Lars moved through the ship's corridors at a steady, controlled pace. His gaze lingered where it needed to, sharp but unassuming, taking in corners, doors and passing crew. It was routine, but not the kind one treated lightly.
He had just left the dining hall. The aftertaste of a proper meal still lingered, and in one hand he carried a small bundle of sweet pies for Halsey. In the other, a bottle of bourbon. He poured a measured amount into the cap as he walked, drinking it without breaking stride.
As he turned a corner, he came face to face with Alain's butler.
Charlie stood behind a wheeled trolley, stacked neatly with multiple pieces of luggage, more than what seemed necessary for simple handling. The man offered a courteous bow. Lars returned it with a short nod, his eyes briefly sweeping across the cases.
They passed each other without pause.
A moment later, a dull thud echoed behind him.
One of the cases had slipped from the trolley and hit the floor, its latch snapping loose just enough to crack it open.
Lars didn't turn.
But something inside that case alarmed his spiritual intuition, as if it was giving him a calling. Subtle, but unmistakable. He kept walking calmly, until he reached the next corner, stopping out of sight as he remained there, listening.
Behind him, Charlie had already crouched down, murmuring quietly about his own clumsiness. Yet his hands moved with precision, quickly sealing the case, making sure nothing remained exposed before lifting it back onto the trolley.
The wheels rolled again, steady as before.
Lars leaned slightly, just enough to catch sight of him.
Lars stepped back into the corridor and began to follow, keeping his distance and matching pace without drawing attention. The creak of the ship and the low murmur of activity masked his movements as he trailed the butler deeper inside.
Eventually, Charlie stopped at a staff storage room and pushed the trolley inside. Lars waited a few seconds, then slipped in after him.
The room was dim, filled with crates, supplies, and stacked equipment. Charlie was already unloading the luggage, placing each case with deliberate care, as if following a prearranged layout.
Lars remained near the shadows, watching. He tracked each movement, noting exactly where that particular case ended up. Afterwards, he simply waited for the butler to finish and leave.
The moment Charlie left the storage room, the sound of the trolley wheels fading down the corridor, Lars moved.
He crossed the space in a few long strides, heading straight for the section where the luggage had been placed. His eyes locked onto the case he had marked earlier, the one that had fallen. He quickly crouched and opened it.
Inside, there was a dark, iron-black broadsword. It rested there in silence, yet its presence filled the air immediately. It was heavy, oppressive, like standing in the aftermath of a battlefield. Lars's gaze sharpened as he took it in. The blade wasn't ornate, nor excessively refined, but it carried a weight that had nothing to do with metal.
War.
That was the first thing that came to mind. The second was blood.
A faint scent reached him. Rusted iron… mixed with something deeper, something soaked into the blade over time. His fingers twitched slightly.
Almost unconsciously, his hand moved toward the hilt, before the sound of footsteps and low murmurs approached his ears from outside.
Lars's eyes flicked toward the door instantly. Damn it, a sweep from the Mandated Punishers is coming here.
He didn't hesitate.
His hand withdrew, snapping the lid shut. The case was returned to its exact position, as perfect as it was before. By the time the door opened, Lars was already standing moving towards the exit, with a bottle in one hand and wrapped food in the other.
Looking like he had always been there.
Three Mandated Punishers stepped inside, their gazes sweeping the room before settling on Lars.
"What are you doing here?"
Lars met their eyes evenly, relaxed, holding the bottle in one hand and the wrapped food in the other.
"Handling Mr. Rouge's luggage," he replied without pause. "His butler was occupied. Asked me to bring the excess here."
A faint smirk tugged at one of the Punishers' lips.
"Is that so?"
He took a step closer, looking Lars up and down with open disdain.
"Funny. A Reaper… reduced to running errands like a steward."
Another snorted quietly.
"Personal hitman turned baggage handler. That's a new one."
A third stepped forward, voice colder, more direct.
"And you expect us to believe you're just… helping?"
Lars gave a small shrug, lifting the bundle of food slightly as if the answer was obvious.
"Work's work," he said calmly. "Pays well enough. I don't ask questions."
