took two years.
Two years for the Wizard of Mysteries potion to be fully digested.
From others' perspectives, it was a very short time, but in Merlin's eyes, it was far too slow. Compared to the three years it took him in the past to ascend from Sequence 9 to Sequence 0, being stuck in Sequence 1 for two years was quite frustrating for him.
But Merlin felt a certain joy at the peace he now had; the fact that he could take so long to ascend reminded him that he was no longer in an intense race against time.
Perhaps it was thanks to that gratifying tranquility that even when he was preparing for his ascent to sequence 0, Merlin did not feel nervous or stressed.
~Although my soul is not yet fully repaired, I possess enough humanity; it should be enough to balance the first wave of divinity.
The Angel had grown accustomed to possessing a great deal of humanity. When he landed in this era, his humanity was scarce, but then he met Morgana, the icy Angel, who, in those moments, helped him regain his desire to protect. Merlin would never deny having enjoyed her sharp but sarcastic retorts, or those moments when they became teacher and student; the long lessons on mysticism reminded him of his own apprenticeship with Old Niel. The only difference was that Merlin had refrained from teaching the young Angel bad habits (or so he thought).
When she left to complete her order, he thought that only days of solitude awaited him beneath the Cathedral of Utopia, just as it had been during his first time performing the ritual.
Who would have thought that two overly curious kids would dare to break the rules and descend into his body's resting place?
The frequent visits from Athanasia and Lucas helped his fading humanity regain its strength. Having two children with contrasting yet similar personalities nearby entertained the Angel, and when their curiosity didn't end with the discovery of their God but expanded their investigation to encompass all of Utopia, he had to dedicate extra time to caring for them. He couldn't recall the number of puppets he had assigned just to protect them from themselves. Anyone would say they were a nuisance—and they were—but Merlin preferred them that way. Although they constantly interrupted his ascension ritual, the thought of dismissing them had never crossed his mind.
~...it's a shame that so many years of humanity are about to disappear in a second--I sighed internally.
He couldn't help but feel a certain resistance when he thought about having to abandon the humanity he had worked so hard to regain. However, it was necessary. Although as an Angel King bearing a Sephiroth he could manifest power on par with a true Deity, only by reaching Sequence 0 could he ensure an overwhelming force that would prevent any Deity from even thinking of touching those under his mantle.
It was the only method that would ensure the safety of Utopia even in the face of the future catastrophes that lie ahead.
"Morgana needs my help too," he murmured.
His head turned and his brown eyes focused on the distance, trying to observe a place hundreds of kilometers away.
He knew she would never mind his lateness, but he still regretted not having her back by his side. However, with his current power, it was impossible to open a passage through the mist. At that moment, he had only managed to create a small fissure because the barrier was still unstable. Now that it had stabilized, it would be millennia before it weakened again. The only way to create a path was if he ascended to divinity. At that point, even if he couldn't raise the barrier completely, he could easily create a small breach through which to pass.
He was determined; if he wanted to protect all those who believed in Him, he had to ascend.
~Of all of them, that was always my destiny--he took a coin from the historical void and threw it to perform a small divination~~But I will decide how to fulfill it.
The question in the Divination was simple: Are there any living beings left on this island?
As it fell, the coin revealed a positive answer.
The island she had chosen was supposedly deserted; performing the divination had been merely a precaution—she didn't want to break the habit—but she hadn't expected a positive result.
With a frown, he teleported to the locations his spirituality indicated. In different nests, Merlin found two small chicks.
~Judging by their appearance, are they owls?--the discovery was a real surprise--Are there still animals like that alive?
On his travels, Merlin had visited dozens of places, but biodiversity was equally scarce in all of them. The apocalypse had acted as a mass extinction: few species had managed to survive the constant climatic and geographical changes, and above all, the new predators. In the future, he had never seen an owl; most of the birds were pigeons, crows, or other species that, due to their former abundance, had managed to survive.
"They're just two chicks... a male and a female," the two chicks in her hands were barely breathing. "They're in bad shape, malnourished, and possibly sick."
A quick dream divination confirmed that the parents of both chicks had died, victims of a crazed creature when they set out in search of food. Merlin surmised that both birds had been without sustenance for almost twenty-four hours.
He wasn't a veterinarian, and he had a ritual to perform, but he couldn't let them die. With a gentle gesture, he stole the disease from them. The little ones, who had barely reacted, moved for the first time in his hands, huddling together for warmth.
By making another adjustment, he verified that both would be fine even if he left them unsupervised for a few more hours inside Sefirah Castle.
—I'll find them a caretaker later—both chicks disappeared from his hands—. Now, the important thing.
With a slight gesture of his hands, he removed the two remaining features of Sequence 1 from their path. As he released them, they floated in the air, colliding lightly, and under his influence, began to merge into a black, viscous liquid.
For the potion, he needed those two characteristics of Assistant of Mysteries and the singularity of The Fool—already assimilated—as the main ingredients. The secondary ingredient was more of a requirement; he needed to control at least a quarter of the fog of history, but since Merlin was the only high-sequence Divination at present, his dominion over it was practically absolute.
—At least the ritual will be easy... I'll never get over the disaster that was my first promotion to Sequence 0 before time travel—just remembering it gave the Seer a headache.
That ritual could be considered a divine war. Gods intervening, some supporting it, others trying to stop it. Even the Outer Gods would have participated were it not for Amun's preparation with the Tablet of Blasphemy, which prevented them from influencing the world for a certain period of time.
Merlin would never forget how Amanises supported him from the very beginning. The Goddess went to such lengths to protect him during his ritual that, had she failed, she likely would have dug him up to demand a refund of her investment. Other gods, such as Lilith, the Blood Ancestor, and the God of Steam and Machinery, also aided him, though to a lesser extent.
It was recalled that in the future, she would support Amanises as she had supported him. She would help the other two, but not as much as her fellow transmigrant. As for her enemies, she would seek revenge if the opportunity arose. She would love to be rid of Amon, but that would cause unnecessary trouble with the Old Sun God. Furthermore, now that he possessed two Sequence 1 characteristics of the Marauder's Path, and Morgana held the last one along with her singularity, Amon, at best, would be born a Sequence 2 Angel, far from his original power.
Merlin smiled sinisterly.
"I can't touch Amon, but I'm sure I'll interact with his dear father. Couldn't I just annoy him as revenge?" The idea made him laugh. "As long as it doesn't happen to me, everything will be fine. I'll get him back for everything he put me through with his little game in the Abandoned Land of the Gods."
She only returned to reality when she felt the characteristics of Sequence 1 finish merging. The black, amorphous liquid touched her hand, spreading over it like a voracious layer.
His thoughts returned to the ritual. It consisted of three requirements: he had to deceive time, history, and destiny.
Despite the apparent complexity of the ritual, Merlin smiled with sarcastic satisfaction.
In the strictest sense, he was a being from the future who had achieved the unimaginable feat of traveling to the past. His presence in the wrong time could only be sustained because Time itself had been tricked.
The historical fog of the planet barely reached the beginning of the Second Epoch, the present day, but that which was connected to Merlin contained the history not only of the Second but also of the Third, Fourth, and Fifth Epochs. Both collided due to contradictions and predictions; these clashes created a new historical space that would encompass the new history created in contemplation of it. History, therefore, had been deceived.
His destiny, he knew, had always been to become the Lord of Mysteries. From the moment he was hung in one of the hoods inside Sefirah Castle until he chose the Seer's potion when he first joined the Night Hawks, every piece necessary for his advancement was there. The end of the road would always be the same, no matter which detour he took. But this was a destiny that had to be fulfilled in the Fifth Era, not the Second. To fulfill it prematurely was to deceive it, and destiny was easily deceived.
Deception, deception, and more deception.
Everything was a deception. His very existence embodied this authority; he was a mistake wherever he went, and so he would be for the rest of his long life.
~Finally, time travel has such a direct benefit.
The tar-like substance seeped through his skin without him needing to drink it. The reaction was immediate: his body decomposed into thousands of maggots, retaining only a few human parts. From his core, a wave of power expanded in all directions, affecting every living thing. Every being temporarily lost much of its intelligence: forgetting actions, motives, and thoughts, all due to the authority of Deception contained within that wave of energy.
The smiling clown mask appeared a few centimeters above his face, the worms that formed it reaching out to grasp and pull it down. When the mask made direct contact, it seemed to merge with the protruding worms, fusing with Merlin's face to the point that the overlap was imperceptible. Through it, only his eyes were visible; they had lost their brown color and become completely golden, bearing an unusual glow.
A cloak, black on the outside and gold on the inside, appeared and fell over his body, completely covering his back and most of his face. This cloak billowed continuously and faded away without ever touching the ground.
His body, still mostly composed of worms, began to tremble as the few human parts he retained dissolved into more spirit worms. With his human form completely abandoned, Merlin felt himself splitting into thousands of entities, all shrouded in a thick mist. As the worms began to disperse, the mist spread with them, eventually covering much of the island. As they moved away, the spirit worms began to secrete a sticky black liquid that slowed many of them down.
The worms, who had been moving aimlessly, having lost the guidance of the main mind, began to tremble as a powerful authority filled them. Deceptions of time, history, and destiny combined to give birth to a new authority: the authority of Deception, whose primary effect was to transform falsehood into reality, and the authority over Manipulation/Grafting, born from the interactions between the symbols of Change and Strangeness, which now held complete sway.
