The Fool opened his caramel-colored eyes with difficulty; they were clouded with his newly awakened consciousness. His eyelashes trembled as he blinked repeatedly to regain his vision.
When his eyes cleared, he could finally see where he was. He was lying face down on the cracked pavement. It took him no more than a second to realize he was no longer in his dream, even though the city surrounding him bore a striking resemblance to the one he had built within his dream as a battlefield between himself and the Venerable Celestial. Once his vision fully returned, the differences became glaringly obvious: toppled buildings, cracked streets, and dark crimson stains, along with overgrown weeds, marred what must have once been a beautiful, modern city.
Everything indicated that a terrible calamity had befallen this place before its inhabitants, if they managed to survive, abandoned it.
Ignoring the terrible surroundings, the Madman used his hands to support himself and lift his upper body so he could sit down in the middle of what he was now sure was a road.
"I'm certain I was facing the Worthy Celestial just seconds before I arrived here…" His eyes closed as he tried to force his mind to remember. "My victory was near; I could finally fully merge with his imprint without being devoured by him, and I would become the true Lord of Mysteries… what happened then?" His mind was clouded. He couldn't help but compare his current state to the moment his soul first fell into Klein Moretti's body, and the memories of both—the newly graduated scholar and the computer engineer from ancient times—struggled to overlap. "Error…" His eyes opened as he remembered. "That's it: the Worthy Celestial attempted something insane, using the Marauder's Path Singularity as its foundation." Some of their brightness returned to his eyes as that thought surfaced.
However, rather than feeling happy about finally finding a clue about his situation, he felt furious. He bit his lips trying to contain the anger that kept rising stronger as more memories came to light.
"Did I really try to turn back time so I could have another chance to face him?" His hands clenched into tight fists. "Doesn't He, as an ancient Pillar, know that history cannot be entirely altered?"
Even with his brief time as God, The Fool was aware that the alterations he could make to History were minor; not even with the full authority of a Pillar at their peak could one change events that had already occurred. And if, by some miracle, this did happen, it would only result in Deceptions with a limited duration before History returned to its original course.
History, once written, cannot be changed.
It was something The Fool took very much into account thanks to the dozens of regrets he experienced throughout his life.
—However... here I am —muttered the Madman with his eyes closed, trying to stabilize his unstable mental state.
If his theory was true, then the sorry state of the city around him took on a new and disheartening meaning, as well as explaining the painful nostalgia that made his fake heart clench.
These were the remnants of a glorious age that humans never thought would end. Remains that in the present day are still enormous evidence of what was lost in the disaster, but to the Fifth Epoch they were only small crumbs that he could not recognize due to his hopeful blindness.
—But that possibility leaves more questions than answers—the theory of time travel seemed unreal to him, bringing fears and uncertainties about a possible last attempt by the Worthy Celestial to deceive him.
One last attempt to lull him into a sleep from which he would never want to awaken, and thus devour his stubborn soul and reclaim his former Throne. Not even the Fool himself would deny that the possibility of undoing every mistake he made during his ascent through the sequence would be tempting; no, it was too sweet even for him, a lover of sweetness.
"Coincidences have never been on my side," he muttered, trying to push away the negative thoughts. Justice wasn't around in case his mental state deteriorated, and even if he could pull out his historical projection, he feared it wouldn't be enough to stabilize him. He had to be careful. "If I can't find the answer myself, I just have to ask for guidance from the Spirit World; after all, a Diviner is one who interprets the subtle clues of fate." This reminded him of his short time in Tingen; everything was so simple back then, when he had the full physical and moral support of the rest of the Nighthawks and his family.
He waved his hand, having those moments in mind, and immediately a silver chain with a familiar cylinder manifested in his hand, straight from the Historical Void.
The carved stone reflected the subtle gold that was beginning to cloud his eyes. Images of moments shared with Leonard, Captain Dun, Miss Daly, Old Niel, and the rest of his Blackclun security company comrades flashed by, followed by the figures of those who had somehow had a great influence on him during his journey.
"If I have truly retreated..." her throat seemed to dry, "then there is a chance to save them all," she consoled herself in the lonely silence, feeling the faint hope ease the chaos that was her mind.
—I... have gone back in time—the phrase was repeated seven times as if that would help make the divination more accurate.
He had considered the possibility that divination might be compromised by the Worthy Celestial, but his own spirituality seemed to whisper to him that this would not be the case. And, as a faithful Diviner, the Fool decided to trust that instinct.
