Mystery: The Traveler Who Holds the Star Key

Dead silence.

With the definition of "The Fool" settled, the atmosphere on the bronze table became subtle.

"A lost apprentice?"

This brief description is like throwing a depth charge into a calm lake.

Audrey Hall, the most dazzling jewel of Backlund.

At this moment, she opened her bright green eyes wide, curiously observing the young man sitting at the end of the long table.

As an "audience member," she keenly discerned many things:

Lazy, casual, and with a touch of... nonchalance born of experience.

"Lost...does it mean lost in the spirit world? Or lost in the long river of history?"

Audrey's thoughts immediately began to wander.

After all, in her understanding...

To be personally recruited into the society by that mysterious and powerful Mr. Fool, and to be described as a "lost soul," one must have a tragic past unknown to others.

"It looks like it has a story to tell..."

In contrast to Miss Justice's romantic fantasies,

Alger's reaction to "The Hanged Man" was far more realistic and terrifying.

apprentice.

This word struck Alger like a hammer, slamming into his already taut nerves.

As a senior extraordinary member of the Church of Storms, he had spent so many years at sea that he knew all too well what this path represented.

In that distant, dark Quaternary period.

The Abraham family, who once controlled the "gate" and ruled the world!

Although that family has now fallen into decline and even become a pariah, haunted by a crazy curse.

But even a starved camel is bigger than a horse.

Every Abraham who survived was a monster who crawled out of mountains of corpses, seas of blood, and mad ravings.

Alger straightened his back without making a sound.

The slight sense of smugness that had arisen from taking advantage of the situation to eliminate Qilingus vanished instantly.

"A lost apprentice... could he be Abraham, just awakened from some ancient seal?"

"The tower... symbolizes destruction and rebirth."

Alger took a deep look at the silhouette sitting in the shadows.

We must be vigilant.

This is a variable with an extremely high level of danger.

……

At this moment.

Orian, who was being stared at by everyone, was actually panicking inside.

Of course, on the surface he was as steady as a rock.

But in reality?

He knew very well what kind of person he was.

Sequence 9, "Apprentice".

A "tactical retreat" expert who can only pass through walls.

Let alone compare to a seasoned veteran like the political commissar.

Even compared to the golden retriever that Miss Justice keeps at home...

Orion's gaze swept over Audrey subtly, and he silently covered his face in sorrow.

"If I remember correctly, Susie is already a Sequence 9, right?"

"In other words..."

"All my actions were as fierce as a tiger, but my actual combat strength is only about equal to that of a dog?"

"If we really fight, I might even get bitten to death by it."

To have transmigrated and ended up like this is truly something else.

Thinking of this, the "unfathomable" look in Orion's eyes couldn't help but take on a more genuine and heavy melancholy.

He leaned back, adopting the "boss sitting posture" that he had practiced countless times in front of the mirror over the past two days.

He crossed his hands over his abdomen, a half-smile playing on his lips.

They even had the leisure to give a slight nod to the blonde girl whose face was etched with "a thirst for knowledge."

His eyes held three parts indifference, three parts mockery, and four parts nonchalance.

There's no way around it; I can't let my public image crumble.

Good afternoon, everyone.

Orion broke the silence first.

The sound, filtered through the haze, possessed a frosted, magnetic quality.

"Don't worry about me, I'm just a traveler who has just found his way home."

After saying that, he shut his mouth and adopted a posture that said, "Please continue your performance."

The more you say, the more mistakes you make.

In this tarot gathering filled with cunning old foxes, maintaining an air of mystery is the best bulletproof vest.

"cough."

Klein, seated at the head of the table, lightly tapped his fingers on the table, aptly controlling the situation:

"As is customary, it's a transaction or exchange."

He did not explain further.

Because he is very satisfied with the current results.

The "Hanged Man" was clearly intimidated.

This is what he wanted: to make the "Tower" an unpredictable piece.

This was done to balance the increasingly unbalanced power within the Tarot Club.

"Mr. Fool."

Alger immediately came to his senses and became even more respectful than usual.

He materialized those few yellowed pages and pushed them to the top of the long table:

"This is the payment I promised."

"Regarding Zilingus's death, thank you for your help."

These are nineteen pages of Russell the Great's diary that I have collected.

Alger paused, somewhat embarrassed, and pushed the several parchment sheets that had materialized in front of him to the top of the long table:

"But due to memory limitations, please allow me to submit it in three parts."

"This is page six for today."

Journal?

Orion raised an eyebrow.

He almost lost his composure when he saw the stack of papers that flew towards Klein out of thin air.