The mockery lingered in their expressions, but Lars didn't rise to it. His tone stayed flat and unbothered, just another hired hand doing a job.
The three exchanged a glance before one of them clicked his tongue.
"Listen carefully."
His tone shifted. His gaze hardened as he looked Lars up and down, taking in the bottle, the food, the stance.
"You're lucky," he continued, voice carrying a faint edge of mockery, "to be under someone with status. A Reaper like you… reduced to running errands. Acting as a steward." A small, humorless smirk followed. "Call it bodyguard if that helps you sleep."
Another stepped in slightly, eyes narrowing. "So which is it?" he pressed. "Bodyguard… or servant?"
Lars didn't react. He only lifted the bundle in his hand slightly, as if the answer had already been given. "Whatever he needs," he replied evenly. "Keeps things simple."
Silence lingered.
They looked past him, scanning the room, the luggage, weighing in his words. Then the first man stepped closer, just enough for the pressure to settle in.
"No crimes," he said, voice low and firm. "Not a single one. Not aboard this ship."
A brief pause.
"You're already lucky," another added, "Anyone else, and you'd be in chains the moment you stepped wrong."
"And remember who's aboard."
They didn't say the name, they didn't need to.
The weight of it pressed down all the same.
The Spellsinger of God… Ace Snake.
The Punisher straightened, giving Lars one last look. "Behave yourself."
Then they turned and left.
Only once their footsteps faded did Lars let out a quiet breath.
He stepped out into the corridor a moment later, with no change in his expression, at least not on the surface. Then, just slightly, it shifted. A faint irritation crept in. He took a measured drink from the bottle, letting the burn settle before muttering under his breath,
"…It would be nice to stand on my own two feet for once."
His grip tightened briefly around the neck of the bourbon.
"…instead of being stepped on by people like that."
He kept walking, steady, unhurried, but his thoughts had already drifted back.
That sword. The moment lingered. That pull. That pressure.Yeah… no way that was normal.
He exhaled lightly through his nose.
It must be from the Hunter pathway, without a doubt.It fits too cleanly with war and blood.
He tilted the bottle slightly, watching the liquid shift inside.
And not some low-tier junk either… His lips pressed faintly. That thing felt like it could chew through people just by existing.
He moved along, his steps creaking the wood underneath.
A Demigod artifact.
Something like that didn't just sit inside a suitcase like spare clothes. Which brought him right back to the real issue.
Alain Rouge.
Lars's steps slowed just a fraction before picking back up.
Who the hell are you, really… Owning something like that was one thing. Moving it around like it didn't matter, on a Mandated Punisher ship, no less… That was something else entirely. And how he got it…
Lars let out a quiet breath, taking another small drink.
Yeah… not sure I even want to know that part yet. For now…
He kept walking.
…
The door opened, and Charlie finally returned, with that same steady, unremarkable composure. At the sight of him, Jack, still seated beside the table, draped in that golden mantle, allowed himself a small smile. With a lazy sway of his hand, the historical projection of the Sword of Courage was dispelled, alongside Roselle's historical projection as well.
The bait is planted.
He didn't linger on it. Instead, Jack lifted his hand again, pricking his fingers as he reached into the void. After a handful of tries, Roselle Gustav's projection emerged once more, a crimson coat settling as if stirred by a wind from another era. Jack immediately suppressed the projection, turning it into a marionette. The projection moved without question, returning to assist the ravens. Jack leaned back slightly, his gaze sweeping across the table, over the worm, the fungal drape, the scattered items, and then to the empty space beside it. There was one chair missing.
Alchemy, huh… Jack let out a faint breath through his nose, a hint of amusement slipping through. Works almost like the stuff from that Fullmetal anime… The thought lingered briefly before his attention returned to the table. That missing chair had been the starting point, broken down, transmuted into different materials, then layered with knowledge imbued with power until it became something else entirely. Several results now rested before him.
He reached out and picked up a dark bracelet, a single silver line wrapped around its design. Turning it slowly between his fingers, he gave a quiet hum. Not bad. A prototype. A success, technically. It allowed the user to borrow strength from their past self in history. Useful… but fragile. He clicked his tongue softly. This one only gives one single use of it, before breaking down. At least it can serve as a groundwork for a better version, crafted from one of my worms of spirit… If so, the number of usages would increase and allow for high-sequence usage.
"Jack."
The call broke his immersion cleanly.
Jack turned his gaze toward the ravens, the faint trace of distraction in his eyes settling into focus. Moonan was already watching him, head slightly tilted.
"Our analysis is done," she said.
Jack raised a brow, the corner of his lips lifting just a fraction. "That was quicker than I imagined it would be."
Hugan let out a soft croak, perching forward slightly. "It sped up once Moonan returned," he replied. "Creatures like us… we are not meant to work in isolation."
Jack nodded once, accepting that without comment. His gaze sharpened slightly as he shifted the topic forward. "Very well," he said, tone turning more deliberate. "Then tell me, how do I merge the symbols properly? How do I modify the worm without destabilizing it again?"
The ravens didn't answer directly.
Instead, both of them plucked a feather from their own bodies, one black and one white, and tossed them forward. The feathers hovered midair, drifting slowly toward one another, before touching… and fusing into a single black-and-white feather.
Moonan gestured toward it lightly. "Everything we gathered is contained there," she explained. "All of the corresponding knowledge and information of our analysis is in that feather… provided the one receiving it can withstand it." A brief pause, her eyes settling on him. "At your level, it shouldn't be a problem."
Jack didn't hesitate.
He reached out and took the feather with his right hand, immediately activating his spirit vision. The moment his gaze touched it, the feather dissolved, unraveling into a stream of information that surged into his mind. Symbols unfolded, the information aligning in rapid succession. His eyes glowed faintly with a purple hue beneath his lenses.
A small smile of satisfaction appeared on Jack's face. His understanding over symbols deepened, and more importantly, so did his understanding of the abilities of a Knowledge Emperor and how they functioned beneath the surface.
Jack exhaled quietly.
He turned back toward the table, confidence returning to his posture.
"Let's try this one more time."
Roselle moved at once, lifting both the Beyonder characteristic and the Worm of Spirit into the air. They hovered opposite each other, suspended in a controlled stillness. Then the room filled with symbols. Trickery. Deceit. Bizarreness… They emerged one after another, surrounding the marionette's outstretched hand. This time, Jack didn't force them together. He guided them. The symbols began to move as they flowed, aligning, weaving into a single current. A river of information, smooth and continuous. As seconds passed, the symbols stopped clashing. They behaved, moving in sync. The current then spiraled downward, pulling both the worm and the characteristic into its center.
At the bottom of that flow, the two began to orbit each other, spinning faster as the symbols poured into them. The distinction between them started to blur, as they overlapped and merged with each other. The symbols embedded into the worm first, layering seamlessly over its existing structure, until both sets appeared indistinguishable. Then, without resistance, the worm slipped into the Beyonder characteristic.
For a moment, the room went still.
Then the characteristic shone.
The light didn't flare wildly, it condensed, heavy and controlled, as something began to take shape from within it. A figure grew, stretching outward until it stood at the size of a man. His features resembled highly that of Jack's. This figure then retrieved from within his suit a pair of purple spectacles, the same one held in Jack's face, wearing it upon the bridges of his nose.
It was an avatar. Jack had succeeded! In finishing the process of modifying his own worm of spirit into a worm of time, Jack also leveraged the abilities of a Mentor of Deceit though Roselle's authority over knowledge, imbuing it with power, allowing him to create an avatar out of the worm and beyonder characteristic combined.
The avatar's gaze swept across the room once, calm and measured. Then, with quiet formality, it bowed.
"Good evening," it said, voice steady, directed toward Jack and the ravens.
For a brief moment, both Hugan and Moonan showed a flicker of surprise. Then it passed. They had already analyzed the characteristic and the symbols. They understood what stood before them.
"What is the next step now?" Hugan asked, head tilting slightly.
Jack turned toward them, a clear note of satisfaction in his expression.
"Oh, for now?" he said lightly. "We're done here. The rest, I can handle on my own." He allowed a small pause, then, more sincerely, "You've been… very helpful. You're free to go."
The ravens exchanged a glance.
Moonan gave a small nod. "It was a pleasure working with you," she said. "Call upon us again if you find something… worth learning."
Jack's smile deepened just a fraction. "I intend to."
Without another word, both ravens took flight. Their forms blurred, slipping seamlessly into the Spirit World as they vanished from the room, leaving behind only a faint disturbance in the air.
Silence settled, then Jack turned.
Roselle stood quietly by the table. His avatar remained beside him, posture composed. The avatar inclined its head slightly.
"Well executed," it said. "The process was stable and the result is great."
Jack waved it off lightly. "It worked," he replied. "That's enough." His tone carried no arrogance, only quiet certainty. "It is all a matter of preparation and caution. Nothing more."
"Now," he added, eyes sharpening slightly, "we move to the next experiment."
He extended his hand toward the void once more, prickling his fingers. After a handful of tries without success, he paused, then rotated his wrist slightly. Then he pulled again.
The air warped, and a figure emerged.
An old man, clad in a black robe with a hood drawn low. His eyes were as dark as lightless water, deep and unreadable. A long, dense white beard framed his face.
The former Attendant of Mysteries, Zaratul!
The projection hovered, its gaze vague, empty, devoid of urgency and will.
Jack didn't hesitate. He turned slightly, gesturing toward it. "Go on."
His avatar moved at once.
From him, a small transparent worm emerged. Segmented, divided into twelve distinct sections. It drifted forward, slipping into the projection.
The change was immediate.
The old man's form began to distort, the robe shifting, the features reshaping until, piece by piece, the projection took on Jack's appearance.
Another avatar stood in the cabin. It reached into its suit, retrieving the same pair of dark-purple spectacles, placing them upon its nose with a familiar motion. Both Jack and his avatar watched in satisfaction of the result.
"Good," Jack said softly. He brought his hands together in a single, sharp clap, dispelling the projection-avatar in one fell swoop.
Afterwards, Jack lowered his hands, adjusting the knot of his tie with calm precision. As he did, he used his authority over history, borrowing the strength of his past, more specifically, from his newfound avatar formed from Zaratul's projection.
Jack exhaled lightly with a smile, posture straightening just a fraction.
"…Now we're getting somewhere."
Once more, another of his experiments bore fruit.
Jack stood there for a moment, letting the sensation settle,the connection. It was clear now. He and his avatars also had a shared history. The realization came together cleanly. Not only could his avatars borrow his strength from the Historical Void, he could draw from them as well. Their state, their condition, everything.
Which meant, Right now…Jack let out a quiet breath, the corner of his lips lifting slightly.
I'm an Attendant of Mysteries.
Of course, the thought didn't carry delusion with it. He understood the limits immediately. As a Miracle Invoker, the projection of Zaratul he had drawn wasn't at full strength. Naturally, what he borrowed from it wasn't either. It was a diminished state, a shadow of the true Sequence 1. Still… even a shadow of that level was more than enough.
Unless I actually reach Sequence 1… His gaze lowered slightly. Then the projections would come out at their real strength.
That thought lingered for a brief moment. He gave a quiet scoff under his breath.
Yeah. Sure. Just need to gather enough wishes for that. The idea wasn't impossible. Just… distant.
He shifted his attention inward again, testing the current state he held. The abilities came naturally. "Grafting", "Realm of Mysteries", "Regenerate".... But when he reached further, toward the accumulated wishes, there was nothing. Or rather, not nothing. A faint thread remained.
A lingering connection.
Jack narrowed his eyes slightly. So it's there… just not accessible.
The conclusion formed quickly.
Perhaps a Trojan Horse of Destiny is needed…That would be the key. Something that allowed him to exploit a loophole and claim what wasn't originally his. He held the thought for a second longer, then dismissed it, leaving such issues for later. For now, this was already more than enough.
A quiet cough sounded behind him.
"If you're done admiring yourself," his avatar said dryly, "when are you planning on making use of it? Or will you keep collecting projections like decorations?"
Jack glanced over his shoulder, one brow lifting slightly. "No need," he replied. "If I want more, I'll handle it myself." He paused, then added more directly, "What I need from you right now… is action."