The worms writhed, unable to individually bear the burden of both authorities. With no other option, they all merged at a single point, forming a strange being.
The gray mist and dark liquid merged, intertwining to form a dark, translucent cloak. The edges of the cloak transformed into slick, transparent tentacles that reached into the unknown, manipulating Time, Fate, and Secrecy. Beneath the cloak, there was no body; only a strange, cold, illusory mask with expressionless features and a vortex of tentacles formed by the twisted aggregation of countless Spirit Worms.
He had become a manifestation of the very nature of Sequence 0: The Fool. The being who deceived the world and himself.
The whole process lasted only a few minutes. And it only ended when the Angel—no, the God—fully regained control, returning to his human form.
He checked his condition: he no longer had the appearance of Merlin; his face was now that of Zhou Mingrui, though his eyes retained that bright gold, and illusory tentacles seemed to escape uncontrollably from beneath the curtain. The now expressionless mask vanished from his face, but it remained hidden beneath a dense mist, symbolizing his profound connection to Sefirah Castle and his authority over Mystery and Secrecy.
The curtain billowed without wind. He recognized it as the manifestation not only of his status and authority, but also of the accumulated characteristics of the paths of the Diviner, Marauder, and Apprentice that he had wrested from Tianzu.
"Even if I absorb them, the Curtain will remain. It's a unique garment of the Lord of Mysteries. Does the Almighty God have something like this?"—his curiosity was genuine—"Could it be that priest's robe Adam wore since the third age?"
As his mind raced, his body began to rise into the air.
He was now, in truth, The Fool, God of the Diviner's Path, bearer of the authority of Deception and Grafting. Moreover, by virtue of his position as lord of Sefirah Castle, he was also the Demi-Lord of Mysteries and ruler of the Spirit World.
Upon entering the Spiritual World, its inhabitants had two reactions to sensing his presence: a tiny number abandoned the place, fleeing in terror, while the vast majority prostrated themselves before him, welcoming him and showing their respect.
Among all those entities, seven lights of different colors stood out the most, attracting the attention of "Their Lord" with their radiance. Upon noticing His gaze, they did not hesitate to approach Him.
The Fool, despite his current form, different from those he would wear in the future, recognized them as the Seven Lights of the Spiritual World, the beings who watched over and guarded that world, and who in the future would support humanity by bringing back the lost knowledge of past eras.
The seven lights flew swiftly toward him and, one by one, appeared before him in the form of seven gold coins with stars carved on both sides. The Fool recognized them and named each one according to its color:
Red Light, Aiur Moria, representative of authority and will, whose domain is all Creatures.
Orange Light, Hilarion, representative of knowledge and science, whose domain is Alchemy.
Yellow Light, Venithan, representative of reason and adaptation, whose domain is Astronomy.
Green Light, Serapis, representative of beauty and harmony, whose domain is Letters.
Blue Light, Kuthumi, representative of love and wisdom, whose domain is Reflection.
Indigo Light, Jesus, representative of ideals and dedication, whose domain is Prayer.
Violet Light, Saint Germain, representative of assistance and overcoming, whose domain is Ritual Magic.
Each one, upon being named, emitted a bright flash in recognition, floating in a row in front of Him awaiting orders.
The Fool knew that these seven lights were not the same ones that had watched over the spirit world centuries before. The original Seven Lights had perished during the war between the two Pillars, and those before him could be considered their successors.
Just as they would in the future, they bowed before Him like seasoned servants upon meeting their Lord again. The lack of a human body had not hindered their presentation.
"All that's missing is for Arrodes to join... I'll be on the lookout when he's born," he said to himself, missing the mirror that, in a way, had earned its own place by becoming his filial cheerleader during his fight against the Worthy Celestial. "Apart from all the help it provided, of course."Returning to the present, The Fool looked at the Seven Lights before issuing an order:
"I'll be waiting for you. Come see me when your forms have fully developed." His words echoed, and the lights flickered in understanding.
With nothing left to do in the Spirit World, the Fool left, appearing right in front of a huge wall of fog very familiar to him. The few beings that wandered near the divide, sensing his arrival, fled in terror, plunging the surroundings into a profound silence.
"Open up," he ordered.
Behind Him, the space undulated, revealing the image of a glorious castle shrouded in mist.
Although nothing that was happening was visible to the naked eye, sensitive eyes could notice the spatial shocks when both ripples—those created by the manifestation of the Castle and those created by the fog—collided with each other.
A few seconds later, a fissure appeared in the fog like a path waiting to be traversed. The Madman did not hesitate and went in.
Unlike Morgana, who wandered for days inside the barrier, he went straight to the other side, finally reaching the land he had longed for but which, before the journey to the past, he had been unable to visit because of the Worthy Celestial.