The cylinder remained silent for a few seconds. Then, very slowly, it began to rotate clockwise. The longer the divination lasted, the faster the cylinder slowed its rotation, always in the same direction.
The Fool remained silent before trying again; this time he threw a coin, also taken from the historical void, into the air.
The result was positive again.
"Hahaha, hahahaha!" he laughed and laughed, like a clown who wanted to suppress any sadness under a ridiculous and exaggerated smile.
But it didn't work; the intense pain of losing each of his acquaintances for the second time could only be eased by the knowledge that he would see them again in the distant future.
"Yes, I shouldn't see this as a curse," he murmured, feeling his mental tension ease. "Everyone will be reborn in the future; I just have to make sure that history follows its original course to some extent."
With the most serious problem cleared up, the Fool had the opportunity to analyze the state of his body with his spiritual vision.
"My sequence has descended; I'm now only a Sequence 2 Angel of the Diviner path: a Miracle Summoner. But I still retain some of the Marauder and Apprentice path characteristics I stole from Amon, including a Sequence 2 characteristic from both paths… Doesn't that make me a triple-path Angel?" he joked, smiling with feigned amusement. "The Sequence 1 singularities and characteristics have completely disappeared; there must be a reason… Wait a minute… What happened to my soul?!"
The damage was so hidden that it wasn't noticeable at first glance. But it was there: hundreds of tiny cracks covered what remained of his spirit, to the point where he thought that even the slightest touch could shatter what was barely clinging to life.
"Calm down, calm down," he repeated, using his cognition. Precisely because of his lamentable state, he shouldn't get upset; who knows if intense emotions might spread the cracks to the few remaining healthy areas?
The Fool's soul seemed to be torn apart; apart from the countless fissures, there were areas that appeared to have been roughly cut, leaving uneven extensions everywhere.
"Could this be a consequence of time travel?" was all she could think of. "But isn't it a bit much? It feels like a demon has been toying with my soul for years."
Let no one remind him that Tianzu could be that demon.
"If my theories are correct, this unexpected and almost impossible journey was due to the uncontrolled Singularity of Error, most likely caused by the clash of wills between Tianzu and me... Other factors must have played a significant role as well," he considered his options, or rather, the potential disasters. "Perhaps the Apprentice Path's Singularity also went out of control due to the influence of Error? And what about the Fool's Singularity?"
Her eyes opened in understanding.
—Was this journey caused by the chaos resulting from the three singularities losing control? Did the authorities' disarray over Space, Time, and Destiny cause a passage to the past to open, through which I was drawn?
His mind raced, connecting dots he had previously ignored and linking consequences to causes.
—That's a good explanation: if a loophole is first found within the rules of the universe that govern space-time, then a door is opened using that error as a basis, to finally use the Graft and stabilize the 'traveler's' presence so they are not detected by the rules of the universe once these return to normal and are expelled...
The Fool raised his right hand and stroked his temple, trying to relieve the headache that came from thinking that such an impossibility had become a reality.
"Did the Worthy Celestial really attempt something so crazy and imprecise without any preparation? Couldn't he have just sat back and accepted the fusion between them?" he let out a tired sigh.
She preferred to lean more towards the possibility that the whole situation was an absurd coincidence that had somehow come true. She couldn't believe that a Pilar, however crazy he might be, would even attempt such a ludicrous idea.
Letting out another deep sigh, she decided it would be best to stop thinking and concentrate on what was in front of her.
He retrieved a piece of parchment from the Historical Void and placed it on the floor. It was time to find out when he had regressed.
—In what era am I? —The cylinder rotated silently over the parchment and soon elegant letters written in ink stained its surface.
The Fool felt his blood run cold as he read the revelation offered to him by the Spirit World through divination. The worms that made up his body writhed in fear as they grasped all the hidden implications and dangers.
[Lost Era: year 124; First Epoch]
~So... Weren't the Almighty God and the Heavenly One Worthy of Blessings alive in this era and in the process of gradually losing their sanity from trying to surpass the state of Pilar?
The Fool covered his eyes with his hand, feeling his irritation and anger towards the Worthy Celestial return.
~Of course; not even time travel can get rid of him —I'd gone from having to face his residual will in the imprint of his characteristics to having to confront him with his main body in almost perfect condition~~ Does he hate me so much that he won't accept "leave me alone" for an answer?
Having reached this point, he was considering whether he really was "the King in Yellow and Black who brings Good Luck."
"Maybe I should have left the control of luck to Will..." he muttered listlessly.