Is this the legendary... "The Romantic History of Huang Tao"?

Even in this solemn and sacred gray mist hall.

As Klein solemnly accepted the diary, Orion couldn't help but let a wild smile creep up his face.

Klein didn't notice the strange look in "The Tower's" eyes.

His attention was entirely focused on those few yellowed parchment sheets.

He leaned back, letting the gray mist obscure the emotions in his eyes, and began to read.

Dead silence.

Inside the magnificent palace of the giants, only the occasional soft rustling of fingers turning pages could be heard.

This is a silence belonging to the gods.

Audrey and Alger held their breath, not daring to make a sound.

They were afraid of disturbing Mr. Fool's communication with the "past".

But in Orion's eyes, the style of the scene was completely different.

He secretly glanced at the figure sitting upright in the head seat, who seemed extremely majestic.

The corners of his mouth desperately wanted to turn up, but he had to forcefully suppress them.

"Tsk tsk tsk."

"Reading 'Huang Tao's Romantic History' with such a serious expression..."

"Fellow villager, you have a really strong mentality."

Who keeps a diary if they're a decent person?

Can what's written down truly reflect one's true feelings?

This feeling of "being the only one sober in a world of drunks" made him almost unable to sit still in that high-backed chair.

Fortunately, he held back.

His shoulders trembled very slightly.

This subtle movement caught Audrey's eye, causing her heart to tighten slightly:

"Is it because we are grieving for that long-forgotten history?"

"Or did Russell's diary remind him of a familiar name?"

"Good heavens, Mr. Tower really does have some connection to the era of Emperor Roselle..."

The innocent "Justice" girl's eyes instantly softened with admiration.

……

Read.

To maintain his highbrow image, Mr. Fool extracted two "godly common sense" principles from Russell's pile of nonsense.

"First, the law of conservation of extraordinary characteristics."

As soon as the words were spoken, the various expressions on the faces of the people at the long table became quite interesting.

Alger and Derrick remained expressionless, clearly having long been accustomed to this cruel law of survival.

Only Audrey turned deathly pale, clearly shocked by the cannibalistic nature of "extraordinary beings being equal to potion ingredients," which shattered her worldview on the spot.

Orion took it all in, a playful smile curving his lips.

Without giving her a chance to catch her breath, Klein dropped a second bombshell:

"Second, the law of conservation of similar sequences."

This time, it was Alger's turn to get restless.

This touched upon a concept he was unfamiliar with, causing him to instinctively lean forward and blurt out:

Why "similar"?

Can the methods be interchanged?

Klein smiled.

He didn't answer, but instead leaned back tactically, revealing that classic "middleman" smile:

What will you give up to get the answer?

The scene instantly became awkward.

Alger, who couldn't afford it, and Audrey, who didn't understand, both got stuck.

Just then.

A soft laugh broke the awkward silence.

Orion, who had been silent all along, suddenly moved.

He stretched out his long, slender fingers and pressed down on the card in front of him that was called "The Tower".

This one move instantly attracted everyone's attention.

"This is not a difficult riddle, Mr. Hanged Man."

Orion's voice was languid, yet it carried a chilling undertone.

He didn't look at Alger, but instead stared down at the collapsed tower on the card, as if talking to himself:

"In this crazy world, 'proximity' never means friendliness."

He raised his head, his deep eyes piercing Alger, a cruel smile curving his lips:

"It means... compatibility."

"And compatibility means... appetite."

boom!

Compatibility means appetite!

Those few words were like an ice pick with barbs, stabbing hard into Alger's brain.

All the wonderful fantasies he had developed because of the "exchange of means" were shattered in that instant.

The pupils contracted violently.

Cold sweat instantly soaked through my back.

He understood.

He understood completely!

The so-called "conservation" and the so-called "interchange".

Its essence is actually—

High-sequence strong individuals strive to complete their own abilities.

For those with similar extraordinary abilities, that instinctive... devouring and hunting!

What kind of "more choices" is this?

This is clearly a "wider prey range"!

Alger sat stiffly in the chair, his gaze towards the young man completely changed.

That's no longer about looking at a learned scholar.

Instead, it's like watching a...

Survivors who have witnessed or even personally experienced the tragedy of cannibalism.

"Abraham..."

Alger trembled silently in his heart, forgetting even to breathe.

"What bloody truth did he see behind this surname?"

The bronze table was deathly silent.

Only Mr. Fool remained seated behind the thick fog.

He tapped his fingers lightly on the table, producing a soft, ambiguous sound.

Hey.