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Inside a secluded warehouse in the port of Seville, Feynapotter.
Bits of brilliant starlight emerged from the boundary, hovering and merging in mid-air, and in just a moment, they reformed into a human shape.
The human shape formed by starlight walked a few steps on the ground, and amidst the flickering light, the figure of the Prophet Clone reappeared.
"The simulated ability is indeed not natural enough."
He muttered to himself and walked towards a corner where the ritual materials he had left over from sacrificing food to the Gray Fog were still present.
Taking a deep breath, he began to set up the ritual to receive the bestowal. After preparing the candles, herbal powder, spiritually rich materials, and the symbolic representation of The Fool, he stepped back and simultaneously gently poked his finger to create a few flames, lighting the candles.
He summoned an invisible hand to throw essential oils and herbal powder into the candlelight. The candlelight shot up violently and was dyed a quietgreen, and the faint scent of herbs instantly filled the surroundings.
"The Fool who does not belong to this era, the Mysterious Ruler above the Gray Fog, the King of Yellow and Black Who Holds Good Luck."
"Your loyal servant requests your gaze;"
"I request you to open the door to your kingdom;"
Klein's response was quick; in less than three minutes, the gray-white stone statue that Leyton had transformed into appeared before the Prophet Clone.
He gazed intently at the gray-white stone statue before him, a faint blue misting over his eyes. From every angle, this was an ordinary stone, no more, no less. Directly changing the structure of matter from its fundamental level, while unscientific, was profoundly mystical.
With a slight sigh, he directly adjusted the existing ritual on the ground, changing it to a ritual directed at the Hidden Sage, and then chanted aloud:
"The Sage who discerns the world, the eye that probes truth, the embodiment of endless knowledge and numerology."
As the incantation was chanted, a layer of gloom suddenly enveloped the warehouse. Both sound and air movement became static at this moment.
"Concealment?"
The Prophet Clone frowned slightly; his intuition gave him a premonition that the Hidden Sage seemed to have been waiting for this moment.
His spiritual perception was suddenly touched; something extremely dangerous, extremely terrifying, and not to be looked at directly had descended.
The strong sense of danger made him instinctively close his eyes, sealing off all his perceptions of the outside world with his spirituality.
As he moved, illusory light suddenly surged from within the warehouse. This light seemed to be composed of complex and pure information, rushing from an unknown place, directly enveloping Leyton, who had turned into a gray-white stone statue.
"Knowledge civilization truth"
"Essence origin brilliance truth keeper"
Leyton, whose consciousness had fallen into Darkness, suddenly regained some sensation. He heard rustling sounds that inexplicably irritated him.
These voices seemed to come from different people, different places, using different accents to pray to some existence. These voices mixed together, sounding somewhat chaotic. No matter how hard he tried to distinguish them, he could only hear fragmented snippets within a blur of words.
What's going on? Have I arrived in the underworld? Did I just die so carelessly?
As his thoughts spun, he felt his mind become more active, and even the voices echoing in his ears became clearer.
"The Essence of Knowledge, The Root of Mystery, The Radiance of Civilization."
Although the voices were still somewhat layered, at least the clearer parts could be distinguished.
These are prayers, prayers to the Knowledge Moor. Why are they appearing in my ears? Did I return directly to the Knowledge Moor after I died? But shouldn't it still be sealed in the Western Continent?
Following the connection of the prayers, he cast his "gaze" over and saw figures rising and falling on the sea surface. Were they Nagas? And some shadowy figures with dark yellow skin and clear Southern Continent blood, wearing black classical robes, dressed like Warlocks from the Fourth Epoch.
Among them, one figure was extremely devout, seemingly a loyal believer who had dedicated his body, mind, and soul to a great existence. His praying voice was also the most distinct. As Leyton cast his gaze, he clearly saw the other party's appearance and heard his voice:
He wore a black robe with strange symbols and patterns, a black pointed hat, and deep, spirited eyes. He was dressed like a Warlock from folk legends, and he seemed to be inside a ship's cabin.
Ethan, he's actually a devout believer of the Knowledge Moor. Is this the source of the familiarity I felt when I first saw him?
As he actively listened and tried to establish a connection, more and more prayers echoed in his ears. An uncontrollable urge surged within him, wanting to forcibly stuff knowledge into these people's minds.
He felt his thoughts becoming cold, becoming mad, wanting to tear everything apart, to assimilate everything.
This constant assault on his sanity, like the feeling experienced when taking a potion to advance, was the most primitive and instinctive madness and desire contained within the potion and within himself.
As his sanity was constantly being eroded and suppressed, those rustling, irritating prayers became the best way to relieve the pressure.
These prayers were like anchors fixed in the deep sea, preventing his sanity from being submerged by primitive desires and instinctive madness.
Is this the meaning of anchors for angels and gods?
As time passed, he gradually found a balance point, like a ship trapped in a storm, swaying but not directly capsizing.
In the depths of his consciousness, submerged in Darkness, many eyes suddenly grew—cold, indifferent eyes without eyelashes, each eye seemingly containing a brilliant galaxy.
"Hidden Sage?"
The surrounding eyes stared at him unblinkingly, only the starlight in their pupils flowing and flickering. Just as he thought the other party would not answer him, a faint, emotionless voice echoed directly in his mind.
"Seek more humanity, create more anchors…"
"If your humanity cannot contend with the madness I have accumulated, divinity will completely replace you. Your remaining time is not much."
There was a feeling of talking to himself… A casual sigh floated through his mind, and Leyton was suddenly stunned. Some thoughts he didn't quite want to admit surged in his heart.
After a moment of hesitation, he turned to ask other questions:
"You descended then? But you left quickly and didn't take me with you, was that for now?"
The indifferent, cold eyes around him calmly gazed at Leyton, reflecting those brilliant galaxies into his eyes, and at the same time, directly transmitting His answer into Leyton's mind:
"Steam noticed that place. You, who have not recovered all of your self, cannot be noticed by Him yet."
"Let Ankewelt contend for the authority of the spiritual domain; this can delay the appearance of God Almighty. Recruit a qualified Psychiatrist."
"Increase the power around that Fool; the sooner the Lord of the Mysteries appears, the more beneficial it is for us."
"That Omniscient One might have other arrangements; I cannot be sure… He is very wise, a reliable collaborator, but not a completely trustworthy one."
After digesting the information the Hidden Sage transmitted to his mind, he looked up again. The eyes containing brilliant galaxies had disappeared, leaving only fragmented starlight constantly floating and deforming, like tiny pixel blocks stacking downwards.
In just a moment, the surroundings turned into a pixelated, blurry wilderness, very illusory, as if in an amorphous state. With enough imagination, one could outline what they saw into any shape. A realization gradually dawned on him:
Knowledge has no form; it is concealed between all things… Every piece of knowledge has its weight, so it always stacks from bottom to top—the Convergence of all knowledge, the God of Answers to the ever-changing universe.
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