Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Time passed, as it was oft to do.

I walked the world as I always did – a spring in my step and a song at the tip of my tongue.

I couldn’t bring myself to let go of the past, but perhaps there was no need to do so.

I crafted new songs, tried out new dances, let myself be spun round and round by Hermes until I was laughing and he was smiling.

I would never forget, but it was time to move on.

The world had changed around me.

Already, mankind was progressing once more, slowly reaching the heights they once did in the past.

Thousands of years of civilization had been lost, but it had recovered, as all things did.

Perhaps it was the Artisan who had pushed things along – he had been one of the few to reach the archives hidden away by my brother, who had done so for this exact purpose.

The gazes of the gods laid keenly on us but left us be.

Abraxas came back to us, brought by a door made of stars. His face was grim, and he held a beautiful glowing jewel in his hands.

A Sequence 2 characteristic.

I knew at once what he wanted to ask of me.

“Are you certain?” I asked before he could even try to speak.

“There’s no one else I would turn to for help.” The boy I had helped raise, the child who had to learn to grow up, said.

“Are you certain?” I asked again. I would offer him aid without question. That was not the intent of my query.

Abraxas fell silent. “I’m the last one left.” He finally said. He raised his head and his too-bright eyes met mine. “I have to do this, Vati.”

“No one ever has to do anything.” I told him, clasping my hands over his. And yet I knew the weight of duty all too well.

With Abraxas’ ascension to a Sequence 2 angel came newfound responsibilities.

He was the only one of his generation still alive, one of the few angels left in the Abraham family.

Hermes and I were invited to the ceremony. It was a show of alliance and power, to tell the other angel families that the Abrahams still had their connections and the ability to produce angels.

I had never been one for politics, for all that my existence was tightly tied to them.

Hermes, on the other hand, knew this playing field well.

I never asked and he never told, but I had always known that he was deeply involved in every kingdom.

Just for today, I was dressed up in a silken suit that was the latest fashion. The materials were expensive, and ordinarily the craft would be too, but I was the best craftsman in the world if one set aside the Artisan.

Fashion and trends changed so easily. Music, too, was not exempt. The old songs were sung still, but there would always be new ones. I listened and learnt, taking those songs into my repertoire.

“I feel old.” I bemoaned. With the exception of my brother and perhaps Evernight, I was the oldest being in the world. This was not a realization that should be popping out every few centuries as it often did.

“You are old.” Hermes replied, tone even. There was a smile on his lips, a flicker of amusement that I knew was there for me to catch.

Abraxas, now the head of the Abraham family, no longer travelled with us, though there were moments when he would push aside his duties to walk the world with song and dance.

I had to admit that it felt a little lonely, seeing the child who once tagged along at our heels grow up and leave.

“Do you like children?” Hermes asked.

“Everyone is a child to me.” I told him, knowing well that he could sense my melancholy.

We travelled from Intis to Loen to Feysac to Feynapotter.

When we returned to Intis again, the Artisan – Stiano himself greeted us, in a vessel that was more clockwork than man.

The archive my brother had dedicated his life to was being excavated, every book transcribed and the contents translated.

“There are some written in languages we cannot understand.” Stiano admitted. “Will you lend us your aid, Musician?”

I remained silent, thinking for a moment. Then I said, “no matter the contents, all the books are to be preserved.”

That was my condition. I could not bear it if even a single book was lost.

“Of course.” Stiano agreed.

I knew the Church of Craftsmanship had taken over my brother’s treasured archive, but seeing so many people scour over the shelves still made a pang of loss wash over me.

Hermes frowned, the emotion breaking through the depiction of a genial old man. “Artisan,” he said, “this building does not belong to you.”

A few members of the church stiffened and wandered away. A younger pair of eyes watched us, wide and curious, only to be herded away by a senior member.

Stiano’s vessel paused. “My apologies, Musician.” An apology from a true god was rare, almost impossible to obtain.

“It’s fine. My brother did not spend his life writing these books to let them go to waste.” I walked to a shelf and trailed my fingers over the spines of several books.

The proof that they had existed… and the hope that so many had left for the future.

“It seems that not all from your civilization has been lost.” Hermes told me, long after we left.

I glanced at him.

‘One amongst them could read the forgotten languages.’

I took out my guitar and started to tune it. “That’s nice to hear.” I said slowly.

‘I will keep an eye on that one.’ The thought was hesitant in nature.

When had he ever needed my permission for anything?

“Do as you wish.” I told him, a smile playing on my lips.

Chapter Text

The child that caught Hermes’ eye went by the name of Roselle.

I had fostered a child – Abraxas, who had grown into himself and become an angel. It seemed fitting that it was Hermes’ turn.

“He is arrogant.” Hermes said. “I much preferred Abraxas and his shy overtures.”

I laughed. “Such is the trouble of raising children. My brother’s angels were arrogant as well. They only ever got worse as they grew up.”

“Do you consider ‘growing up’ the passing of years, or the advancement in strength?” Hermes asked me.

“Wisdom and strength. Does strength not come in many ways?” I asked in turn. “Knowing how to handle obstacles as they come. Learning how to navigate the world. Realizing that no one can truly stand alone, not even gods.”

Hermes fell silent for a while. “How long have we walked together, Vati?”

“Thousands of years. Less than half of my life, yet it feels like an eternity.” I said.

“I have known you for all my life.” Hermes murmured. “The living legend, older than every god still in existence.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Evernight might give me a run for my money.” A smile curled on my lips.

Once in a while, the gods would send emissaries, seeking to make me take a side in their conflict.

My brother’s former angels – now gods, watched me warily, not quite daring to push me, yet unwilling to see me turn to another side.

“What do you think, Hermes?” I asked my faithful companion.

“You have a great deal of knowledge and are in possession of many artifacts. Your connections are hardly lacking either.” Hermes said. “After all,” a faint smile curled on his lips, “any who manages to tempt the Wandering Musician will surely gain the allegiance of ‘Their’ merry band as well.”

A part of me had always known his loyalty for me, but to hear it said aloud…

I fell into a silent daze for a while, then I asked, “who do you favour?”

Hermes’ smile fell slightly. “Perhaps the eldest son.”

Right. Hermes and Adam were… friends.

“If the side I choose opposes him, what will you do?” I asked, then immediately shook my head. “No, don’t answer that.”

Hermes paused. “I suppose I will have to dabble. What was the term…? ‘Part-time’, you said?”

I laughed.

“I imagine you would dislike being under the children you once watched over.” Hermes continued.

