was too vast for the curse to fully envelop. So I had to sever my will from my divine body—essentially giving up my godhood and power.
“And that’s not all. Though the curse allowed my fragment to escape, I lost all means to lift it. As a mere shred of will, I became unrecognizable to the world—and I couldn’t interact with it either. I couldn’t communicate, couldn’t influence anything.
“The once Great Soul became something more pitiful than a wandering wraith. That time… was truly unbearable. If not for the thought of revenge against you, I don’t think I’d have made it.”
Manitou puffed on her pipe as she recalled those memories, sighing. Though she had escaped through self-curse, she’d nearly lost everything. Unlike the Lord of Knowledge, whose wandering divine shard could still do many things, Manitou had become completely powerless, unable to influence anything or anyone.
Hearing Manitou's explanation, the Lord of Knowledge spoke again, His expression turning increasingly grave.
"A forgetting curse… If such a powerful curse was applied to just a single fragment of will, then indeed—even I wouldn’t be able to detect it… But the price would be becoming a soul almost completely severed from this world…
"And yet, in the end, you escaped that state… because of a transmigrator?"
The Lord of Knowledge voiced His deduction solemnly. Upon hearing this, Manitou grinned, puffed on her pipe, and answered with a wave of her hand.
“Bingo~ That’s right. My curse was targeted toward beings of this world—more precisely, toward all conscious entities present in the grand cosmos at the moment the curse was released, as well as any conscious beings born thereafter. In other words, the curse doesn’t affect those who come from outside this world. So transmigrators can still perceive me normally. From the very first day I escaped, I was waiting… waiting for the arrival of a new transmigrator in this cycle.
“And I also knew that you, you old fossil, would be looking for the transmigrator too—so I had to find them first.”
As Manitou spoke, many glowing, phantom gravestones began to appear around her. Gazing at them, Manitou shifted her eyes toward Hyperion and continued reflecting aloud.
“I didn’t know what method you would use to find the transmigrator—but I had to be faster. And in that moment, I realized I could exploit the nature of my own curse.
“During those long millennia, I wandered through nearly every realm, using what little power I had to leave behind traces—traces deliberately out of place in their surroundings. Because I was cursed, those marks couldn’t be perceived by any conscious being. No one could notice them.
“But a transmigrator was different. The curse didn’t affect them. They could see the marks I left scattered across the world. And because others couldn’t perceive those marks, the transmigrator would experience a ‘cognitive dissonance’—noticing something extraordinary, and unconsciously interacting with the information I left behind.
“The moment such an interaction occurred—even just a basic sense of curiosity—I would be able to sense it, and immediately pinpoint the transmigrator’s location… and appear before them.
“Pretty clever, right? Faster than your method, I bet?”
Manitou smiled as she addressed the Lord of Knowledge. The latter now stared daggers at Hyperion and spoke flatly.
“So… it was you who told him everything about me…”
“…Including everything about this world,” Hyperion continued calmly, recounting his past.
“When I had just transmigrated, I encountered the Great Soul. At first, I had a hard time believing what she told me—after all, it was too shocking. But after going through several things, and overcoming a few hurdles, she eventually gained my trust.”
“Hah… yeah, it took a while. This kid thought I was trying to harm him,” Manitou laughed, taking another puff of smoke.
“When he first arrived, I told him the truth about this world, the truth about you. I even helped him find his system plug-in—and told him not to use it. I knew you, Old Old Deng, would be looking for the transmigrator, so the system had to stay hidden at first.”
“And so, guided by the Great Soul,” Hyperion continued, “I began my journey in the final days of the Second Epoch—growing in strength, building my power base…”
Manitou nodded as Hyperion spoke, adding.
“According to the Great Soul’s judgment, the entire cosmos was under your surveillance—as the wandering will of the Lord of Knowledge. The moment Hyperion did anything noteworthy, you’d notice. So before that happened, we had to make sufficient preparations—especially to protect his mind.
“Our final solution relied on the fact that Hyperion’s system came from outside the world. Without activating it, we dissected and analyzed it. After countless experiments, I merged myself into the system, embedding my curse into it as well. As a result, the system was ‘forgotten’ by the world. No one but Hyperion could perceive it. This meant he could safely use its functions—even under your gaze. The curse would hide it from your attention.
