Gazing with great interest at the prostrate Verdu, Amon—who had already turned the Dark Angel Kotar into a marionette avatar and brought him out of the Forsaken Land of the Gods—curled his lips. He raised an arm covered in dark, short fur and pinched his right eye.
Verdu's deviating fate was quietly concealed, as if slipping through a loophole of Fate. Then, a majestic, low voice echoed:
"After long ages, there is still someone who remembers My honorific name. Lucky mortal, speak your prayer..."
The pain originating from the depths of his soul vanished instantly. His body restored to its original state, Verdu suppressed his inner shock. His resolve hardened as he maintained his prostrate position, responding piously:
"I am grateful for Your mercy, Great God of Wishes. I wish to pray to You for the return of my ancestor, Mr. Door, Bethel Abraham, to the real world!"
A silent stillness made Verdu instinctively hold his breath until the voice of the Great Being sounded again, releasing him from the brink of suffocation:
"The price for directly fulfilling this wish is not one you can afford. However, it can be replaced by a ritual—specifically, a ritual involving the sacrifice of a Bizarro Sorcerer, a Secrets Sorcerer, and a Parasite. You should have known this long ago."
"Lucky mortal, believe in Me and serve Me with greater devotion. Perhaps one day, I will help you complete this ritual..."
As the tempting whispers faded, Verdu's figure vanished from the castle. The deep darkness receded, and the dark-furred Dark Undying Wolf transformed back into Amon, wearing a pointed soft hat, a monocle, and classical mage robes. He curled his lips and clicked his tongue playfully:
"Abraham..."
The dark, majestic palace shattered like a Historical Projection. Facing the suddenly bright rays of the evening glow, the Angel of Time raised a hand to adjust his monocle. He looked toward the greyish-blue building ahead—one side a spire, the other a round tower—covered in symmetrical symbols, marks, and patterns.
It was the residence of the Giant King, the sleeping place of the Dark Angel Sasrir, and the location of the first Blasphemy Slate.
The bait had been scattered. He was waiting for an opportunity—perhaps the only opportunity—and an excellent hunter is always patient.
East Chester County, Tomb No. 9.
Only when the dark-gold symbolic patterns had completely replaced the original inscriptions on the tomb's surface and begun to assimilate into its depths did Arron restrain the boundless dark-gold tide. He looked toward the magnificent, dreamlike crystal at his side.
This was the remnant left behind after Hermes' persona-avatar self-disintegrated; it was also a medium for contact. As for the true body of that ancient Angel, his whereabouts had been unknown since the dust settled on George III's fall.
Having anticipated Hermes' caution, Arron accepted the crystal. In the current situation, the absence of one Angel wouldn't change the grand scheme of things.
Surveying the silent, ruined tomb, Arron felt the digestion speed of his newly accommodated Hand of Order characteristic increase after completely replacing the ruins' order with his own. Perhaps once all nine tombs belonged to him—combined with the feedback from controlling Loen—he would fully digest the potion and gain the qualification to impact the Throne of Divinity.
Calming his thoughts, Arron took the Star Crown from the Nation of Disorder. The many gems embedded upon it emitted a faint shimmer, condensing into symbolic signs that merged into the tomb's own teleportation array.
The opening incantations for entry and exit were modified, and the Spirit World coordinates of the gateway shifted. A deep-blue starlight portal stood once more beside the tomb.
Deep in the Sonia Sea, the Ring Island of the Elven survivors.
The sound of wind and thunder carried by the waves never ceased. The Dawn, the second flagship of the Pirate King's fleet (second only to Satoru Gojo the Black Emperor), was quietly docked outside the island. Wearing a dress with complex patterns, her deep blue hair flowing smoothly, the Cataclysmic Interrer Siatas stood on the deck. Her slightly tyrannical, terrifying aura made all passing Elves hurry their pace.
Sensing something, Siatas suddenly turned toward the center of the island. A hurricane erupted, carrying her into the air. Her hair defied gravity, spreading out and crackling with lightning. The sky turned grey as dark clouds gathered and bolts of electricity leaped through the air.
Before the lightning storm could fully coalesce, Siatas' ears twitched. She waved her hand to disperse the clouds and ordered several Sequence 5 Elven Elders to gather the clans. With a respectful expression, she flew toward the center of the island, where a deep blue portal had appeared.
"Lead the Elven survivors to repair the tomb behind the teleportation gate as quickly as possible..."
The calm, majestic voice echoed in her mind. Siatas knelt on one knee and whispered respectfully:
"I obey Your divine oracle!"
Southernmost tip of East Balam, Southern Continent: The Abyss of Ferrying.
Using the Star Crown to travel from the Northern Continent, Arron sat cross-legged atop the inverted tomb at the center of the City of the Dead, Manuel. He looked down upon the massive architecture that far exceeded the scale of the Blood Emperor's ruins.
Thick black fog saturated with the aura of death was drawn by invisible forces. Under the flickering candlelight, it formed illusory doors covered in strange symbols. Undead creatures emerged from the seemingly boundless darkness, tirelessly repairing the city that had nearly perished in the Pale Catastrophe.
Thanks to the experience of Roselle, the previous Black Emperor, Arron had a profound understanding of the "acting" and the advancement ritual. As a deity ruling the physical realm, the subjects submitting to the Emperor were not limited to humans; Sanguine, Elves, and even the Undead could be his subjects.
This was why he decided to let the Elven survivors repair Tomb No. 9. "Acting" as the Black Emperor in a way that felt more authentic and fitting would help mitigate the negative influences when he eventually used the ritual to accommodate the Black Emperor Uniqueness to strike at the level of a Great Old One.
Repairing the tombs was a clever way to exploit Anchors and enforce his own Order, which would also help him further digest his potion.
Withdrawing his thoughts, a deep cluster of dark light appeared in Arron's hand. Dark-gold patterns roamed its surface as if alive. This was the final Prince of Order characteristic remaining after he had gifted one to Roselle.
Shadows, distinct from the black fog, rapidly expanded, instantly enveloping the entire inverted tomb. Coinciding with the corruption of the Nation of Disorder's aura, he slowly distorted and modified the symbols in the tomb that originally pointed to concepts of Death and Decay.
Unlike the Blood Emperor's ruins—which were built specifically for the Black Emperor's advancement—this tomb in Manuel was originally the headquarters of the Numinous Episcopate. It required him to personally use the authority of the Prince of Order to perform deep-level repairs to meet the ritual's requirements and trigger the feedback of potion digestion.