I hadn’t given that too much thought. Thinking of them made me feel a muted sense of sorrow and loss.

They killed my brother. My brother who had long lost himself.

I didn’t begrudge them for it.

Yet it felt too much like a betrayal if I were to kneel to them.

“Do you intend to stand under your brother’s banner once more?”

My brother and his acts of depravity, his madness growing worse by the day. I wasn’t like Ouroboros or Medici. I couldn’t stand aside. I couldn’t allow innocents to die before my eyes.

Not anymore.

Hermes knew the answer from my expression.

“Evernight then? Or the Artisan? You have a friendship with Them both.”

The Artisan was slowly losing control from within, having grown too much too fast.

I couldn’t bear to see another self-proclaimed god lose himself before my eyes.

And Evernight…

We were friends in the vaguest sense of the word. We might reminisce of older days, of better times. But in the end, both of us had different goals.

She saw my sentimentality as a weakness and I found her cold-hearted schemes a sign of her lacking humanity.

“What of the giants?” Hermes asked me.

The giants? The descendants of the ones who I had once slayed and razed to the ground? Ha!

Hermes fell silent.

“I see.” He finally said. “The Wandering Musician will remain as free-spirited as ever.”

“You know me, Hermes.” I told him. “I’m too old to play these games with children.”

“Like children waiting to see who an elder sibling prefers.” Evernight murmured.

“Whoever I join will have the favour of Hermes and the Abraham family.” I tilted the teacup back and forth. “I will not have this imposed on them.”

“You have always been sentimental.” Evernight said. The dreamscape changed to the landscape of Intis, slowly growing and advancing, faster than every other land. “The Artisan’s work has grown familiar as of late. I recall He travelled with you for a time.”

I looked at the buildings, familiar yet not. “How long will it take?” I asked, ignoring Evernight’s pointed not-question. “When everything is built up again, how long will it take until it starts crashing down?”

“I do not know, myself.” Evernight said softly. “We are waiting for a Lord of Mysteries. Once, most of us placed our bets on Bethel Abraham, but now… We seek a new contender.”

“Not Amon?” I asked idly.

“…not everyone has the capability to forgive as you have.”

I laughed, the sound sharp like the screech of a stringed instrument. “Forgive? I have forgiven no one!” I looked at Evernight. “Just because I do not pursue old grudges does not mean I have forgiven or forgotten!”

“And so you will continue to dance and sing, leading those gods on, seeking an old familiarity and clemency all at once.” Evernight shook her head. “You should have been the new Paragon.”

“I cannot be a god. Not again. It took too much from me.” I said quietly.

“It would be much easier, now.” Evernight’s voice was soft, sleepy.

We watched as the dreamscape shifted again, from Intis to something much older and more familiar.

Cars drove past, signboards with logos blurred and slogans half-remembered. People with blank faces walked past us, caught up in their own lives.

I held out a hand. A violin formed. I placed the bow to the strings and began playing an old, familiar song.

Evernight closed her eyes and listened quietly until the end of the dream.

Chapter Text

7 October

My mentor said he wanted to introduce me to his friend. I wonder if it’s a pretty girl.

10 October

Oh heavens, I met another transmigrator!

He called me a shameless plagiarizer. Some people just don’t understand what it means to be resourceful!

I asked him if he was the one who created the Archives. He said that the Archives were compiled by his brother. From the sound of it, his brother is dead.

I have to remember that just because I’m the protagonist of the era doesn’t mean that I can let my guard down.

At least I finally have someone else who knows what our home is like, even if he’s from another country.

5 January

I should have gotten my senior transmigrator’s name earlier!

The Wandering Musician! A real-life angel straight from the legends! How old is my senior? The legend’s from thousands of years ago!

Fuck! That means the old man’s an angel too!

I really must be a chosen one.

But if he’s — no, ‘He’ is so strong, why didn’t He manage to go back home? Don’t tell me that even the power of an angel isn’t enough?

When I asked, He didn’t reply.

My intuition told me that I shouldn’t ask any further.

7 January

I’m heading out to explore the seven seas!

Senior Vati said that I’m not charismatic enough to be Simba. Tsk tsk. We’ll see who’s laughing when I finish charting out a sea route!

He wanted to come along on a sea adventure, but when I told him that I’m not accepting old men on board my ship, He turned into a pretty woman and asked me if old women were allowed.

Ahem, ahem.

It’s really nice to be popular with women isn’t it? Even an angel wants to get on my good side haha.

8 January

Senior Vati pushed me overboard and told me to stop staring at Her chest.

9 January

Two more people joined us onboard. If I hadn’t seen the old man, no one would have realized it!

Senior Vati introduced us. She called the old man Hermes and the other one Abraxas. Hermes! The founder of modern mysticism! The mysterious old man I picked up as my mentor turned out to be such a big-shot!

Is this the fate of a protagonist?

Senior Vati said that She usually travels with Them.

I thought that angels were supposed to be lofty beings, not a bunch of musicians.

A traveling band of angels is pretty cool though.

I asked if I could join Them and She told me that I wasn’t suitable.

Tch. We’ll see who’s suitable as soon as I make it big!

10 January

I’ve heard of the Wandering Musician and Hermes, but I’ve never heard anything about someone called Abraxas.

When I asked Senior Vati about Him, She drew up a business card on the spot and told me about the new Abraham delivery service.

Who’s plagiarizing now sister?

I asked Her if the gods are willing to let Them do whatever they want like that.

Senior Vati just smiled at me and said that She’s always been popular with angels and gods.

Fuck! Why’s an angel so petty?

11 January

The angels finally left. Whew!

I only just realized that I should have asked Senior Vati to play Pirates of the Caribbean for me.

20 May

My Bernadette was born yesterday.

She’s such a cute and lovely baby!

It’s a shame she will never know her real grandparents or the advanced civilization of that peaceful world…

I asked Senior Vati to be her godparent.

The concept of godparents might not exist in this world, but if I know that this senior transmigrator is looking after her, I can rest assured.

If anything happens to me, at least there will still be someone who can provide my daughter with a link to our world and our past.

When I said this, Senior Vati looked a little lost.

He asked me what I would do if I could never find a way home.

I instinctively felt a sense of rejection when I heard that.

No, I have to keep being optimistic! My hometown is waiting for me!

If being a Sequence 2 angel isn’t enough, maybe Sequence 1?

Sigh, the Sequence 7 me still has a long way to go.

15 January

My senior transmigrator never shows much respect to the gods.