Now, while Tianzu's influence was weakened by their battle and his own actions, he could roam freely. But the Madman knew this freedom was only temporary; even so, he already had a plan to deal with Tianzu in the future. He wouldn't let him gain the upper hand like before.
"It's been a while... China, my home," she whispered, observing the remnants of a distant past.
Human emotions and feelings resurfacing from within the overwhelming divinity. Unbeknownst to him, a tear escaped from the Fool's right eye, warming his cheek and falling to his native soil.
Not even his growing Divinity could block his humanity, the one that rejoiced at being able to return home after a long journey.
The god raised his hand, touching his right cheek with it; the sensation of moisture made him smile.
~Even gods can cry.
His thoughts were interrupted as he sensed a presence approaching at great speed.
The Fool turned, his golden eyes catching sight of the white-haired woman floating a few feet away. She clutched her garment tightly to her chest, her once bright eyes now too dark for his liking.
Without hesitation, he teleported in front of her, forcing her to raise her head in surprise to see his face hidden under the fog.
—Morgana—she dispersed the fog, allowing him to see her face, and smiled at her—My dear daughter, I am sorry for the delay.
He noticed how the Angel's body tensed, her eyes widening dramatically, regaining some of their natural sparkle. The Fool found this reaction endearing, and at the same time reassuring, confirming that Morgana still possessed some humanity.
King Angel showed too much confusion through his eyes, still doubting what his ears had heard.
Seeing that Morgana's condition didn't seem to be improving, the Fool decided to be more drastic. His hands rose, enveloping her in a tight embrace that immobilized her.
"I'm sorry for leaving you alone for so long," he repeated, feeling the body in his arms tense up and then slowly relax.
—Almost two decades isn't much for us —he replied in a low but firm voice.
"They are," he admitted, and pulled her back slightly so their eyes met. "Look how much you've changed. Your divinity is so overwhelming that your humanity barely survives. Whose fault is that, if not mine?"
He knew that his ascension to Angel King had stripped him of much of his humanity. His ascension had done the same. But the mission he entrusted to her was another push that would cause the already damaged plant to wither almost to death. And yet, knowing all the consequences, he continued with his plan and sent her, because she was his closest being, his greatest confidante, and ironically, that trust had damaged her.
Morgana raised an eyebrow, staring at him intently before replying:
—I came of my own free will, knowing the consequences—he reminded her—If you hadn't asked me, I might have been saddened, because it would mean that you didn't trust me.
"Even with the harm I caused you?" Morgana nodded immediately.
"I will follow the Lord wherever He leads. You should know this by now: I am His most trusted Angel King, the one closest to His throne." Finally, he smiled gently. If the Fool knew it was his first genuine smile in years, this conversation would never end. "It won't be easy for you to get rid of me now."
—Haha, why would I get rid of my beloved daughter?—She tensed up again.
—Sir, that title...
"Sir? Can't it be 'Dad'?" he asked, amused, seeing her incredulous expression and her cheeks flush. "Please, keep going, reviving our lost humanity," he pleaded as the gleam in his amethyst eyes intensified.
Morgana remained silent, averting her gaze; she didn't know what to say or how to react to this situation. But the Fool didn't think so; this was a much-needed conversation so that both of their humanity could be restored.
"Come on, you just have to call me 'Dad.' Didn't you call me by my name once?" His smile turned playful.
"That was different! Saying his name isn't as personal as calling him 'Dad'!" she screamed in her mind, finally breaking down the facade of a playful and calculating angel that she maintained even within her own soul.
In front of the Fool, the Marauders' Angel King transformed into a little girl who could not bear the shame.
—The longer you take, the longer we'll be here——he said with some amusement. ~I hope you don't try to return the embarrassment of today in the future.
Morgana's lips trembled; her cheeks burned. Her eyes, once cold, now overflowed with shame and resignation, like a child forced to do something ridiculous in front of a crowd.
"It's just the two of us," the God reminded her, placing one hand on her head in a familiar gesture, while with the other he maintained the embrace.
—... Dad... Father...
The god shook his head, and Morgana could only look away, even more ashamed and defeated.
-Dad...
The word resonated in the God's heart. His eyes softened, turning slightly brown again. His playful smile transformed into a reassuring expression as he stroked the girl's head, finally confirming their connection as father and daughter.
—Yes... Dad is here now —she whispered softly, feeling the Angel King's body tremble again.
Standing before his self-proclaimed father, King Angel of the Marauders lowered his head and shed tears, not knowing exactly what feeling caused them, but he did know that it was related to the familiar caresses he left on his hair.
Together, father and daughter felt the dying plant of their humanity regaining vitality, growing and blooming, despite the poison of divinity that surrounded them.
Notes: