Chapter 200

"You actually possess transcendent abilities from different pathways—that's beyond my expectations." Amun snapped his fingers, and in the resonant chime of bells, he seized the spherical lightning and struck the massive black dragon.

"Normally, the Fortune Teller has very few means of self-harm, and you don't possess any Seal Objects from the Tyrant pathway."

"Moreover, you, who haven't reached the Angel tier, can still interfere with time."

"Heh, this is worth studying."

As Amun said, Kleine, as a Fortune Teller, had almost no means of self-harm, especially none that could swiftly end his life.

Kleine recalled all his abilities—paper doll substitution, flame leap, and even Historical Gap and Spirit Thread—they couldn't kill him; instead, they let him survive remarkably well.

In the transcendent realm, the Fortune Teller is severely one-sided.

"You think I didn't notice the mismatch between your actions and logic?" Amun grinned, eyes brimming with mockery; he lifted the monocle on his right eye socket and said to Kleine:

"You first wore the monocle on your left eye socket, then on your right—so here's the question: aren't you afraid Medici will just kill you outright?"

"Someone as precious of life as you would scare Medici twice in a row—unless you had some kind of backing, once would've been your limit."

"Coincidentally, I once served as a psychologist for a while. Based on my interactions with you these past few days, I preliminarily diagnose you've modified your own memories and consciousness."

Is it too cruel for Amun to act as a psychologist for his patients?

Kleine's expression didn't change; he merely let his thoughts drift, preventing Amun from stealing his deeper thoughts.

Just as Amun was about to act, he suddenly glanced sideways—a brilliant white-purple arc of extreme ice surged toward him, and beneath his feet, the barren land had begun oozing black tides from some unknown moment.

Like sobbing, or like a dying bird's lament, the dragon began chanting solemn, ancient words.

"Where did you meet this dragon?" Amun didn't dodge, for he sensed ripples in space—stealing distance was useless.

As Amun spoke, he donned a pointed soft hat, and a black, classical magician's robe appeared on his body.

The monocle carved from crystal above his right eye socket glowed faintly; behind him, the phantom clock standing atop the barren earth spun rapidly, its minute and hour hands crossing repeatedly until they finally converged at the position symbolizing twelve o'clock.

At that exact moment, the black dragon dissolved into a shadow and returned to history.

Amun stole my historical projection to preserve time!?

Kleine's heart sank—he still had a third method of self-destruction, but now that plan was ruined.

"You're… the original?" Kleine's throat felt dry, his voice hoarse.

Yet he still hadn't lost hope; more memories revived, and he still had more trump cards.

Setting aside nonsense like "Gulnara, Dark God" or other absurd incantations, he wasn't yet at the point of despair.

Amun smiled, not answering Kleine's question, and said casually: "I just saw a strange fate on that dragon—and your strange abilities seem somehow connected to it."

"Isn't that interesting?"

"A being possessing composite abilities from non-adjacent pathways—the last one was my father, who suffered betrayal."

"Of course, I believe this isn't related to Sequence power."

"The secrets hidden within you far exceed what I imagined."

Kleine paid no heed to Amun's words; he gradually brought himself into a relatively calm state.

"It seems you deliberately let me capture you, using the Observer pathway's power to make yourself forget certain secrets—secrets that, in your mind, are equivalent to the Source Altar?" Amun grinned, revealing his neat rows of teeth, his gaze sharp, his curiosity unhidden.

"I'm becoming more interested in you."

Kleine smiled faintly, casually stretching his body, and said: "Kill me."

"No!" Amun laughed with keen interest. "This is far too interesting—I won't kill you even after stealing the Source Altar."

"So, won't you at least consider becoming my Follower?"

"Just kill me," Kleine said, hands in his pockets, casually. "Where are we going next?"

"Oh? Why the sudden initiative?" Amun countered instead of answering.

"Guess?" Kleine maintained a polite smile, even considering pulling an ice cream from the Historical Gap—but before he could, Amun took it away.

Amun looked at the ice cream in his hand and smiled. "Good mindset."

Above the gray mist, the crimson stars corresponding to Tarot members began expanding and contracting, emitting light and creating ripples.

An invisible force resonated; on the bronze bench, a faint crimson silhouette materialized, while Su Lin and Zhong Li sat on either end of the foremost bronze bench, watching below.

They were both spectators and the final safeguard.

Of course, in Kleine's words, even in the original work Amun never succeeded—if he succeeds this time, then Kleine might as well not be the Fool.

Hmm, he only said he wouldn't be the Fool—he didn't say he wouldn't keep the Source Altar.

So if Kleine accidentally had the Source Altar stolen by Amun, then the moment Amun opened the Source Altar's gate and stepped inside, he would be attacked by two god-level beings.

Han Li: "Brother Zhou, your lightning-summoning has the elegance of a transcendent—but unfortunately, one cannot cultivate both paths simultaneously."

Han Li: "For normal people."

He added this specifically because several people in the group weren't normal.

Song Shuhang: "Cthulhu-style cultivation—limitless power~."

Zhang Chuyan: "The Daoist has finally understood everything, hahaha."

Zhang Chuyan: "Cough, sorry, just a joke."

Weigong Shilang: "So this is Amun himself—indeed, he looks just like a traditional magician."

Weigong Shilang: "Seeing him makes my right eye socket itch—I'm joking, Ye Fan, can you please put down the tripod?"

Xiao Yan: "Food can be eaten carelessly, but words can't be spoken recklessly—where's my monocle? Oh, found it."

Su Lin: "This is terrifying—there are too many Amuns in the group."

Inside Zhong Li's livestream, Amun suddenly received an epic enhancement, transcending all realms to parasitize.

Zhong Li glanced at Su Lin, who had donned the monocle, and fell silent for two seconds; though his adaptability was strong, sometimes he couldn't help feeling he was facing several Hu Taos at once.

"Should I be grateful there are no Amuns in the group?"

Lu Mingfei: "Is this really your limit? Can you give the Fool a real shock? @Su Lin"

Su Lin: "I can, but it's unnecessary."

Lu Mingfei: "Xiao Su, go give him a show."

Su Lin: "You're getting cocky?"

Lu Mingfei: "I even said I'd buy you a Gundam—Freedom model."

Su Lin: "Big bro, watch this!"

Zhongli smiled faintly, shaking his head in resignation.

Beneath the gray mist, Miss Kelaien's steps paused slightly as he looked up at the lightning streaking across the sky.

Not far away stood a towering giant, some thirty meters high, with vertical pupils devoid of any spark, its entire body covered in rotting, pus-filled sores; near where it wandered lay an extremely deep and dark chasm.

Amon had just introduced him: that was the youngest son of the Giant King Olmire, the "God of Honor," Bradell.

"So, this place is?" Miss Kelaien vaguely felt he should know its name.

"This is the sacred ground where my father awoke, the place where the history I seek is buried," Amon said, adjusting his monocle with solemnity: "Chernobyl."

Upon hearing the name, Miss Kelaien's casual demeanor vanished; he gazed briefly at Amon, a nameless emotion surging within him.

Not unexpected—but deeply disheartening.

"I never left."

"Chernobyl" acted as a keyword, unlocking the heavy shackles binding Miss Kelaien's Star Spirit and Star Intellect. Deep within his Mind Island, in a confession chamber shrouded in mist, a sliver of illusory sunlight pierced through stained glass, and the black-haired, brown-eyed youth opened his eyes.

"I've already digested the Ancient Scholar's Elixir!"

The moment this thought arose, gray-white mist appeared before him, and the prayer voices of the Tarot Society members echoed beside his ears.

Miss Kelaien instantly sensed his connection to the Source Fortress had strengthened further—he could return to the Source Fortress without incantations or the Four Steps Reverse!

He immediately sought to activate the Source Fortress, but found himself once again immobilized, as before, outside the Land of the Abandoned Gods.

Deep-level parasitism?!

"I've changed my mind," Amon said slowly, turning its head from not far ahead, its mouth stretching into an exaggerated grin; the voice issued simultaneously from its lips and Miss Kelaien's mind:

"Originally, I intended to give you time through this journey, to impart historical knowledge, help you digest the 'Ancient Scholar' Elixir, lower your guard on this front, and steal the Source Fortress the moment you realized your connection to it had deepened."

"But that was before."

"How could the Land of the Abandoned Gods lack high-tier Observer Path relics? I only needed to parasitize you to control the Observer Path's power and observe you in meticulous detail."

"Since I first detected contradictions within you, I've been watching. The giant dragon you summoned later, and your strange authority, confirmed one fact:"

"You were deliberately captured and brought to the Land of the Abandoned Gods."

"So just now, I returned the Time Worm I extracted back into your body—until this very moment, I confirmed you have some method of predicting my actions."

"This is truly fascinating. So I've decided to try another approach: keep you here. If necessary, taking on your fate is not unacceptable."

The Archangel's terrifying murmurs carried Amon's light laughter and ravaged Miss Kelaien's spirit.

On his skin's surface, countless "Spirit Worms" writhed and surged—he teetered on the edge of losing control.

"Come, I'll take you deeper into Chernobyl," Amon stole the distance between itself and Miss Kelaien, dragging him along in a state of total mental blankness as they walked into Chernobyl's interior.

But at that moment, the long-dead, rotting, pus-dripping one-eyed giant extended a massive blue-black hand to block Amon's path.

Amon's gaze sharpened as it studied the giant; behind it, countless nearly illusory black tubes extended endlessly into infinity.

Swish.

The dozens-of-meters-tall black giant suddenly condensed a great sword from orange-red glimmers in its hand, raised it, and swung it toward Miss Kelaien and Amon, still standing at the chasm's edge.

The son of the Giant King, who had wandered the Land of the Abandoned Gods for millennia without rest, unleashed unprecedented power—the blade crossed space, its edge forming a storm capable of obliterating this wasteland.

Amon made no move; this sudden attack could not harm it—it exploited a loophole in the rules to evade the strike.

"Night." Amon uttered a single word.

In the instant Amon activated its ability, it stole Miss Kelaien's thought of returning to the Source Fortress.

But Miss Kelaien's eyes were not confused; seizing this brief moment of clarity, he remembered more.

"Leodecro!"

Boom—boom—boom!

Thousands of silver-white lightning bolts rained down over the area.

Amon smiled; merely invoking a god's name was insufficient to breach its defenses or strike its true form—after all, it was only residual divine power. Even if Miss Kelaien called out every true name of every god whose power remained, the outcome would be the same.

The only complication was the "Night" currently controlling the Giant King's son.

So that's it—it had already seized the Singularity of the Death Path.

Black tubes extended from hidden darkness, attempting direct attacks on Amon, while Amon, through deep-level parasitism, sensed Miss Kelaien's next move and continued uttering names.

It did not stop Miss Kelaien's action, focusing instead on preparing to escape via rule manipulation.

"Ocuseus!"

Ha—the Eternal Sun's power, even before the name was fully spoken, descended as searing, blinding light.

"Su Lin!"

Amon turned its head sideways—not in Giant tongue, nor Ancient Hymnos, but in the language of the Old Era?

Under Amon's gaze, the residual divine power of the Eternal Sun coalesced into a humanoid form: a black-haired youth with sharply carved features, distinct contours, extraordinary beauty, and piercing white-gold eyes.

"Divine Descent?"

The moment this thought arose in Amon's mind, a flood of illusory, hazy light erupted within the depths of Miss Kelaien's mind, parasitized by Amon.

Inside the confession chamber extending from his Mind Island, the black-haired, brown-eyed Miss Kelaien chanted a spell, using himself as an anchor to become the conduit for the light's release.

Su Lin's avatar, formed from Ocuseus's divine power, gripped a sword of light above its head and launched a precise strike targeting the spellcaster.

【Divine Judgment】

The two "Time Worms" parasitizing Miss Kelaien's body instantly turned to ash.

At that moment, Miss Kelaien's Mind Intellect fully merged with its outer persona; a sudden thought flashed through him, and he looked at Amon beside him with a strange smile:

"The God of Light has revived within me."

The moment he finished speaking, Kleine's entire body turned into a skin wrapped in condensed light energy!

The Time Worm of Amon was merely the beginning; each Spirit Worm within Kleine gradually purified by light, torrents of holy radiance burst forth from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.

In less than a second, Kleine's flesh was utterly purified, his consciousness and spirit returning to the Source Fortress.

After a few seconds of silence, Amon adjusted his glasses, looked up toward the infinite heights of the Source Fortress, and slowly curled his lips as he whispered, "Fascinating."

Meanwhile, within the ancient palace above the Gray Mist.

At the head of the bronze long table, Kleine—with black hair, brown eyes, and an scholarly air—gradually merged with the "Crimson" silhouette; as his consciousness revived, he sensed layered, overlapping prayers echoing beside his ears.

"Sikquan, thoughts surging like a spring!"

"Nianke Sword, never forget!"

"Xiao Ke Palm, generation after generation!!!"

"Xiao Ke, Xiao Ke, Xiao Ke!"

"Pleasure in pain, witch's flavor!"

"Illiterate in despair, curly-haired baboon!"

"True words in void, Leodero!"

"Solitary dance within the Source Fortress, Mystery Lord!"

Kleine's eyes suddenly widened, forcibly seizing control of his spirit body!