“By sheer luck, he was already chosen as a candidate for Heaven’s Arbiter. With Osiris’s guidance, his system specialized in mental abilities. So we devised a trick: his true consciousness would reside inside the system, while the thoughts running in his physical brain would be a carefully crafted fake…”
Hyperion spoke with quiet composure. And as he laid bare the truth, the Lord of Knowledge’s already heavy heart sank even further.
“So… you’ve been lying to me from the start? Since the Battle of Sunset City… everything you showed me was a fabrication? A performance?”
“Heh… So you’ve been watching since Sunset City? I thought it might’ve been since Broken Sword Valley. You’ve really underestimated me,” Hyperion chuckled, then calmly continued.
“Yes. Ever since I learned the truth, I’ve been performing just for you. I hid every trace of being a transmigrator. I never spoke words from another world, never proposed concepts from outside this reality, never invented anything beyond the current age—I disguised myself as a perfect native.
“I used the cursed system to craft a false stream of thought that could pass your occasional mental inspections. I knew you were busy with many matters during the convergence of epochs and wouldn’t monitor me constantly. With Manitou’s help, I created deceptions you wouldn’t detect in the short term.
“In the end, just as we hoped, you were drawn to my ‘brilliance.’ You chose me as your puppet, your tool, and secretly aided me—helping me become a god.”
As Hyperion calmly explained, the Lord of Knowledge grew visibly more shaken. In the final days of the Second Epoch, He had believed He was manipulating Hyperion in secret—when in truth, He had been used to help Hyperion rise through the ranks of godhood, step by step.
“So… back in Osiris’s ruins… you knew exactly what was in that ruin, and that it had been altered by me…” the Lord of Knowledge said bitterly.
Hyperion nodded.
“That’s right. And before that, though we’d been using your help to ascend, we still hadn’t figured out a way to destroy you entirely. But afterward… things changed.”
He paused, and then Manitou took over.
“When I saw the way you altered the contents of that ruin, I immediately understood what you were planning. I realized what fate Osiris had hidden within the shadows—and finally understood something that had puzzled me for ages.
“That is… according to Osiris’s final act, transmigrators should only ever be born among the descendants of the Lord of Shadow—or within the future successor of the Lord of Shadow. But Hyperion, as a transmigrator, was merely the son of mortals. He had no ties to Shadow divinity—and his path was clearly aligned with Lantern. In theory, he should have no connection to Shadow whatsoever, right?”
Manitou posed the question, and Hyperion answered in thoughtful response.
“But once we saw your modified record of Osiris’s last testament… the answer became clear. Your plan was to have me ascend as the Lord of Lantern, then guide me into seizing the position of Lord of Shadow. Using ‘the resolution of Chaos’ as an excuse, you’d trick me into performing a catastrophic fusion ritual—one that merged opposing divinities, thereby devastating the existing divine system and paving the way for your greater scheme.
“And in that moment during the ritual… even if just for a split second… I did become the Lord of Lantern and Shadow. The progenitor of both. In that sense, I was the Lord of Shadow—and therefore, a valid transmigrator.”
Hyperion explained dispassionately. As he spoke, the runes glowing around the Lord of Knowledge began to shudder violently. His emotional state was visibly fraying.
“So… you used my manipulation! You exploited that ritual! You used…
“…The Eclipse Ritual!”
“Yes,” Manitou added.
“At first, when I realized you wanted to pull off such a dangerous fusion ritual, I planned to stop you immediately—once you helped Hyperion ascend, I was going to drop the act and confront you directly.
“But this kid… he wanted to go even bigger.”
With a smile, Manitou spoke frankly, and Hyperion followed with a calm response.
“After seeing your plan, I thought—why not go along with it? Complete the performance, all the way to the end…
“According to that altered message you left behind, the Eclipse Ritual you intended to induce me into performing wasn’t just a godhood-ascending ritual of Lantern and Shadow fusion. It was also a ritual of separation—an attempt to escape this grand cosmos and seek aid from divinities beyond.
“For ages… the Chaos of this universe has remained unresolved. You used the promise of acquiring a powerful external variable—foreign divinity capable of solving the Chaos—as bait to lure me into completing the Eclipse Ritual.
“We analyzed it. The ritual itself had no flaw in function. The key issue lay in the outcome. In your plan, if I followed your instructions and performed the Eclipse Ritual, I would only briefly attain the status of a Lantern-Shadow Primordial God.
“In that fleeting moment, I would indeed reach beyond the cosmos, but ultimately fail—dragged back by the pull of Chaos. Because all things in this world are linked to Chaos, everything I had would remain bound. The entire grand cosmos would then suffer a devastating divine catastrophe—and that was your true goal. A calamity meant to weaken the other Main Gods.”
So spoke Hyperion.
Then, Osiris—silent until now—resumed speaking to the Lord of Knowledge.
“Your plan was perfect. But it relied on one critical assumption—that Hyperion was a wholly native god, not a transmigrator.”
“But unfortunately for you…” Manitou added, grinning, “this kid is a transmigrator. You just didn’t know it. And in the end, you were the one who foolishly helped him complete every requirement for the ritual—who helped him carry out the Eclipse Ritual to the very end.
“You longed for the ritual… but we did too.”
The Lord of Knowledge was now so consumed by turmoil that He could only emit static, unable to speak a word.
And then, Hyperion gave the final statement:
“You already understand what happened, don’t you? I followed your plan exactly, executing the Eclipse Ritual you prepared for me. I perished in the very instant I ascended to Primordial Godhood. In that instant, I attempted to break free from the bonds of Chaos—to cross beyond the grand cosmos.
“During that process, Chaos stripped everything from me—my body… my divinity… my power… my memories in this world…
“Matter… energy… information… Everything this world had granted me was taken as I tried to flee. In the end, only one thing remained—my original soul as a transmigrator… the core data of my being. That, which came from beyond this world, could not be taken by Chaos.”
He spoke as if proclaiming a truth to the universe itself.
As an outsider, Hyperion had entered this world, achieved the loftiest heights—divinity, status, power, glory… and ultimately gave it all up, departing once more as an outsider, with nothing but his soul.
As Hyperion spoke, the black consciousness space around them began to tremble. The darkness rapidly receded, and a tide of countless runes began to surge violently.
All of it signaled a transformation in the space’s owner—someone was waking from a long slumber.
In the divine throne domain beyond this consciousness space, the silver-haired girl who had long lain dormant between the thrones slowly opened her eyes.
But unlike before—when she had been dominated by the Lord of Knowledge—there was no longer any chaotic sludge leaking from her gaze. Instead, what emerged were endless vast data-symbols, countless layered gates unfolding limitlessly.
Behind one gate was another, and another, and beyond those eternally layered gates… was truth.
Back in the collapsing consciousness realm, the former Emperor of Light—the greatest monarch this world had ever known—spread his arms wide before the frenzied Lord of Knowledge, declaring.
“My memories were largely stripped away. Even my remaining soul was shattered and fragmented. With only a broken, fragile soul, and a will that I can’t even explain, I drifted beyond the unpredictable, boundless void—toward a single destination. Toward the only direction I glimpsed in that moment of ascension—the sole path where hope could be found.
“I don’t know how much time passed. Eventually, I approached that place. And I was discovered by the supreme being of that outer domain.
“By fortune… I was noticed by the Supreme Pillar. One of the Three Transcendent Ones cast a gaze upon me. I was absorbed into the infinite records They oversees.
“I was analyzed, deciphered, seen through, understood. Even though I had lost all memories of this cosmos—even though my fragment of a soul drifted in utter confusion—Their supreme will deduced all causes and consequences from my bewildered self.
“In the end… I piqued Their interest. I became the embodiment of a wish—and They granted it. They extended part of Themself into the cosmos I came from—our cosmos, plagued by Chaos.
“They did not choose direct intervention, not wanting to harm our fragile world further. Instead, They granted us… a gift.
“A gift from one of the Supreme Three Pillars. A chance. A variable capable of shaking Chaos to its core—something we had all longed for.”
As Hyperion shouted his proclamation, countless echoing cracks rang out. Countless boundaries shattered in that moment.
Even the cage of realms built from Chaos that imprisoned the entire cosmos—the strongest barrier of all—collapsed with a thunderous roar. The Egg of Chaos began to convulse violently, desperately attempting to regenerate its protective shell. But it was in vain.
This prison, which had trapped countless gods and transmigrators across endless cycles, was now crumbling, disintegrating.
And from the rift in the collapsing cage, a gaze—profound and eternal—was cast in from beyond the cosmos.