The avatar tilted its head slightly. "Action?"
"Belltaine."
A faint moment of surprise appeared in the avatar's face, followed by a faint raised brow "…You're sending me there?" the avatar asked. "To babysit the other Mentor of Deceit?"
Jack smiled. "Yes." The answer came without hesitation.
"Now that I've confirmed the connection," he continued, calmly, "You don't need to be physically present. I can borrow what I need from you. That leaves me free to continue things here… while you handle matters there."
The avatar studied him for a second, understanding the situation quickly. "You want me to watch him".
"And more than that," Jack replied. "I want you to observe and learn Impheil's habits… his acting, his pacing, his restraint. Being a Mentor of Deceit shouldn't be just about ability, but also execution."
"Additionally, help him if needed, on his advancement ritual."
The avatar gave a slow nod. "…Understood." But before he could continue, Jack interrupted him. Concurrently, he was also stretching his hand toward the void once more, fingers pricking as he prepared another projection.
"I'm not sending you directly to Belltaine," he added casually.
The avatar frowned slightly. "What are you talking about?"
"You will be arriving at a coastal city first."
The motion of Jack's hand slowed, as he prickled on the projection. "You'll make your way from there."
The avatar stared at him for a moment. "…You're making me walk? Why the hell are you doing that when you can just teleport me."
Jack didn't stop. "Of course I can." Jack's voice remained calm, almost absentminded, as if the answer itself carried no weight. "But I won't."
That got the avatar's full attention.
Jack continued, fingers still pricked against the void. "You're not going straight to Belltaine," he said. "The trip you are going to take matters."
"It gives you time."
The avatar's gaze sharpened slightly behind the dark-purple lenses.
"To get used to the Error Pathway," Jack went on, tone even. "Simply using the information provided by the characteristic isn't enough and you know that. Have practice and experiment as you go."
He let that settle before adding, almost casually, "Accumulate wishes while you move as well," Jack continued. "I'll allow you three projections at max," Jack added, finally turning fully toward him. "One at Angel level. The other two… is up to you." His gaze sharpened slightly. "And you are not to teleport directly to Belltaine. That's not a suggestion."
The avatar stared at him for a moment longer, an unreadable expression beneath the tinted lenses. "…Fine."
There was reluctance in it, but also acceptance.
Jack gave a small nod, satisfied.
"Good," he said. Then, almost as an afterthought, "You have an advantage, by the way."
The avatar paused.
Jack's lips curved faintly. "With the worm inside you now modified as a Worm of Time… deception comes easier." His gaze flicked toward him. "You can deceive the rules, allowing you to directly use abilities from myself, enabling you to borrow from the past in a much quicker fashion, hence, reducing any risks or mishaps."
Afterwards, his hand finally pulled inward. The void rippled, and a black cane embedded with shimmering gems emerged into his grasp. Jack caught it cleanly, then brought it down with a firm thud against the floor.
The gems along its length lit up faintly, pulsing with layered, starlike light. The space around the avatar distorted.
Jack exhaled lightly.
"Have fun," he said, almost idly. In the next instant, the avatar was gone.
The room fell quiet again. Jack then turned towards the table. Roselle stood nearby, already prepared.
Jack didn't waste time.
From his body, slick, transparent tendrils extended outward, like threads reaching into something deeper. He stretched them toward the void, pulling again and again, layering summons over each other.
At the same time, Charlie also moved. The Chaoswalker marionette mirrored Jack, reaching into the void as well, leveraging its own accumulated luck, increasing the chances of pulling more… interesting results.
The air in the cabin grew heavier. Multiple figures began to appear one after another.
Xio Derecha, Derrick Berg, Sharron, and even another emperor filled the cabin.
Jack didn't acknowledge them immediately. Instead, his gaze shifted, focused, on the Staff of Stars projection in his hand.
Then, he quickly switched holding the staff from his right hand to his left, moving his right hand into his suit, into his Traveler's Bag. From within it, a dark cloak emerged, one that seemed to swallow light rather than reflect it.
Jack's eyes narrowed slightly behind the purple lenses. "…It never hurts to have more options..."