---
The Madman sat down, letting out an exhausted sigh. Outside, the rain was pouring down; the enormous drops created a soothing sound as they struck the window through which he gazed out. That was the main reason he had ventured into one of the most intact buildings he had found. It was true that, as an Angel, he had no reason to take shelter from the rain, however intense it might be. Did it matter if his body got soaked? Not at all; as a mythical creature, he couldn't even get sick naturally.
The only reason he sheltered from the bad weather was because of his humanity: without anchors, he could only rely on small human customs and his memories to try to hold it together as best he could.
He had already spent several days wandering aimlessly, circling the abandoned city whose only inhabitants seemed to be the crazed creatures. And although that time had helped stabilize his fragile soul—only to the point where he was certain it would take more than one blow to break it—the truth was that it had done little to calm his growing anxiety.
"I must find the missing parts," he muttered to himself, clutching the clothes covering his chest tightly.
After much reflection on the very day of his arrival in this time, he had come to accept the conclusion that seemed most correct to him regarding the causes that had led his soul to such a lamentable state and the possible solutions.
The winner turned out to be the one involving the space-time paradox.
"There should never be two beings exactly alike; there will always be a small difference, however minimal, it will always exist." He was very aware of this fact, even more so when he was aware that the very fragments of the Original Creator's will present in every entity in the universe ensured that every being would follow this Law.
The Madman, of course, was no exception.
Initially, he was Zhou Mingrui, an ordinary computer engineer. Then he was Klein Moretti, a recent university graduate in Tingen with a small social circle. After that... after that came each of his identities, created for his convenience and needs. Each had a different appearance, personality, and goals.
One question inevitably arose:
Who was he really?
The human asleep for ages in Sefirah Castle?
The newly graduated scholar who encountered a tragedy due to Antigonus' Notebook?
The private detective who handled cases involving powers beyond his reach?
The crazy pirate hunter who terrorized anyone who had a bounty on his head?
The tycoon who entered aristocratic society with his head held high?
The wandering magician who created miracles to grant his own wishes?
The enigmatic Deity who, although distant, secretly cared for every member of his secret organization?
He felt confused, but at the same time he knew the answer.
First of all, it wasn't even a 'HE', it was a he.
It was all at once.
His soul was a mixture of the souls of modern man and the scholar of the future, along with those colors that symbolized the rest of his different identities.
He was the Madman, the sensitive being who pretended to be God and followed the path of Blasphemy until he became a True God, with the sole objective of protecting everything that mattered to him even if he was lost in the process.
There will always be things more important than oneself.
-----------
The campfire he had lit with the scraps of wood, in his desperate need for warmth, crackled as he silently watched it with thoughtful eyes.
"I must find the missing fragments of my soul. The part that belongs to Zhou Mingrui must still be sleeping in Sefirah Castle, but I can't even attempt to deepen my connection to the Sefirah without its current owner detecting me and coming to devour me." The Worthy Celestial still had a few hundred years before he finally died in his battle against the Almighty God. "Before his fall, any approach to the Sefirah will only end in my premature annihilation." He shook his head, mildly amused by his apparent good fortune. "In fact, I still don't know how he hasn't found me. Though small, he still possesses a connection to the Castle that should have been detected immediately, but this doesn't seem to have happened."
"Perhaps because of my connection to Zhou Mingrui's soul within the cocoons, he's mistaking my bond for his own and therefore doesn't perceive it as a threat, since it's something he already anticipated?" He tilted his head, contemplative. "Hmm, the misunderstanding works in my favor. As for Klein Moretti's soul... it's even further away"—his soul wouldn't form until the Fifth Epoch and was barely found in the first. I sighed; the outlook wasn't good. "It seems I'll be living a long time with a fragmented and unstable soul."
Despite it not being the first time he had found himself in a situation where he could only wait, such situations were still really irritating to him.
A loud cracking sound came from the roof above him; it sounded as if something heavy and large had fallen onto the building. Fortunately, the structure showed no signs of collapsing, which calmed the Angel: he already had enough on his plate without the roof literally falling on top of him.Another uncontrolled creature drawn to the features beyond me?" he murmured, activating his spirit vision and raising his head. "Will it be from my path or adjacent paths?"
The Angel sighed, rising to head for the stairs that led to the building's roof. It would be best to deal with the problem directly; if left unchecked, it could very well bring down their current refuge.
Even though the creature was hidden within the thick undergrowth, he could see it the moment he stepped onto the roof. The enormous creature was made up of countless worms writhing uncontrollably; its silhouette barely formed the translucent image of an ancient stone clock whose hands were equally twisted.
He immediately recognized that the creature belonged to the Marauder's Path and, at the very least, had to be a Sequence 2: the Trojan Horse of Destiny. Its almost completely defined form and the aura it emitted gave it away.
—A Sequence 2 of the Marauder's Path, the Trojan Horse of Destiny—he spoke in a low voice, not wanting to provoke the being in front of him.
In the eyes of the Angel of the Three Paths, the creature before him was acting strangely. Since he had rewound time, any creature in that state he had encountered had immediately attacked him, intending to devour him or simply satisfy its insatiable thirst for blood. Yet this one remained calm, despite the powerful convergence that should have compelled him to fight his own madness.
The crazed Angel's tentacles wandered aimlessly around him, always maintaining a safe distance. Only after seconds that felt like minutes had passed did one tentacle slowly approach him and cautiously coil around his arm.
He remained unfazed by the action, for his spirituality sounded no alarm, and he sensed no malice emanating from it. To his bewilderment, the tentacle didn't tighten its grip but instead tugged at his arm. The creature didn't seem to be asking him to come closer; instead, an incredible possibility arose in his mind as to what the being before him was asking for.
—You… are you asking me for help? —her eyes opened in understanding.
The creature seemed to understand, for immediately the gripping force in its arm increased, as did the intensity of the tugs.
"He's conscious... he's not perfect, and he's barely clinging to what little sanity he has left, but at least he's not like those who wander submerged in madness with no return"—he stared at the tentacle clinging to him, as if he knew it was his only salvation—"If I don't help him, he'll end up like the rest... but, should I really risk it?"
The answer was surprisingly easy to find.
How long had the being in front of him been wandering between the fine line of sanity and madness?
Would you let it get lost when helping wouldn't pose a great challenge?
The real question is: Am I willing to take the risk and change the future? —the tugs on his arm increased, causing him to sigh— When have I ever stood still knowing that I could help even if I risked too much?
It is true that changing the future carries risks, but can he simply remain still for so many years waiting for everything to happen as it was destined?
Is he really going to ignore those he could save with just a wave of his hand?
The answer was, of course, no.
By a true miracle, he had obtained this opportunity and he was going to take advantage of it, rather than just sitting back and hiding.
The survival of being in the face of him would only be the first of the many changes he would bring to this world as the "Lighthouse of Destiny".
With renewed resolve, he flicked his right wrist, stealing the Destiny of the creature before him and swapping it for that of a nearby animal that had not been affected by the afterlife's characteristics, all thanks to the Sequence 2 abilities of the Marauder's Path within him.
With the Madness Destiny stolen, the mythical creature's form began to change as its body compressed into a much smaller, more delicate one. The tentacle on its arm released its grip and retreated toward the main body, where it began to take the form of a human hand. Within seconds, the mythical creature's form had been replaced by a distinctly human female figure.
The young woman, who didn't look a day over twenty, opened her eyes and blinked in confusion; then she looked down at her hands, which moved in various directions as if testing their mobility. Her eyes traveled up her arm to her body, which she observed with great attention, her gaze lingering on it. She didn't even seem to care about the rain soaking her or her nakedness.
After the brief round of checks, she looked up to meet his gaze. Her eyes gained a faint gleam, the kind that always appears in people who have narrowly escaped the abyss.
The Madman said nothing, allowing the girl to slowly process her situation while he analyzed the state of her body. The Angel wondered if the white hair and purple eyes were the result of the qualitative change her body had undergone when she went from being a mere mortal to a being with divinity in a single leap.
"Perhaps it's simply a manifestation of his preferences," he wondered.
"I..." Her mouth opened slightly, letting out words in a language that was both unknown and familiar. She paused for a moment, but noticing their attention, she seemed to gather her courage and continue: "I want to... thank you."
The language, which was soon identified as Spanish thanks to his vague memories, was not difficult to understand or decipher thanks to the skills he gained from being a high-ranking member of the Marauder's Path.
~As one would expect from someone who became an angel and teetered on the brink of madness for decades —the voice sounded robotic despite its natural softness~~His humanity seems almost nonexistent... but that's something we can work on.
"If I may ask, who are you?" She seemed to be trying to sound calm, but I could still detect hints of suspicion in her. "What is your name?"
Upon hearing the last question, the Fool smiled. It was a genuine smile, not one of the fake ones he usually wore simply to maintain his mood.
"Now then, what name should I give you?" The Angel's smile expanded as he ran his hand over his face, manipulating it to change into one of his identities.
—You can call me... Merlin Hermes, the Wandering Magician and...
The Angel of Miracles.
Notes: