Edward was dumbstruck.
One layer after another—was this endless scheme really determined to see him dead before it stopped?
He had thought that being inexplicably dragged into the Dragon of Imagination's resurrection was already troublesome enough. Who could have imagined that hidden within all this mess was also the matter of "God Almighty's" resurrection?
But he was only Sequence 4!
Wasn't this happening far, far too early?
Adam…with the situation this dire, do you truly still know nothing, still do nothing?
Just as the thought crossed his mind, the Mind Dragon suddenly let out a shrill, agonised scream. From above, a silver-white cross glowing faintly with golden radiance manifested out of thin air, piercing straight through the dragon's body.
"No!"
The dragon roared in fury, slashing frantically with its claws, biting wildly with its fangs against the cross—yet it was utterly useless.
Buzz!
Golden light rippled outward from the cross, dispersing into the surroundings. Wherever it passed, the darkness covering the dragon's body rapidly melted away.
"No!!!"
The dragon's second roar shook reality itself, but in the next instant its body turned illusory—and then vanished.
"That was…"
Before Edward could even piece it together, everything before his eyes dissolved. Enveloped once more by boundless grey fog, he opened his eyes to find himself back within the Hall of Truth.
But the great hall of the dragon had somehow changed. The ancient stone pillar that had stood within had transformed into a towering cross over a hundred meters tall.
Before the cross stood a vast and indistinct silhouette, gazing with pity and compassion upon all spirits, bearing the weight of all things.
Within the Hall of Truth itself, rows of black-backed seats had appeared—but upon them sat only a single praying figure.
That lone figure sat in the very centre of the first row, eyes closed, dressed in a plain white robe. A faint golden beard covered the lower half of his face, and his hands clasped a silver crucifix pendant over his chest. His expression was gentle, serene, and calm.
Adam.
Amon stood silently off to one side, the corners of his lips curved in a subtle smile. The flesh and blood that had once been Steph still writhed weakly upon the ground, trying in vain to piece itself back together into "resurrection."
As for the dragon—whether Ariehogg, Ankewelt, or even God Almighty Himself—its massive form now lay collapsed before the cross. The darkness that had shrouded it was gone, its eyes restored to their faint golden hue.
Behind the throne, the bronze doors had shut once more, sealing away whatever horror had been lurking within that pitch-black abyss.
I knew it!
How could something of this magnitude possibly escape Adam's awareness, possibly be left unattended?
At that moment, Adam raised his head, revealing eyes clear and pure as those of a child.
He rose slowly to his feet, his expression tranquil as he spoke:
"You've done well…Number Eight."
Edward's pupils constricted.
In that instant, everything became clear.
From the very beginning, he had guessed that all of this might have been orchestrated by future Ariehogg or Ankewelt, or perhaps even the present ones. But never—not once—had he considered that Adam Himself was the one orchestrating it all.
Of course.
If the fallen Dragon of Imagination and even God Almighty could leave behind contingency plans, how could Adam, who was still alive, possibly have no countermeasures of his own?
From the start, Adam's aim had been unmistakable. The resurrection—the contingency—of the Dragon of Imagination was never a true threat to Him. The real danger lay in the pollution of the Chaos Sea, in the possible revival of God Almighty's consciousness.
So He had deftly made use of the Dragon of Imagination's contingency, made use of Edward's immunity to corruption, made use of the power of the Sefirah Castle, made use of Amon and Steph…even the luck blessed by the Little Snake had been factored into His calculations.
All of it, for one purpose: to draw out the lurking consciousness of God Almighty.
Adam could not destroy that consciousness, of course. But He had succeeded in erasing the Dragon of Imagination's persona, turning the revived fragment of God Almighty into a rootless phantom—and then resealing it, severing its chance at resurrection.
And then—
Adam extended His hand toward the dragon collapsed upon the ground. A shimmering scale floated free from its body, glimmering faintly before settling into His palm.
Edward's instincts screamed at him: this was the Sequence 1 Beyonder characteristic of the Spectator pathway.
He had always believed Adam was already 2+1. Never would he have thought that one of the Sequence 1 characteristics had remained in Ariehogg's possession all this time.
Adam's entire scheme had borne fruit: he had erased the persona the Dragon of Imagination had left behind as its contingency, sealed away the consciousness of God Almighty, and claimed a Sequence 1 Beyonder characteristic.
Truly—he'd hit the jackpot.
If schemes were gambling, Adam had just "won big."
The First Emperor of Qin had once touched lightning—Adam had gone a step further: he'd harnessed it.
But what about me?
Was I nothing more than an actor playing my role in someone else's drama?
"Leader, when did you realise that I…"
Adam's gaze remained gentle. "Not long ago."
"Do you remember what I said at the last gathering? The trend of the times had shifted."
Edward nodded.
"But such a shift…to me, it was more boon than bane. All I had to do was find the one who caused it—and ride the current."
His golden eyes softened. "So, thank you, Number Eight."
As He spoke, a bronze-green cross appeared in His hand. Adam stepped lightly toward the dragon's massive head—yet somehow, it was He, not the dragon, who seemed immeasurably great.
He drove the cross into the Mind Dragon's body. A flash of light crossed His golden pupils, and from within the dragon's flesh emerged a faint, dreamlike mass of gray-white matter, shaped like a brain but thin as mist, unreal as a dream.
This was clearly a Beyonder characteristic of the Spectator pathway.
Adam caught the cluster of power and casually tossed it to Edward.
"This is the Dream Weaver's Beyonder characteristic you wanted."
"…"
Edward accepted it, but he felt no joy, no gratitude—he couldn't even form the words "thank you." After a pause, he asked quietly, "And what about me…?"
"I don't care," Adam said evenly.
"I am not curious. Nor will I interfere. I will not ask you anything, and you need not tell me anything. All you need do is treat today's events as a transaction. The price—this Dream Weaver's characteristic."
His golden eyes met Edward's directly. "Primordial One's contingency has been severed. Ankewelt is utterly dead. I have achieved my goal, and you have obtained what you desired. Each has taken what they need."
"So tell Me, can you accept such an outcome?"
"…"
Could he say no?
Everything was already set in place.
By Adam's account, they had all "won." Yet the sense of being controlled, arranged, made Edward feel suffocated.
And he had not forgotten—Adam, Amon, and Cheek had joined hands to kill Lilith. Though Lilith had not truly perished, that grudge…could never simply be set aside.
Amon chuckled, adjusting his monocle. "What are the two of you discussing? I, too, contributed quite a bit. Shouldn't I receive a share as well?"
Edward's voice was calm as he answered, "Magnify—Theft is forbidden here."
"Heh. Amusing."
Adam's voice was mild as ever. "You may leave."
At once, Edward felt himself forcibly expelled—by the Hall of Truth, by the City of Miracles, and by the sea of collective subconscious of the Book World itself. His body rose weightlessly, drifting backwards.
In that moment, he glimpsed Adam once more seated at the foremost black chair, silver crucifix clasped in both hands, eyes closed, whispering a devout prayer to that vast, indistinct silhouette before the cross.
A phantom door appeared silently in the air. Edward was swept backwards through it.
Light and day dissolved into darkness. Snowflakes like goose feathers drifted across his vision once again.
He was back in the frozen world of Groselle's Travels. Ahead stretched the road swallowed by snow and night, and at the place where the Frost Dragon had fallen now stood a snow-covered illusory door. Behind him lay the cave where Groselle and the others camped.
"…Do you truly not care?" Edward murmured, gazing at the Dream Weaver's characteristic. "Not care for the direction of the future? Not care whether history flows along your design? Not care whether you succeed in stopping the Outer Gods and protecting Earth?"
"Or is it…that you care deeply, but fear that knowing the future too soon would influence the choices you make now?"
After a long silence, he tucked away the characteristic and turned into the cave.
The five were still gathered by the fire, sitting on sofas around the crackling flames. At the sound of footsteps, they all lifted their heads. Mobet immediately leapt up. "How did it go?"
Edward nodded slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "We can leave this place."
"…"
For a moment, silence hung heavy—then the five pairs of eyes shone with excitement. Even the ascetic Snowman, usually stoic and taciturn, showed a flicker of anticipation in his expression.
"But are you prepared," Edward asked quietly, "to live on as evil spirits from this day forward?"
Groselle chuckled, voice rumbling. "Living is worth more than anything else."
"Then let's go."
Edward took the lead, the five following close behind as they stepped out of the cave and toward the snow-laden illusory door.
He strode forward, bent slightly, and pressed both palms against its surface.
"Let's take one last look at this world."
At his words, the others turned their heads, gazing out at the frozen land. Their faces carried all manner of emotions—but not a shred of attachment.
Who would cling to a false world?
"Let's go!"
Edward heaved with both arms, pushing the snow-covered door wide open.
Silently, everything before them turned illusory, then transparent—then vanished.
In its place appeared a simple living room, furnished with several sofas and scattered uniquely styled ornaments—neither Intis nor Loen in design.
Through the window, they saw green trees in the near distance, the golden glow of dusk in the sky farther out, and beyond that, the endless expanse of deep blue sea.
"We're out…We actually got out."
Mobet whispered first.
Edward exhaled deeply. "Where has the Russian Priest tossed Groselle's Travels this time? What is this place?"
Edward looked around, lowering his gaze to search—but the book was nowhere to be seen. Clearly, Adam had taken it away.
Which meant, once the ability he had "consumed" expired, he would no longer be able to use Prohibition.
He wasted no time. Ending the summoning, Edward vanished before the astonished eyes of the others—returning to the Sefirah Castle.
Dropping heavily into the bronze chair, he immediately channelled spirituality into the crimson stars symbolising the five companions. This time, with little effort, he pulled them into the Castle.
———
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