The Kingdom of Graham.
"Quickly, he can't have gone far! Scour every village and town nearby. We can't let him slip away again!"
"Commander, is it truly necessary to go this far? He's the Holy Son..."
"Shut your mouth!"
The leader roared. "Remember this: he was the Holy Son of Alaya. Now, he's just a fugitive named Hlevi, a traitor to the Alaya Church!"
The thunder of chaotic hooves swept past as a band of knights, followed by Church fanatics and royal soldiers, charged off in pursuit.
Long after they had passed,
A golden-haired, blue-eyed man in light armor appeared at the end of the road, walking slowly. A longsword hung at his hip, his gaze as sharp as a blade.
It was the very man once hailed as the Holy Son of the Alaya Church.
Hlevi.
Of House Berkeley—a forgotten name.
Perhaps by luck, he had just missed the pursuit party; their paths had been opposite. The hunters were destined to return empty-handed yet again.
Hlevi had always been fiercely loyal to both the Alaya Church and the Kingdom of Graham, his faith unshakable—until the defeat in the war of faith became another turning point in his life.
To cover up the fact that thirty thousand believers had abandoned Alaya during the conflict, the Church had chosen to temporarily detain Hlevi. He had accepted this without complaint.
But what followed made him see the Alaya Church for what it truly was. The Pope demanded he lead the faithful in usurping the throne of Graham.
Hlevi couldn't accept it.
He was the Holy Son, yes, but King Graham VII had shown him great kindness. He was equally loyal to the kingdom.
He had demanded to know if this was the will of Alaya, but they both knew Alaya hadn't bestowed any blessings or oracles in a long time.
It was as if the god had abandoned his followers.
Disappointed in Alaya and seeing through the Pope's ambition—knowing the Pope was merely using faith to satisfy his own lust for power—Hlevi acted.
Decisively, he broke out of his cell and severed ties with the Church, becoming a heretic and an enemy of the faith.
As the former Holy Son, Hlevi possessed formidable strength. Both he and the Pope were Tier 2, though Hlevi was slightly weaker. Capturing him would be no easy feat for the Church.
Seeing a few people nearby, Hlevi tensed, ready for a fight, but they simply watched as he walked past.
None made a move.
Gazing at Hlevi's retreating back, Mei remarked: "The ultimate spark was the Pope's ambition. This is the divergence point; Hlevi's defection accelerated the Pope's plan to seize power."
Exactly.
History began to shift from this moment. The specific cause remained unclear, but Old Man Fu insisted on his vision of the future: "It all depends on the day of Graham IX's succession. If Graham IX successfully ascends the throne, history will remain unchanged."
Old Man Fu didn't believe the history of the Kingdom of Graham would truly unfold as Mei had claimed; under questioning, he insisted on seeing who was right.
This was his profession!
He would not be wrong!
And so,
Old Man Fu demanded that Mei and the others witness history unfolding with their own eyes to see who was correct. For Mira and Gana, observing history from this perspective was a fascinating experience.
Gana nodded sagely. "So that's the Holy Son of Alaya. He seems to have some talent—probably a bit stronger than me."
Mira asked, "Where to next?"
Mei replied.
"The capital of the Kingdom of Graham."
BOOM—
A resonant, heavy bell echoed through the capital city. Citizens thronged the streets, their jubilant celebrations tinged with an air of gravity and apprehension.
Today was the day of Graham IX's succession, as well as the anniversary of the deaths of Graham VII and VIII. Years ago, Gilbert's suicidal assassination had struck a devastating blow to the kingdom, claiming both the king and the crown prince.
The rise of Antut.
The crushing defeat in the war of faith.
Each event had weakened the Kingdom of Graham further. They yearned for a wise ruler—a monarch who could reclaim divine grace and lead them to greatness once more.
"So this is the capital!"
Mira was in awe.
It was more prosperous than she'd imagined; in terms of commerce, economy, and architectural beauty, it was undoubtedly a pinnacle of the era.
As a religious state, much of the architecture bore distinct religious hallmarks—not just as tokens of faith, but as reflections of a deep and unique aesthetic tradition.
"Ah!"
A child holding a wooden toy clumsily bumped into Mira, falling onto his bottom. He scrambled up, panic on his face.
"Sorry! I... I didn't mean to!"
"It's alright."
Mira smiled, ruffling the child's hair, then turned to follow Mei and the others.
Through the crowd,
A young man in commoner's garb watched Mei's retreating back as she vanished into the crowd, momentarily dazed. Beside him, an individual spoke in a low, respectful voice.
"High Priest, what's wrong?"
Visad shook off the daze.
"Nothing. I probably just mistook her for someone else."
With that,
He looked toward the royal palace tower, his expression complex. As a high priest of an enemy nation, his presence here was dangerous, but he felt a powerful urge to come and honor Gilbert. After some hesitation, he had come.
Gilbert had been more than just his benefactor and leader; he'd been a father figure to Visad.
Risking a visit to honor him was understandable.
Because of Gilbert's assassination of Graham VII, this succession ceremony was held within the palace, shielding the new king from public view.
This meant whatever happened inside would remain hidden for a time—a security measure the royals deemed necessary.
To ensure safety, the royals had requested the Alaya Pope personally crown Graham IX; with the Pope's protection, there could be no flaws!
Mei and the others walked boldly through the palace gates, the guards seemingly unable to detect their presence. Gana was fascinated.
"They really can't see us?"
He waved a hand in front of a guard, who frowned and looked toward him, making Gana quickly freeze in panic.
Mei and Old Man Fu ignored the guards, talking openly as they strolled leisurely through the palace as if they were exploring their own home.
BOOM—
Another bell rang.
Old Man Fu sensed the unusual atmosphere within the palace, his brow furrowing as he struggled to understand the turn of events.
"The divergence point appearing here is illogical. Neither the Pope nor Alaya should have the power to warp the future."
Even Old Man Fu lacked such power; he was merely a seer, unable to intervene in the future. Any intervention he made was simply a predetermined part of that future.
Mei spoke briefly.
"Something unexpected has occurred."
Old Man Fu didn't ask what she meant; it was likely some event or individual capable of intervening in spacetime or affecting the world lines.
Forget Tier 3.
Not even Tier 4 or Tier 5 possessed such power.
As a mere gravedigger for civilizations, he knew his limits. He shouldn't know too much about these high-level affairs; the more he knew, the more his life was in danger.
Any day, he could be caught in the web of causality.
Don't doubt it.
Higher tiers truly possessed such world-shaping power.
Old Man Fu had seen it in other mission worlds—unimaginable powers that could manipulate causality and spacetime to an extreme.
You'd die never knowing you'd unknowingly been a pawn in their hands.
Old Man Fu understood.
Events at a higher level had taken place in this world, and reality had been subtly influenced, altering the course of history.
BOOM—
The third bell rang.
Immediately, a band of Church priests and knights rushed into the palace, swiftly seizing control of all the forces within.
"By the Pope's order, all resistance shall be deemed treason against Alaya! Kill without mercy!"
"Understood!"
Priests and knights roared past, completely oblivious to Mei and the others. Mira looked toward the coronation site.
A flock of frightened white doves scattered into the sky.
Old Man Fu said to Mei, "The Graham royal bloodline is favored by Alaya. They have no reason to betray him, and the Church has no reason to purge them unless something has happened to Alaya, and the Church has lost control."
His deduction was correct.
Alaya wouldn't pointlessly weaken his followers' strength. However, since Sosion was trapped in the Alaya dimension, the uncontrolled Pope was gradually unleashing his ambition.
The Kingdom of Graham's future was clear. Old Man Fu had no interest in seeing the next scene; he was more interested in Mei now.
"Let's go."
...
Two years later.
The group arrived at the edge of Antut, the Land of Miracles. Old Man Fu didn't dare set foot inside, only observing from a distance atop a mountain.
"As the Mother God cult's followers grow, the faith Saintess Stella gathers becomes even more powerful. The moment I enter Antut, I'll likely be suppressed into an ordinary person."
Over the past two years, Old Man Fu had traveled to many places, but he remained so wary of Antut that he refused to step foot inside. It was practically a divine exclusion zone.
Even though Antut had never initiated foreign wars or needlessly antagonized any god or king, its deterrent power continued to grow.
Years ago, Antut's followers hadn't even reached ten million, and the tyrant's fate was still fresh in everyone's mind; now, with over ten million followers, it was even more formidable.
It was no exaggeration: no empire or kingdom dared to go to war with Antut alone, and no god or king was its equal.
Mira knew of Antut's strength, but Fu's words still stunned her. She asked, "Old Man Fu, can you predict Antut's future?"
"A bit."
Mira was curious. "How long is Antut's history?"
"About a thousand years."
"A thousand years!"
Mira had never heard of a nation with a thousand-year history, but for the "Land of Miracles," it felt entirely reasonable.
"A shame."
Gana was disappointed. "I was hoping to visit the cathedral and worship the Mother God. Guess I won't get the chance—I'm curious what she looks like."
A faint, pleasant sound drifted on the wind.
Mira paused.
"Is that... a hymn?"
The solemn, sacred song was filled with untouchable devotion, drifting through Antut's skies and bringing peace and comfort to the heart.
Somehow, an image of a girl naturally formed in Mira's mind—shining golden hair, kind and compassionate, a pure gift to the mortal realm.
The song seemed to carry a message.
And a sliver of the girl's longing.
"Is that Saintess Stella singing?"
To Mira's question,
Old Man Fu answered simply, "Most likely."
Just like before, Mira and Mei only observed Antut from afar before moving on; it seemed it was never the right time to enter.
Thus,
Mei and Old Man Fu acted as witnesses to civilizations and history, observing the rise and fall of kingdoms and empires, the birth and death of gods and kings.
Occasionally, Old Man Fu would stubbornly argue with Mei over a kingdom's future or bet on the rise or fall of a god or king.
They would spend centuries verifying a result, usually ending with Old Man Fu conceding defeat.
Mei rarely spoke, quietly witnessing history with the others. To Mira, it felt as if she was like the flow of time—silent yet omnipresent.
It was a strange feeling.
Mira had never imagined she could observe the world from such a perspective, participating in bets on gods and kings as a witness.
One hundred years.
Two hundred years.
Three hundred years.
"..."
Time flowed, and Mira and Gana's study of the Tome of Darkness grew deeper. Discarding those twisted and inhumane secret arts, their progress was slow, but the longevity granted by their research meant time wasn't so pressing.
Five hundred years passed.
Mira finally entered Tier 2.
The natural progression didn't bring a massive leap in strength; even before Tier 2, she'd been drawing on Tier 2 power through the Tome of Darkness, which was why she'd lived so long.
Strength was secondary; Mira's greatest frustration after five hundred years was that she still hadn't summoned the courage to take the final step.
One night, she stealthily climbed through the window into Mei's room, deciding to strike first. Her heart was beating so loudly it felt like thunder.
But when she scrambled inside, she met Mei's calm, unruffled gaze, and her face turned as red as a ripe apple. Panicked, she lost all her composure.
"Haha, you're still awake! I think I'm in the wrong room!"
With that, she scrambled back out the window and fled.
...
Time flowed like water.
Eight hundred years slipped away.
In such a long span of time, ordinary humans would have seen many generations pass, but for gods and kings, as long as they didn't fall in battle, these years weren't enough to end their lives.
As the final vibration subsided, the Alaya dimension finally completed its self-repair, once again reconnecting with the real world.
Faint, invisible thoughts and information moved through the dimension, finally converging at a single point to awaken someone.
Dim eyes flared.
Sosion opened his eyes, looking toward the real world.
"Finally..."
Eight hundred years.
Though not quite an age of massive shifts, the changes in the world were still significant. The wars between gods and kings hadn't stopped, and countless nations had risen and fallen.
The Kingdom of Graham was entirely buried in the river of history, replaced by the Alaya Holy State, which was now trembling under the pressure of Antut's faith.
First, a purge of faith was necessary.
Sosion's eyes were cold and heartless as he looked toward the Alaya Holy State's cathedral. He had wasted too much time; this time, he would personally intervene!
...
The Alaya Holy State.
BONG—
A holy bell echoed through the cathedral. The aged, hunched Pope held the holy scriptures, preaching Alaya's faith and glory to the believers.
A crown of thorns adorned his head, symbolizing the king of both church and state.
"Alaya descended from the heavens, witnessing all the world's suffering. He called upon all to believe in him; he absolved them of their sins, washed away their pain, and bestowed upon them deliverance..."
His words were cut short.
A golden spear streaked through the air, piercing the Pope's chest and pinning him to the statue of Alaya. Blood flowed down—an act of atonement.
The Pope gasped in terror.
Looking up, he saw the Alaya statue coming to life, its eyes shining with a liquid gold radiance. Cold and indifferent, Alaya had descended.
Sosion passed judgment on the Pope.
"You—"
"Are guilty."
Sosion hadn't descended in his true body, merely a projection of his will. Returning to the real world, his first priority was a massive purge of the Alaya Holy State.
Ensuring the believers' faith was unwavering, and then raising the Holy State's combat power without restraint, he intended to launch another war of faith against Antut.
This time, he would personally lead this war.
If he could devour Antut—even just a portion of its followers—the Alaya Holy State's power would expand significantly.
Of course, on his own, he couldn't shake Antut.
After eight hundred years, Antut was showing signs of decline from its peak; many were watching greedily, and Sosion wasn't the only one plotting against it.
...
Antut.
Visad's appearance remained young; Saintess Stella's blessing combined with his own subjective power had granted him an effect like eternal youth.
Listening to the reports of the other priests, he frowned.
"High Priest, the number of Antut's followers is beyond estimation. The current issues are serious; while the devout believers are still holding strong, many of the lay followers have fallen into depravity. This trend is uncontrollably spreading to the upper ranks..."
"Antut has no food shortage, no hunger, and no disease, but this has become its biggest problem. A world without worries has created empty and hollow hearts, and many have even begun to take their own lives..."
History proved that problems always exist; they are never truly solved, only resurfacing in new forms within new environments.
Antut had become a utopia.
The reality told Visad that a utopia was merely a fantasy; a world without any trouble would eventually lead the human spirit toward self-destruction.
He remained silent.
This problem was unsolvable.
Visad was forced to seek a solution from Stella.
Inside the Holy Cathedral, unlike Visad and the other priests, Stella had grown quite aged, yet her compassion and holiness remained unchanged.
She gave Visad an answer.
"Visad, nothing in this world remains eternal. Birth, aging, sickness, and death are the objective laws of this universe; all things have their seasons of prosperity and decline. I once wished to share the compassion and love Mother God bestowed upon me with every soul on earth, but I have finally realized that such a feat is impossible."
"When the people of the era needed it, Antut became their Utopia and their Land of Miracles. But when Antut is discarded by the objective laws of time and progress, we must accept that reality."
"It was not we who created Antut. It was born because it was where human hearts turned and what the era demanded. You only need to do your utmost; do not take the burden of this collapse upon yourself."
"..."
Visad remained silent for a long time.
"I understand."
The Saintess and he had personally founded Antut, watching it grow from a single chapel into the greatest miraculous site on this land.
A borderless concept of a Utopia.
And now, watching it all seemingly on the verge of crumbling, his heart was heavy. Just as the Saintess said, he could only do his best.
He prayed that this sanctuary would fade just a little more slowly.
...
The ethereal, pleasant sound of flowing water echoed in the ears.
It brought peace to the spirit.
Mei stood before Mira's grave. Upon the headstone sat a wreath woven from fresh flowers. An aged, hunched Gana, leaning on a staff, handed the thick travel journal to Mei.
A human life is exceedingly brief.
Mira's life might not have been spectacular, but she had been content.
Mei flipped to the very last page of the journal, to the words Mira had left for her.
[ It is truly a regret that I can only walk this journey with you this far. If I must leave a final word, would you please remember me? ]
These brief words likely contained all the courage Mira possessed. She had not recorded the events of their centuries of travel in the journal.
She did not want those things passed down.
She only wished to keep them as her own private treasure.
In the vast river of time, she might only be a fleeting meteor in Mei's memory, but for her, that was enough.
"Cough, cough."
Gana, his back bent, said, "I don't have the strength to go running around with you lot anymore. I'll just stay here from now on. Do you want to take the Tome of Darkness with you?"
Hm?
He received no response.
Gana turned to look; Mei had already departed at some unknown moment. He let out a raspy chuckle and began trembling his way back with his staff, muttering to himself.
"Tch, I haven't got many good years left myself. I really don't know what to do with this thing. If it causes some mess in the future, it's got nothing to do with me."
After all, it contained an Evil God. While Gana was alive, things might be fine; what his descendants might do with the Tome of Darkness after he passed was something only the heavens knew.