Mystery: The Traveler Who Holds the Star Key

Dead silence.

After that esteemed name echoed, the world seemed to be muted.

The feeling of being squeezed by space, as if it were about to crush one's soul, disappeared.

The nauseating stench of blood from the madman behind him was also completely cut off.

Instead, there is a sense of weightlessness that is illusory, floating, yet incredibly peaceful.

Orion felt like a feather piercing through the endless crimson tide.

Finally, it floated lightly down onto a solid surface.

He didn't open his eyes immediately, but instead controlled his still-spasming muscles and took a slow, deep breath.

The air was cold and dry, without the characteristic soot of Backlund or the stench of sewers.

The bet was won.

Orion's heart was still pounding in his chest, but he couldn't help but smile.

As a time traveler who is well-versed in the mysteries of the world.

He knew all too well what that less than one-second time difference meant.

If he traveled to a point in time three months earlier.

The soul of Zhou Mingrui had not yet awakened in that body.

The "turning-around ceremony" that ushered in a new era hadn't even taken place yet...

Or perhaps, even if it was only a few weeks earlier, when that "Fool" was still in his cautious, precarious "newbie" phase in Tingen...

Therefore, that mention of your honored name will most likely just disappear without a trace.

Klein Moretti back then wasn't like he is now.

Have enough confidence and curiosity to respond to a strange and dangerous distress signal.

His fate was to be skinned alive and dismembered by that madman from the Aurora Society.

They become a pile of rotten flesh used to please the "true creator".

Even the soul is imprisoned within that twisted flesh and blood, howling in agony.

Praise your luck.

Or rather... praise Mr. "Fool".

Orion suddenly opened his eyes.

As far as the eye could see, there was an endless expanse of ancient, grayish-white mist.

They are like a high wall that separates time and history, surging at the edge of this space.

In the center of the mist, the magnificent bronze table, which seemed to be used by giants, stood silently.

The gaze follows the mottled patina upwards.

At the very head of the long table, shrouded in a thick, impenetrable gray fog.

A figure was sitting there calmly.

He dwells above reality, looking down upon all the humility and struggle.

Fool.

Klein Moretti.

At this moment, this mysterious ruler seems to be maintaining an unchanging posture.

One hand rested casually on the edge of the table, without making any movement.

But in reality, if we could have a lens that could see through that layer of gray fog...

You'll then notice that this "deity" doesn't look so calm now.

What's going on?

Klein stared at the blood-soaked figure that had suddenly "fallen" out of the crimson star.

The pupils hidden behind the gray fog trembled slightly.

He swore that he had only been there when the crimson star was abnormally expanding and contracting.

Driven by a desire to gain control over the gray fog, a small connection was tentatively established.

I wanted to see who was praying, or what kind of spirit was causing the disturbance.

Based on previous experience, at most you can hear a few indistinct murmurs or see a few images.

Why did they pull people up here directly?

and……

Klein activated his spiritual vision without making a sound.

The young man in front of me was a truly pitiful sight.

He was wearing an old trench coat that was clearly too big for him and had been torn to shreds by a sharp weapon.

Dark red blood soaked through half of his shoulder. Was it a real physical injury, or a wound projected by a spirit?

Most importantly, the tone with which this guy recited the honored name just now...

That level of skill, that resolute determination to go all in.

It was as if he had recited this name countless times, just waiting for this moment of salvation.

Could it be some secret, fanatical believer?

Or was it a victim of a high-level game?

As a former "keyboard warrior" and now a "charlatan in the making".

Klein's mental theater exploded instantly, and his alert level went up to the maximum.

But he remained outwardly calm, tapping his fingers lightly on the table.

Maintaining the absolute silence that belongs to the "fools".

He is waiting.

Wait for the other party to speak first, or break down first.

However, to his surprise...

The blood-covered man did not look around in panic like the "Justice" lady had done before.

It didn't immediately adopt a defensive stance like the "Hanged Man."

Orion moved.

He endured the excruciating pain, as if his spirit were being torn apart, without attempting to stand up—

That would be too aggressive and wouldn't fit his current identity as a "person seeking help".

He simply adjusted his posture, transforming himself from a disheveled, limp state into a submissive kneeling position.

Then, he looked up.

There was no fear or doubt in those deep eyes.

There is only one type, like a sailor who has spent half his life adrift at sea.

Finally, I saw a lighthouse-like sense of relief, a mixture of exhaustion and ecstasy.

That was a smile that said, "I've finally found my people."

"You're great."

Orian's voice was hoarse and weak, yet it possessed a strange, elegant rhythm.

It was as if he were not in dire straits, but attending a grand court banquet.

"Mr. Fool..."

He lowered his head, placed his right hand on his left chest, and performed an ancient and standard aristocratic salute:

"A lost 'apprentice' salutes you."

At the head of the long table, Klein paused slightly as he tapped the table.

apprentice?

Does it refer to the extraordinary individuals who follow the "apprentice" path?

This guy... not only knows my name...

They even seem completely unsurprised by this "recruiting" mechanism?

Does he know who I am?

No, he seemed convinced that I was the mysterious ruler.

This feeling of being "omniscient and omnipotent" made Klein feel a little uneasy.

But at the same time, it also relieved him.

At least, the other party is communicable and holds goodwill or respect.

You are injured.

Klein finally spoke.

His voice, filtered through the gray fog, became deep and resonant.

You can't tell his original age or emotions; all that's left is a divine indifference.

"Yes, Your Excellency."

Orion neither denied it nor tried to elicit sympathy or cry foul.

He remained kneeling, speaking rapidly but clearly and logically—

Because he knew that in this space, the "Fool" could sever the connection at any time if he wanted to.

"A mad dog from the Aurora Club is chasing me."

To survive, I had no choice but to risk reciting your name, praying for a glimmer of hope.

Orion raised his head, his gaze fixed intently on the thick fog:

"I know this presumptuous act has disturbed your peace. It is a desecration."

"Therefore, I request to make a deal with you."

transaction?

Klein raised an eyebrow.

That's very "adult-like," he likes this kind of rhythm.

He is now penniless and lacks nothing but intelligence and extraordinary knowledge.

"What do you intend to use to quell my...displeasure at being disturbed?"

Klein emphasized the word, asking it in a nonchalant tone.

Orion took a deep breath.

He knew that ordinary gold coins or low-sequence potion recipes were simply not good enough for this "fellow countryman who had traveled through time".

To secure a strong foothold in the Tarot Club and achieve an unshakeable position, he needs to drop a bombshell.

A bomb of sufficient weight, yet not so dangerous that Klein would feel he needed to be eliminated immediately.

"A secret."

Orion raised a blood-stained finger, his eyes growing deep and unfathomable.

"A secret about the whereabouts of the last few 'blasphemous cards' created by the emperor who called himself 'Caesar' and Russell Gustav."

At this point, Ollie paused for a moment.

He knew that empty promises were worthless in front of General Ke.

He had to pay a small "deposit" first to prove his worth.

Without the slightest hesitation, he spoke as if discussing the weather.

He casually tossed out the coordinates that were enough to drive the entire mysterious world mad:

"For example... that Black Emperor card, which governs 'laws' and 'rules'."

"It is currently tucked inside the spine of the hardcover book 'The Life of Russell Gustave' in the Russell Memorial Gallery of the Backlund Museum."

thump.

Klein's heart skipped a beat, and even the fingers resting on the edge of the table almost trembled uncontrollably for a moment.

Black Emperor!

Backlund Museum!

Spine compartment!

These three points are so specific and detailed! They don't seem fabricated at all!

If true, this would mean a ticket to the sequence of true gods.

It lies quietly in the city where he lives, within easy reach!

Who exactly is this guy?

Even this kind of secret scheme that Rosell the Great was keeping under his nose was known?!

Klein suppressed the turmoil surging within him and tried his best to maintain the persona of "The Fool" so as not to collapse.

He took a deep look at the young man kneeling on the ground, and his previous contempt and casualness completely disappeared.

Instead, there is a sense of solemnity when facing opponents of the same knowledge level.

"Very interesting."

After a long while, the figure behind the gray mist slowly leaned back, becoming more relaxed.

That's a sign of approval and acceptance.

"In this day and age, there are still people who remember Russell's...bad habit of hiding things."

Orion breathed a sigh of relief.

He knew he had secured his place in the competition.

"So, what do you need?"

The Fool's voice rang out again.

"Want me to kill that 'mad dog' for you?"

Even so, Klein's heart began to pound:

Hey, I'm just a Sequence 8 "Clown" who's not good at direct combat.

Although he can act like a mysterious and powerful figure above this gray fog.

But if I were really asked to kill those lunatics from the Aurora Society, who are corrupted by their own "true creator"...

With my small arms and legs, I really can't do it!

"No, you don't need to do it yourself."

Orion shook his head, a playful smile—a mixture of gentlemanly manners and gambler's madness—appearing on his pale face.

All I need is your current 'gaze,' and... a little bit of spiritual protection.

"As long as I can get rid of this last ten minutes of 'spatial repulsion,' the rest..."

A ruthless glint flashed in his eyes:

"I can handle it myself."

Klein remained silent for two seconds.

Just maintaining the connection and providing some spiritual support? That's simple.

Above this gray fog, he was indeed able to temporarily stabilize the opponent's condition.

They even exploit the unique properties of the fog to interfere with real-world divination and tracking.

"Can."

The fool gave a succinct promise.

Immediately afterwards, twenty-two tarot cards, shimmering with a faint light, appeared out of thin air and spread out on the long table like stars.

"To ensure fairness in the transaction, and also to facilitate future...communication."

Klein flicked his finger, and the card flipped over to face Orion.

"Pick one."

Orion looked at the familiar cards.

Magician, hermit, stars, moon...

His gaze passed straight through those seemingly beautiful symbols without any hesitation.

It landed on a card with a collapsed image and a sense of oppression.

It was a tall tower that had been struck by lightning and burst into flames.

The falling of someone from the tower symbolizes the destruction of the old order, but also the rebirth after being put to the brink of death.

Just like him now.

Having died once and fled all the way, I only hope to be reborn here.

Orion reached out and lightly pressed his hand on the card.

He raised his head, meeting the gaze of the deity watching him, a smile playing on his lips—a smile that blended bloodlust with gentlemanly grace.

"The tower."

"I choose 'The Tower'."