Sol sat inside a small café, his gaze drifting across the street beyond the window. His eyes were unfocused, reflecting movement without truly registering it—pedestrians passing, shadows stretching and shrinking beneath the afternoon light.
'… third day here.'
The thought surfaced .
Three days since he arrived in this world.
Today was the 6th of July. By his estimation, it had been over a week since Klein's transmigration. The realization made him pause. The timing felt deliberate, as though his appearance had been carefully placed rather than accidental.
Sol leaned back slightly.
"Who would have brought me here?"
The question lingered.
And more importantly—"for what purpose?"
To disturb the flow of the story?
Or to ensure that it continued exactly as it was meant to?
He had no answer.
"Are there others like me?
The possibility felt uncomfortably plausible. If it had happened once, there was little reason to believe it could not happen again. Enough occurrences could form a pattern—enough to allow deductions.
Sol exhaled softly.
"Oh well," he murmured. "If there are others… then they've likely already preparing their move."
If not him, then someone else.
With a task in mind, Sol rose from his seat. He settled the bill and stepped out of the café, merging into the steady flow of the street.
Not long after, he found himself inside a clothing store. He did not linger. After a brief glance, he chose a set of plain, conventional attire—black trousers, a white shirt, and a black tie. Nothing that would stand out.
Ordinary.
Acceptable.
Once dressed, Sol studied his reflection briefly before turning away.
In addition to the clothes, Sol purchased a few other items.
A gold-inlaid pocket watch.
A silver dagger.
A leather bag.
A single gold coin.
And a monocle.
As he secured them away, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Heh… this should be interesting," Sol murmured quietly. "I'm sure of it."
After a brief pause, he decided it was time to act. Once the clock passed noon—just after twelve—Sol made his way toward Swordfish Bar, a place rumored to serve as a gathering spot for adventurers.
The establishment was lively but not chaotic. The air carried the scent of alcohol and salt, mingled with low voices and occasional laughter. Sol took a seat at the counter and ordered a drink, letting his gaze drift casually across the room.
When the bartender approached, Sol spoke without looking up.
"Say," he said in a low, unhurried tone, "if someone were interested in a *reliable means of self-defense*—something mechanical rather than mystical—where might they look?"
The bartender's hands did not pause. He wiped the counter once, then reached for another glass.
"One pound," he replied flatly.
No explanation followed. No confirmation was needed.
Sol lifted his glass slightly in acknowledgment.
A moment later, he stepped out of the bar, his expression faintly peculiar.
"Hm… not that I've had much alcohol ," he muttered to himself, "but I think the stuff I drank before was better."
With that thought, he adjusted his shirt and disappeared back into the street, the city continuing its steady rhythm around him.
In any case, Sol was now properly equipped.
Inside his bag rested a medium-ranged firearm of modest size, accompanied by sixty rounds of ammunition. The weight was reassuring—neither excessive nor cumbersome—just enough to remind him of its presence.
Upon returning to his rented room at the inn, Sol paused by the door, briefly considering where to store the weapon for ease of access. After a moment of thought, he chose a practical solution. He secured it inside a separate, small open-top pouch, fastening it discreetly around his thigh.
Only then did he relax.
Dropping his bag onto the bed, Sol turned his attention to the room itself. With practiced movements, he sealed the space, ensuring privacy and silence. The air subtly shifted as spirituality gathered, responding to his intent.
He arranged a simple altar.
Candles were placed.
Objects aligned.
The atmosphere grew solemn.
Sol exhaled and murmured softly,
"The Fool…"
His voice was steady.
—— Klein's POV ——
Klein was inside his room when he sensed the prayer.
It was faint at first, like a ripple across still water, but unmistakable. He immediately grew alert. Rising from his seat, he took four steps counterclockwise, his expression sharpening as he entered the gray fog.
Within the endless expanse, a new star flickered into existence.
It blinked.
Then stabilized.
Inside that star stood a man—quiet, composed—wearing a monocle over his right eye. He was praying with measured sincerity, his posture respectful, his emotions carefully restrained.
Cautious as always, he chose to observe first.
He raised his hand and allowed a pendulum to manifest, its movement slow and restrained as it traced faint arcs through the fog. Silent divination followed—brief, controlled.
The result was clear.
There was danger, but it was minimal.
Only after confirming this did Klein allow his attention to linger on the newly formed star, committing its presence to memory without hastily intervening.
—— Sol's POV ——
After several minutes of *devout* prayer, Sol slowly opened his eyes.
He stood up and dismantled the altar with practiced efficiency, leaving no traces behind.
'Mr. Fool should be observing me right now 'Sol thought quietly.
'In that case… I shouldn't act too strangely. Normal—but not entirely ordinary.'
He paused, tapping a finger lightly against the monocle's frame.
"Hm… attending a Beyonder gathering would be appropriate," he murmured. "That way, I'll appear useful. An asset."
With that decision made, Sol left the inn and made discreet inquiries throughout the day. After some effort, he finally learned of a gathering held at Amyris Leaf Bar bar—but unfortunately, it wasn't scheduled for today.
Tomorrow.
Since he was already out, he made a brief stop along the way, purchasing a pair of thin leather gloves and a plain metal face mask. They were functional, forgettable, and suitable for someone who preferred to remain unnoticed.
Back in his room, Sol set the items aside and sat down, exhaling slowly.
With nothing pressing to do for the moment, Sol lay back briefly on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
It didn't take long before restlessness crept in.
Rising to his feet, he decided to take a slow walk along the roadside. He moved casually through the streets, browsing small shops, sampling different kinds of food, and observing the rhythm of the city with quiet interest.
During his wandering, he came across something that caught his attention.
A book—displayed on a street-side stall.
"Stormwind Mountain Villa."
Sol purchased it , a little interested, planning to read it during his free time.
Alongside it, he also picked up a deck of tarot cards.
By the time he finished his stroll, the sky had begun to darken. Street lamps flickered to life one after another, casting elongated shadows across the stone-paved roads.
Sol returned to his room.
Sitting down, he dwelled in his thoughts.
"My current state is stable," he assessed inwardly. "Sequence 9 of the Hermit pathway is fully digested, while Sequence 8 is almost complete."
He paused, then added silently,
"As for the Savant pathway… Sequence 9 and Sequence 8 were granted as a boon from Sefirot."
There was no resistance. No backlash.
The realization eased his mind.
Slowly, Sol stood up.
Without delay, he sealed the room. Spirituality flowed outward as invisible barriers formed, isolating the space completely. The atmosphere shifted, growing solemn and still.
He sat in bed , eyes closed concentrating on blank nothingness
Moments later, his consciousness sank.
He entered the 'Knowledge Moor—Sefirot'.
This was his 'second visit'.
Compared to the first time, the pressure was noticeably more controlled—but no less dangerous. Sol could still feel the faint remnants of earlier knowledge tides lingering at the edge of his awareness.
He steadied himself.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
And stepped forward once more.
Sol decided to cautiously experiment a little with Sefirot.
The first thing he did was search for a figure that looked less daunting—something that didn't immediately radiate madness or overwhelming terror. After moving through the dim, distorted landscape for a while, he noticed a *relatively normal-looking corpse* lying at a distance.
Compared to the others, it was quiet.
Approaching it carefully, Sol raised his guard and constructed a *temporary spiritual enclosure*, isolating the surrounding area from external influences and distant ravings. The moment the enclosure formed, the chaotic whispers weakened significantly, becoming dull and distant, like sounds muffled by thick walls.
After confirming that the corpse didn't show any immediate reaction or abnormal fluctuation, he slowly *withdrew the spirituality gathered around his ears*, allowing himself to listen again.
The whispers returned—but only faintly.
They were fragmented, incomplete.
A few phrases surfaced intermittently, lacking coherence:
A *mind spell*....
The *three body sizes of the Evernight Goddess*…
Ignition…
*hidden sage*…
Maintaining caution, Sol took a step back, choosing not to push further at once.
Even so, his shoulders trembled slightly.
"No… I can't laugh," Sol muttered under his breath, forcing himself to suppress the impulse rising in his chest. "If 'She' ever knew about this…"
He paused, then couldn't help but let out a short, breathy chuckle.
"Damn it. This is outright sacrilegious."
The laughter escaped him despite his restraint—soft, quick, and immediately cut short as he regained control.
After steadying himself, Sol resumed the process.
He repeated it *three more times*, each attempt careful and deliberate. With every controlled exposure, fragments of knowledge surfaced—some clear, some distorted.
This time, he obtained several *practical spells*, along with pieces of *geographical knowledge*. There was also information related to *gears and engines*, most of which he already understood, making them largely redundant.
Alongside these were things far less useful.
Such as oddly specific insights—like the *most comfortable posture for
sleeping*… and *methods to sober up quickly*.
Sol didn't know whether to laugh or sigh.
Unfortunately, he failed to obtain any information regarding *the three body sizes of Lilith*.
"Heh," Sol exhaled quietly, shaking his head.