When I asked, She smiled and asked me who I thought was the elder.

Fuck, that’s a scary thought.

If I can’t find my way home, I might end up wandering aimlessly for thousands of years like Her.

But does that mean the gods didn’t always exist?

When I asked Her that, She said, ‘I stepped aside for the Artisan to take the stage.’

The Artisan? Why does that name remind me of the God of Craftsmanship?

7 March

My senior transmigrator sure had the right idea.

The Abraham delivery service is really convenient!

It’s a shame that they close every time the full moon comes around.

Is it a necessity of the Apprentice pathway?

10 March

Mr Hermes said that the Apprentice pathway suffers from a curse laid on them by the Sequence 1 Key of Stars angel.

High Sequence Beyonders of the same pathway can affect those of lower Sequences.

The effect should qualitatively lower when I reach the status of a demigod.

I’m just two steps away from reaching that status! Haha, am I the fastest rising genius or what?

Chapter Text

Roselle rose fast and just as quickly declined.

I had seen so many of such occurrences that it didn’t surprise me in the least.

But—losing someone who once too lived in the world of the past still left me feeling a little melancholic.

“His desperation and pride made him reach for the throne of the gods.” Hermes said evenly.

“What a useless throne.” I scoffed bitterly. In his climb, he committed many acts of atrocity.

I saw the mirror of my past self in his madness – yet I could not intervene. There were too many eyes on him. Roselle made his choice and everyone else had to suffer for it.

I received a prayer one day.

Matilda, Roselle’s wife, begged me to watch over her children.

“My husband’s gone mad.” She whispered. “We might have power now, but the moment He falls, the Sauron family will kill us all!”

“And what about you?” I asked her.

Matilda was silent for a moment. She shook her head. “I’ve been by His side for so much of my life. If He falls, I will fall alongside Him. But I can’t do that to my children. Please, help them!”

A little curious, a little cruel, I then asked her, “Roselle cheated on you often. Even knowing that, you will still follow him to the grave?”

Matilda looked me in the eye. “Your excellency, pardon me, but you have never fallen in love, have you?”

I could not formulate a response then.

“I might not be the only woman in His heart, but I am still His wife. And if with my death, the cries calling out for the blood of my children will be sated, I will be content.”

I found that I quite admired a woman like her.

Bornova’s life had already been charted out for him. Born one step away from a demigod, personally having received grace from Stiano – his life was dedicated to the church and he was content with it.

It took me by surprise when I realized that he was already a young adult, so different from the toddler I had seen toddling after his elder sister.

“I will follow the will of my Lord.” The now-demigod told me gently but firmly.

I felt a little complicated.

“Should Roselle’s other children wish it, I will be willing to take them in as well.” Stiano’s automaton vessel said.

I stared at him for a while. Then I let out a long sigh.

“He has gone too far, Musician. Roselle has already been corrupted.” Stiano said, almost kind. “I would spare His children the same.”

“…And you would demand faith from them.” I murmured.

“Faith is not a chain as you think it. Merely a guide.” The eyes on Stiano’s vessel went dim, marking the end to our conversation.

Bernadette was already an adult, a woman well on her way to charting out her own path when I found her.

“Godfather.” Bernadette dipped her head at me.

“Hello Bernadette.” Just a few years ago, she had been a young woman furious at Roselle, asking me for my help to cast aside her ties to her father.

“Is there something I can do for you, godfather?” Bernadette asked me.

“Your mother wanted me to send you a message.” I held a letter out to her.

“Mother could have just sent a messenger.” Bernadette grumbled as she tore the letter open.

I laughed when I said, “I am the messenger.”

“I don’t want to trouble you…”

“I held you when you were an infant.” I told her. “It’s hardly any trouble.”

Bernadette fell silent as she read the letter. “I will have to move to another land,” she said faintly.

“Taking the first step to leave is always hard.” I agreed. “Tell me where you want to go. Or if you like, you could walk with me for a time.”

Bernadette shook her head. “No. I can hold my own now. I’ll head off to the nearest port city once I’ve made my arrangements.” She paused. “How are my brothers?”

“Bornova has the Artisan’s grace. I haven’t yet visited Ciel.” Of his children, Ciel was the most like Roselle in temperament. The last I heard of him, he had been sleeping in the beds of the upper echelons of high society.

I knocked on a door.

“Go away! I’m busy!” Ciel shouted.

I knocked again.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said fuck off!”

I thought for a moment whether this unruly godson of mine ought to be disciplined since his parents clearly weren’t up to the task – Matilda was too permissive and Roselle too distant.

I kicked the door down.

Ciel screamed. As did a woman huddled in his bed.

His eyes went wide, then he got very, very pale. “G-Godmother!” He squeaked.

I kindly averted my gaze while the woman dressed herself and hurried away, out of the newly-replaced door.

Ciel sat on the bed timidly, eyes lowered to the ground.

I relayed to him Matilda’s message.

He lifted his head so fast I thought I heard a ‘crack’. “No way! Father would never fall! He’s the strongest!”

I did not provide a response. Ciel dug his nails into his palms. He made to say something, but looked at me and fell silent. “The path Roselle has chosen is a dead end.” I finally said when the silence dragged on.

Ciel shook his head. “But… Then, what will happen to me?” He asked pathetically.

Asking a Sequence 8 to keep up with a band of angels was stretching it. Even if we took it slow, as we had done for Abraxas back then – even then, he had been a Sequence 5 Traveler.

“I can bring you to the Church of Steam. The Artisan would welcome you, as would your brother. I can take you to your sister. Or I can take you to another land to start a new life.”

Ciel looked around, face full of unwillingness. I followed his gaze. The beautiful and expensive furnishings, the bottles of the finest wines scattered over the table. “What if I stay here? You’ll protect me, right, godmother?” He asked hopefully.

“I remember your existence once every few years.” I told him dryly. “Unless you would like to remain by my side where I can be reminded?”

Ciel blanched. He quickly shook his head.

After a moment, he said, “I’ll go to another land. Can I bring anything with me?”

I decided to be kind. “I will ask Abraxas to assist. Take whatever you can bring with you in one sitting. Pray to me when you are ready.” I turned to leave, but paused to look over my shoulder. “And Ciel?”

“Yes?”

“The purpose of taking you away is to ensure your safety. When you are situated, do refrain from doing anything to draw excessive attention.”

Ciel nodded quickly. “I know, godmother.”

Chapter Text

“Roselle will soon be deposed.” Hermes said slow and unhurried.

“Are you going to do anything?” I asked him. “He’s your student, isn’t he?”

“A student who refused to heed my words and advice, stubbornly heading to the moon that entrapped even Bethel Abraham.” Hermes said. We stood in the distance, watching the palace. “A king that does not hear the words of his people is nothing but a tyrant.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. “I want to talk to him.”

Hermes looked at me. He dipped his head. “Do as you wish.”

“You’re here.”

“…yes.” I said softly.

“Heh. I heard that you got my children away. You think I’m about to die, don’t you?” Roselle’s smile was sharp and twisted.

I looked at him silently. Even after all this time, I still didn’t know how to say goodbye.

The smile softened into something gentler. “Thank you.”

“You made me their godparent. This is just a part of my responsibility.”

“Back then, why didn’t you tell me the truth of the world?”

“How could I?” I asked quietly. “Sometimes, it feels too much for me too. I survived, but I lost everything. My brother has gone mad, everything else is…” I turned my eyes away. “I’m tired. It’s been ten thousand years… maybe more than that.”

Roselle laughed. The sound slowly grew more hysterical by the second, then stopped just as quickly as it started. “Take care of my children. Especially Bernadette.”

I clicked my tongue. “It’s not nice to play favourites amongst your children.”

I turned and started to walk away.

“Wait. Senior Vati.” I paused.

Roselle uttered something quietly.

I resumed walking and left, leaving him alone atop his lofty throne.

“Did you have a nice talk?” Hermes asked me.

“No. Not really.” My fingers twitched with the urge to play something. “How has my brother been?”

Hermes glanced at me, surprised. Understandably so. I hadn’t asked after my brother since the fourth epoch. “The True Creator has an evil cult known as the Aurora Order.”

“…you’re still in contact with Adam, aren’t you? What does that boy think of what’s left of his father?”

“What did Roselle say to you?” He asked, then answered me without waiting for a reply. “He disdains the True Creator, upholding that the Original Creator will one day awaken.”

I let that sink in for a moment. It would be obvious to anyone that the True Creator was the remnant of my brother. It was part of why the gods of the present targeted him.

Adam should know that as well.

“Where has my brother been? I intend to pay him a visit.”

“Vati?” Hermes glanced at me.

I closed my eyes, allowing my thoughts to rise to the surface.

Roselle’s last words. “I get the feeling that Adam is also like us.”

The people who stemmed from the distant past had a unique culture and outlook on the world.

Hermes, with his peek into my past and thousands of years by my side, knew much about me, but he couldn’t understand why I constantly ribbed Roselle about his works and naming sense nor the strange tangents or phrases we would use, even if he understood the larger context.

Amanises was much more subtle, making use of the term ‘archangels’ and advocating for gender equality — though anyone with enough knowledge would grow suspicious.

My brother… was a fool who decided that if he were to be a god, he would be God.

I wondered exactly what Adam had shown in front of Roselle to make him think that he was the same as us.

And more importantly… if it had been a deliberate act.

I stood in an inky-dark temple.

“My musician.” My brother uttered. “Come closer…”

I approached the figure on the cross. Facing my brother, I stared at him for a long time, then closed my eyes.

“Brother.” I laid a hand on his cheek. “Back then, how many bodies did you split yourself into?”

Incomprehensible ravings filled with madness, hatred and despair. “They… those traitors!” My brother screamed.

Slowly, I sat down, watching him as he lost his mind.

I pulled out a guitar and started to play a song from the past.

I didn’t know how much time passed until the mad rambling faded.

“My brother. Why do you wish to know? So you can betray me like everyone else?”

I worked my jaw, trying not to let the accusation sting.

“Adam.” I said.

Back then, me and my brother hadn’t made the effort to hide that we knew something everyone else didn’t. But we never advertised it either.

All anyone knew was that the both of us were older than we seemed, and that we came from the same ‘homeland’.

Amon never quite dared to misbehave too much in front of my brother but he lacked the same caution before me, consistently needling at me and attempting to steal my thoughts.

And Adam was content with following me or my brother around or sitting quietly in a corner reading.

I wasn’t as close to them as an uncle should be, but we hadn’t been distant either.

I hadn’t seen either of them since my brother fell from grace.

My brother fell silent.

Somehow, that was harder to withstand than the previous ravings.

Then, thousands of years after it happened, he told me a long-kept secret.

It didn’t change anything, in the end.

Hermes looked at me, and in my silence, seemed to realise something.

His usually placid expression fell slightly.

He had been close to Adam before the change. They crafted the ancient language named after Hermes together, and adapted it for the common people.

I would keep the secret to myself for my brother’s sake.

And Hermes— would keep silent as well for the sake of the Adam he knew and for me.

“Don’t lose control, Vati.” Hermes said.

I laughed bitterly. “That should be my line, old man.”

I looked at the way his face betrayed none of his grief and felt something claw at my chest. I closed my eyes, then opened them again. “I’m feeling a little spiteful. As long as it doesn’t cross a line, it’s normal to bother your siblings, don’t you agree?”

Hermes’ lips curled up into a slight smile. “Yes.”

Chapter Text

Perhaps sensing my bitterness, perhaps because I would never cross that line and do to him what his angels had once did, my brother never retaliated whenever I disrupted the plans of his out-of-control cult.

On the occasions when I caused too much trouble for him, Ouroboros would appear and offer me a gentle word serving as a warning.

The gods took my change of heart with a silent approval.

“They believe that you have broken off ties with the True Creator.” Hermes said quietly.

“Funny. I’m finally facing my past.” I returned just as quiet.

Those on the Paragon pathway have perfect recall.

It was harder to remember, when one had over ten thousand years of memories to scour through. The little details I had noticed but never paid much attention to, the faces I had forgotten, all of it came back in full force once I finally decided to sit down and do a proper recall.

My family. My younger brother. The way I had looked in the mirror, with my hair dyed and piercings through my ears and nose and lip.

How the buildings crumbled with just a sweep of an inhuman hand. The glance that had caused me to briefly lose my mind – had caused those with a full view to die outright.

Those I had met at the beginning when the world first fell apart.

I couldn’t remember the emotions any longer – ten thousand years of living had whittled that out of me.

But when I remembered – how I played a song together with a stranger, sitting at a campfire, my brother curled into my side; how she taught me a song from another language, showing me how to play a flute and how I taught her how to play the guitar – I imagined it felt a lot like a slowly growing hope.

The apocalypse was fraught with tension and betrayal, heartbreak and loss, but it hadn’t been all doom and gloom.

The people who chose to sacrifice themselves to save others, ungrateful as the survivors might be.

The father who somehow defied all odds and killed a monster to save his daughter.

The times when a group of people, scorned as foolish for carrying around an instrument in a time when there was little practical use for them – united around a fire and shared our songs, culture and history.

(I could still remember the hints of admiration I felt for the person with a perfectly-preserved Stradivari)

It was ironic in a way, how much more I learnt about music during the apocalypse rather than before it.

The moments when we discovered a can, a bite from the past and shared it amongst ourselves because there was still enough food left – too much, more than anyone expected from the apocalypse, with so many people dead and gone, and some who no longer needed to eat.

When I grew stronger, strong enough to lead a group of people to settle in a land I carved out for us, strong enough to cast a light into the sky – not yet a sun, not yet losing my sanity and myself, I would play music to the children while my brother directed the others to build shelters, gardens, reservoirs – creating a city that would later be my temple.

Even now, amidst cruelty and apathy – there was still kindness left in the world.

When I stepped foot into Loen, the skies darkened and I fell into a brief vision of the stormy seas, ozone sharp in the air.

Leodero stood before me, arms crossed. “How long will you stay on your own side, Musician?” He scoffed. “The end times are coming. You would do well to pick a winning side.”

I didn’t have an answer for him.

The end times…

How much longer until I lost everything again…?

I favoured none of the existing gods, even if I was partial to Evernight and the Artisan.

My brother was—I couldn’t stand being in his presence for too long, just as he only ever grew all the more frustrated with me. He was once my strongest anchor, and I still clung onto the bond we once shared, as I hoped that he still felt for me.

There was a new play in a local city, held to commemorate the hero of the Alfafa Tragedy. It was advertised in a newspaper, a tiny column that most people would barely glance over.

“Shall we go?” I asked Hermes.

He looked in the direction of the city. “If you wish. The forces of fate are gathering in Tingen.”

Fate…

The last people to have spoken to me of fate were—

“It’s alright.” I said. “Let it come as it comes. If I want to see a play, whether it’s the will of fate or just coincidence, I will see a play.”

Hermes hummed. “You can be stubborn in the oddest of ways, Vati.”

The Abraham family had outposts everywhere, with their members providing instantaneous travel services for the churches and other Beyonders out there. If it happened to closely mimic postal services or travel agencies, well, perhaps I had described such a thing to Abraxas once upon a time.

Though of course, no one advertised it - a tacit agreement between the churches and the Abraham family.

I didn’t need a Traveller to travel between large distances, but it was nice to check in on how Abraxas’ family was doing from time to time. And travelling with someone of my level would assist in their potion digestion.

“Hello there.” I said to the Traveller.

It was a new person sitting at the desk today, a woman who was accompanying an old man who looked much more familiar.

“Your excellency!” The old man said, bowing his head.

I tilted my head, trying to place the name and the face. “Mr Lawrence?”

“Please, there is no need to offer me such formalities, your excellency.” Lawrence said.

“We’re family friends, are we not?” I asked with some amusement.

“You honour us.” Mr Lawrence said. “Allow me to introduce you to my apprentice, Fors Walls.”

I turned to the young woman. Fors Walls…

“The novelist?” I asked.

Fors squeaked and straightened. “Y-Yes!”

“I enjoyed your latest book. It’s nice to see some originality in the arts.” After all, unlike Roselle who had plagiarised almost everything — a point of contention between us back when he had still been alive — the work of real artists were something I still valued greatly.

“Thank… you?” Fors looked uncertain.

I gave her a nod. “To Tingen, please.” I placed my hand on Lawrence’s arm. Hermes appeared and did the same.

Fors stiffened at his abrupt appearance.

“Really Hermes, don’t you ever get tired of teasing children?” I asked him.

Hermes offered me a genial smile and said nothing.

The familiar feeling of Travelling washed over me. I reigned my spirituality in to reduce unnecessary strain on Lawrence.

He was still left a little dazed and visibly fatigued when we reached Tingen.

Feeling a little sorry, I placed a brooch in Lawrence’s hand. “Here, this will help you recover faster. Just leave it in the sun when the gem dims.”

Lawrence bowed to me and Hermes, not refusing the gift. “Thank you for your grace, your excellencies.”

The play was good, given how quickly it had been put into production.

I clapped along with the rest of the audience, but paused when the main lead stepped on stage to take a bow.

“Hermes?” I asked quietly.

“…Instigator.” He replied just as quiet.

All of a sudden, the play lost its shine, feeling more like a terrible mockery.

I frowned.

The man on stage froze, eyes widening and frame trembling.

“Vati. Compose yourself.” Hermes casted a silent Placation.

I closed my eyes and drew myself back.

“No matter what, there are some things you should never cast aside in the pursuit of power.” I said firmly. “I’ve made that mistake once before. Never again.”

I stood up and left the theatre.

I intended to leave.

I was going to leave.

But all of a sudden, I felt a wave of frustration.

“I’m being manipulated, aren’t I?” I asked Hermes irritably. I had spent too much time around those of the Author pathway to not know when I was being guided into certain actions.

Noticing that the main character of a play was a Demoness? Sure.

Storming out of a theatre in a huff? Probable if I were to happen to be in a bad mood.

Leaving the city entirely without even bothering to take in the sights? Only if urgency dictated.

Hermes met my eyes and said nothing.

Purely out of spite, I decided to stay.

Then, feeling even more spiteful, I decided to take up lodging at the central church of Evernight.

Hermes looked at the choices I was making and gave me a suitably judgemental look. “Do tell me when you are done throwing a tantrum.” He told me and left.

I was teaching one of the clergymen how to play a flute when I sensed a familiar presence.

“Miss? Is something the matter?” The man I was talking to asked.

I shoved the flute into his hands and dissolved into fog, heading towards the source of the presence.

I reformed in front of a small building.

There was a pregnant woman sitting on the couch.

“My baby…” she was laughing, but I could sense my brother’s touch over her.

“Hello, miss.” I walked up to her from behind and placed my hands on her shoulders. It would be nothing more than a familiar gesture between friends… if I knew the woman at all.

The woman fell silent, staring up at me. My brother’s presence flickered. The bump in the woman’s womb visibly squirmed then went still.

The two young men that had been talking to her tensed even more.

“I believe I know the father of the child you are carrying.” I said. “May I see it for a moment?”

“Ah… ah…! No, no, no! This is mine! My child! Mine!” The woman screamed, clawing ineffectually at my hands.

I lowered my hands to her womb and pressed down lightly.

“From the mother’s womb did Apollon pull out his son.” Flesh parted before me. I dipped my hands into her womb and pulled out a small babe. Flesh knitted back together the moment the baby was freed.

It whimpered, then parted its lips and let out a piercing wail.

I shifted my grip to cradle it in my arms and pressed a finger gently against its lips.

“Hush.” I cooed. “If you cause a fuss here, many people will lose their lives. And I will be very upset with you, do you understand, nephew of mine? Life is an irrevocably precious thing.”

The baby fell silent, then uttered a soft cry.

I hummed an old song from a long time past, rocking the baby gently.

I looked back at the mother. She looked dazed, but still alive despite being corrupted from carrying my brother’s flesh vessel.

“I apologise for the trouble.” I bowed to the two young men. “I will take care of this one. Please tell Evernight that the Musician sends their regards.”

Hermes closed his eyes. “Vati.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a nephew to look after.” I said, rocking the baby back and forth.

“Vati, that is a baby.”

“I know.” I cooed as the baby tried to gnaw off my finger. “Isn’t he so much cuter than Adam and Amon?”

The baby wailed.

“What would be a good name, do you think?” I patted the baby’s head. “Or perhaps I should ask my brother?”

Though if he decided to call his own child-vessel Jesus, I was overriding him, naming rights be damned.

I held Noah in my arms, humming as I walked.

The baby was starting to gain more awareness beyond the instinctual craving for flesh and blood.

Hermes disliked Noah, whether on an instinctual level or because he was the vessel of my brother remained to be seen.

He didn’t show it of course, but after thousands of years walking alongside each other, I had grown to know him well.

A door of stars shimmered and opened in front of me. Abraxas stepped out.

“You’re way too generous, Vati.” Abraxas said, holding a brooch with a topaz gemstone. “My family didn’t dare to keep it in case it gets stolen by a Church again.”

He made to toss it at me, but paused.

“Vati? Why do you have a child?” Abraxas asked, looking at Noah warily.

“This is my nephew. Say hello to Uncle Abraxas, Noah.” I tapped the baby’s nose.

He wrinkled his nose and let loose a piercing wail.

Abraxas grimaced and took a few steps back. “What is that?”

“My nephew.” I repeated. “Isn’t he cute?”

Abraxas looked at Hermes. “Did Vati get corrupted when we weren’t looking?”

How rude.

Chapter Text

Noah stabilised with time. What surprised me was that he was only on the level of a Sequence 4. I had thought that a vessel meant for my brother would be at least Sequence 2 or above.

“A natural mythical creature.” Hermes said.

I bounced Noah in my arms, drawing a dissatisfied gurgle. “How do we teach a mythical creature how to empathise with people?”

“…do you still see humans as your equal?” Hermes asked after a long moment.

“I’ve never stopped being human. I’m just… a little stronger and longer lived than anyone else.” I looked down at the baby in my arms. “I don’t want him to turn out like Adam or Amon.”

Hermes fell silent. “You know what happened to Roselle’s son.”

Roselle…

Thinking of him brought back a sense of frustration. A foolish, arrogant, plagiarizing bastard.

But I could understand why he chose the path he did. People would do anything in desperate situations.

“The apocalypse is coming again.”

Hermes nodded after a long pause. “1368.”

A few years left. It felt like far too little time. I had spent most of my time doing nothing, drifting in and out of the sight of the gods.

Was there anything I could do?

Leodero told me to make a choice.

A choice…

A choice.

Who would be the next Great Old Ones?

I had faith in Amanises’ ability to become the Eternal Darkness.

Bethel Abraham was too heavily corrupted, Amon did not have a suitable enough disposition to handle the upcoming apocalypse. Antigonus was half-mad and under Amanises’ thumb.

God Almighty was a position I had come close to a very long time ago. I had seen an even stronger contender for that position when my brother awoke from the Chaos Sea. And now many gods eyed that position.

A fight between the gods was not one I had the ability to intervene in.

But amongst them all, there was one I could assist.

A door of stars opened. “Vati, Hermes, you called?” Abraxas poked his head out.

I found myself smiling as I always did whenever I got to see Abraxas again. “Can you take us to the Artisan’s church?”

Abraxas nodded and opened a door to the front of the main church of Steam and Machinery within Intis.

I strolled through it, Noah in my arms, and reclined on one of the empty benches.

A gaze settled on me.

“Stiano! How do you feel about shattering the Hidden Sage?” I called out.

The people around me didn’t react. The world warped around me. “What do you have in mind, Musician? I will not be able to accommodate the extra characteristics yet.”

He was still slowly digesting his Sequence 1 characteristics — he saw the chance for his apotheosis ritual back in the turn of the era and he took it.

Sequence 0 Paragon.

To reach the heights of perfection.

The knowledge I had, just from living in the era back then, far eclipsed his. The Archives and what Roselle had put down contributed a lot, but they were all limited and incapable of encompassing the entirety of the Age of Technology.

“Travel with me again. If you can bear with humbling yourself, I will share what I can with you.” I told him.

“I will consider it.” Stiano paused. “Why do you have an infant?”

Stiano’s vessel was well-crafted, a perfect homunculus straight out from a story.

I pinched the false flesh just to see if I could. It gave under my touch just like skin. But beneath that was something harder, a frame of metal.

Stiano stared at me blankly.

Hermes just looked bemused.

We ran into a problem immediately – finding out where the Hidden Sage was.

Even though I possessed some abilities from the Hermit pathway, or perhaps because of it, the Hidden Sage evaded my detection.

“Mirror mirror on the wall, where fares the one I seek?” The mirror shuddered, showing a brief glimpse of water before it shattered entirely.

The sea?

The sudden sound startled Noah and he started to cry.

“My church possesses a similar artifact.” Stiano informed me while I frantically tried to hush my nephew. “Located in Backlund.”

Backlund, hm?

“We just came from there.” I grumbled and called for Abraxas again.

Abraxas appeared. He seemed to want to say something, but thought better of it and kept his mouth shut, opening a door instead.

Instead of immediately heading off, he accompanied us. “Vati? Is something happening?” He whispered to me.

“It’s no big deal. You can go back if you like.” I assured him.

Abraxas hesitated, then shook his head. “If you’re doing something big, I’ll go with you.”

Ah, what a reliable child he’d become.

Stiano led the way to his church, entering the vaults. We were ignored by everyone around us. He picked up a mirror and handed it over to me. “Sealed artifact 2-111.”

I looked at the silver mirror. “Mirror mirror on the wall, where fares the one I seek?”

The mirror shuddered. Instead of an image, blood red words appeared on its surface. ‘Avalon.’

…Huh?

Avalon?

Before I could pry further, the words on the mirror changed. ‘Based on the principle of reciprocity, you must now answer a question. Who did you like most in bed?’

I stared down at the words, a little stunned. Was this the drawback of the artifact?

I thought for a moment. “Lilith.”

Silence.

Stiano slowly closed his mouth, visibly swallowing down his words.

Hermes looked at me. “Not Gregrace?” He asked me delicately.

“When both parties are insane it doesn’t make for a very… fun time.” I said awkwardly.

“Vati? Didn’t Lilith die thousands of years ago?” Abraxas asked me.

I shrugged. “None of us were divine back then.”

“I would like to hear more about your past sometime, Musician.” Stiano told me. The automaton’s hand grabbed onto the mirror. The words on the mirror trembled and faded into obscurity.

“Where is Avalon?” He asked the mirror.

The mirror seemed to shudder. ‘In the North Sea.’

After a long pause, the words shifted. ‘Did that answer your question, honoured one?’

“Yes.” Stiano replied. He placed the mirror back in its spot.

They had a location now, but…

The North Sea was close to Feysac. Even if the giants no longer remembered me, I still remembered them. And the seas were Leodero’s domain.

“You know what Avalon is.” Stiano stated.

“It should be a mystical re-enactment. Avalon is the home of spirits and fairies, and an island of magic and mirage.” I recalled the legend. “It’s where the Holy Grail sits, and where the once and future king rests in slumber.”

“I have no idea what that means, Vati.” Abraxas told me.

“You mentioned the Holy Grail before. An artifact with the Miracle Invoker characteristics.” Stiano said.

“It’s Arthurian mythology.” It’d been a long time since I regaled anyone with stories of the past. When had I stopped?

My younger brother talking to me about history and myths in those peaceful days while I half-heartedly listened. The tales he traded with others, asking about their cultures and writing them all down. Most of his notes did not survive.

I took a deep breath and started talking.

“By God—” “God Almighty.”

“Can dragons reincarnate as existing humans? Are those virtual personas?” “Maybe. It’s fantasy. Who knows?”

“There were creatures such as fairies? What’s the distinction between them and spirits?” “Uh… Anyway! Where did I stop?”

“The concept of chivalry is—” “For fuck’s sake Stiano, can you wait until I finish the story?”

It felt a lot like two thousand years ago, when Stiano was travelling with us still. He still had the annoying habit of interjecting every few seconds with a question of his own.

“Musician.” Stiano said so stiffly that I wondered if something went wrong with his vessel.

“What?”

“You’re different from how you were at the start of the fourth epoch. Have you been corrupted by your anchors?”

I blinked. “The Wandering Musician is a fairy tale for children. Of course I’ll be a little childlike.”

“The corruption is more akin to Vati’s state in His prime. It doesn’t change much.” Hermes said blandly.

“Are you calling me childish, Hermes?” I turned to him.

Hermes offered me a faint smile in response.

Midway through discussing how we would get around to the Northern Sea without drawing too much attention, I received a prayer from someone who I hadn’t heard from for more than a decade.

Bernadette.

I shoved Noah into Stiano’s arms. “Help me take care of him for a bit.”

Then I grabbed Hermes and Abraxas and left.

“Godfa— Godmother.” Bernadette corrected herself. “Your excellencies.” She dipped her head to Hermes and Abraxas.

“Did something happen?” I asked her.

Bernadette deliberated for a few seconds, then asked, “did my father have other mysterious acquaintances?”

I pointed at myself and at Hermes.

A frown appeared on her face. “Godmother,” Bernadette said plaintively.

I laughed a little.

“Aside from Zaratul and— ahem, none that come to mind.”

“What about a mysterious being known as the Fool?”

“Antigonus?” Abraxas asked disbelievingly. “He’s still half-mad.”

Bernadette pursed her lips, then slowly recounted her chance meeting with a strange being.

A thought flashed through my mind. Another person from the Old Era.

“Musician, is this your new way of inducing humanity?” Stiano asked me with some irritation.

The corner of Hermes’ lips raised slightly. Abraxas covered his face and took a few steps away, shoulders visibly shaking.

I coughed sheepishly and apologised, taking Noah back from the automaton.

Noah showed absolutely no sign of remorse as he continued screaming his little heart out.

“There, there, stop crying.” I soothed him to no avail. I transitioned into singing a lullaby. Usually, it would be enough to pacify Noah. This time, it only made him cry harder.

I looked at Hermes for help.

“He is distressed.” Hermes informed me.

I already knew that. “Why?”

“Infants don’t have thoughts comprehensive enough for me to tell.”

“Abraxas?”

“My cousins only ever let me hold my nieces and nephews for a few minutes.”

“…Stiano?” I asked the automaton. “You have kids, right?”

“I was not the one who took care of them.” He said delicately.

Deadbeat father?

My expression must have shown my thoughts. He looked away from me.

I looked at the infant in my arms. He was still wailing.

“I can’t believe that between three angels and a deity no one knows how to take care of a baby.” I sighed, holding a milk bottle to Noah’s mouth. A young mother I approached for help had kindly offered suggestions. He sipped on the bottle, gurgling happily. I didn’t know that demigods had to eat, but then again, Noah was still an infant.

Stiano’s automaton vessel lacked the facial muscles or even the right gears to make an expression but I got the feeling that this newly discovered gap in his knowledge frustrated him.

“Musician. In your time, what advancements were there to look after infants?”

I thought for a few moments. “We had phones.”

Stiano glanced at a nearby phone booth. I shook my head.

“Phones. Touchscreens. A computer reduced to the size of a hand. It could be used to set alarms, reminders. Call someone on the other side of the world. Connect remotely to cameras over a great distance.” I fell silent, nostalgic and missing all the little conveniences. Stiano had tried his best despite missing so much context and technology that no longer existed but it wasn’t enough. It might never be.

I swept my hair to a side. “I used to dye my hair. I had piercings too.” I touched the shell of my ear, then my lower lip. My hand drifted down to my belly.

The holes had long since closed. It was too dangerous then, to leave them in and risk parts of my flesh getting ripped out.

I could change myself, but it didn’t hold the same meaning anymore.

“My parents…” I started, then stopped. A faint sadness welled up within me.

I could feel the familiar sense of a Placation cast on me.

I changed the topic. “I’m thinking of taking the long way around.” I drew a line from Loen, around the Sonia Seas, then up to the North Sea. “No one would think too much about a wanderer like me deciding to explore the seas.” I paused. “Well, Leo—Storm would probably nag at me a bunch.” I sighed. “Do you have a way to hide yourself, Stiano? It’d be troublesome if the Hidden Sage senses you and runs away.”

“This vessel is a mystical item. When not inhabited by my consciousness, it serves as an automated offensive system.”

Oh?

I looked at the automaton. It was the size of an adult man. Sure, I could carry it around, but that was way too troublesome.

“You’re a bit too bulky to lug around, Stiano.”

“Don’t you have your ways, Musician?” Stiano asked, pointedly looking at the pouch hanging by my side.

My hand rested against it. “You don’t mind me treating you like luggage then?”

“This is just a vessel, Musician.” Stiano said.

Well, since he said so…  

I stepped foot on a wooden deck. The sound of crashing waves echoed in my ears.

“Noah, that’s the ocean. Do you see? Isn’t it pretty?” I said to the baby in my arms.

Noah gurgled and grabbed at the air, as if trying to touch the ocean foam.

“Your namesake once built a boat to survive a great flood that covered the whole world.” I continued.

Noah tilted his head to look at me. “Bah?”

“A boat. A very grand boat. You could call it an ark.”

“You’ve never mentioned that tale before.” Hermes said.

“Once upon a time…” I started and began reciting the tale.

Chapter Text

Abraxas Abraham was the grandson of Bethel Abraham, a being who came close to being a true god. He was the violinist that learnt under the Wandering Musician and their troupe. He was the last that remained of his generation, and the Head of the Abraham family by virtue of being the only angel.

“It’s important to know who you are. The world is its people. You cannot be part of a world if you stand too far away from its inhabitants.” Vati told him some years back.

“Power heralds respect.” Hermes said, a silent disagreement. “That you have made it this far on your journey is a sign of ability. Do not allow sentimentality to cloud your judgement. If they do not respect you, they will blaspheme you.”

What both of them did not say was how power came with duty.

The Abraham family was a shadow of what it once was. They had stagnated, too many of their Beyonders dying to grandfather’s raving screams every full moon.

Abraxas made sure to keep track of those Sequence 4 and above, and left the demigods to govern over the rest.

It was inevitable, that some characteristics were lost over time, stolen away by a few ambitious thieves or murderers. Those, he made sure to avenge with a cold fury that reminded Beyonders of what it meant to cross the Abraham family.

And then there were the ones that were taken by opportunistic churches. None of them hunted down his members, holding too much respect for his connection to Vati and apprehensive of the retribution of an angel pushed too far, but if any of his members died or happened to get caught, their artifacts were swiftly ‘confiscated’.

Hermes aided when He could, but He made it clear that His benevolence was reserved for Abraxas alone.

Vati was much more generous, offering a treasury of artifacts as carelessly as only an ancient being that had been around since the beginning of time would. Abraxas never dared to take too much of what was offered – though he may always be a child in Vati’s eyes, he did not wish to always be in their debt.

“Sometimes I envy you, Vati.” Abraxas admitted.

Vati glanced at him. “Why so?” They took no offense; they never did.

“You make everything seem so easy.”

Vati was silent for a moment. Then they sighed. “Oh Abraxas,” they said softly, cupping his cheek with a gentle hand like he was still that young child chasing after a legend, “hope is never easy. You have to keep fighting for what you want anyways.”

Abraxas stood before the piano in the music room of the main Abraham manor.

The instruments were well cared for, though the lack of wear said a lot about how often his family members came in to make use of them – not at all.

He sat down and let his fingers fly across the keys. He had taught himself many instruments, learnt even more under Vati. The piano hadn’t been one of them; it was a far more recent invention, brought to life by the Church of Steam.

He was aware of a presence passing by the door and lingering there. Slowly, the door opened. A young woman, one of the Apprentices undertaken by his family, stuck her head in.

Abraxas did not pause in playing, though he offered her a nod of permission.

The woman looked hesitantly at him, then glanced over her shoulder. She slipped inside and quietly closed the door, sidling to a corner. She pulled out a notebook and started to write.

“What are you writing?” Abraxas asked.

“Huh?” The woman startled a little at being addressed. “I’m working on a murder mystery.”

Abraxas hummed. “I used to dabble in writing when I was younger. I mostly wrote journalistic pieces.”

The woman looked him over. “You still look quite young, sir.” She said, a hint of a smile crossing her lips.

Abraxas smiled. “I’m slightly older than I look.” He said, echoing a phrase Vati enjoyed using. “What brings you to the music room? Not many make use of it. Unfortunate, instruments were made to be played.” Abraxas’ fingertips brushed against the keys of the piano.

“I heard some music and felt some inspiration.” The woman said while scribbling down on her notebook. “And… can you keep a secret?”

“Of course.”

“I’m hiding from my teacher.” The woman admitted.

Abraxas laughed.

“Ah. I used to do the same, when my grandfather was in charge of my studies. Hiding in my cousin’s rooms to write. Some of them played along, but some others would sell me out the moment grandfather came looking for me.” He had been much younger then, not yet knowing of the sorrow that would come his way.

The woman’s eyes lit up. “Then! From one procrastinator to another…” She hinted.

“I will refrain from giving you away, though I won’t stop your teacher if they come looking.” Abraxas said, amused.

Was this what Vati had felt back then, when he chased after them as a low-sequence Beyonder? The innocence and mischievousness of youth paired with ignorance.

“That’s all I can ask for.” The woman nodded firmly.

“What is your name?”

“Fors Wall.”

“I’ve heard of you.” Abraxas said. “You’re a rather famous author.”

Fors laughed with a hint of embarrassment. “I wouldn’t call myself that famous yet…”

“My mentor read one of your books. They said that the inspiration taken from Roselle’s Moby Dick was a little heavy-handed but it was a good read. I still have the book in my room, but I haven’t read it yet.”

Fors flushed a little. “Um… Well, if you ever read it, do tell me what you think. Good reviews only!” She gave him a bashful smile.

“Of course.” Abraxas nodded.

The door opened. “Fors!”

Fors yelped.

Abraxas recognized the person who walked in as Lawrence, the descendant of one of his cousins. He stopped short at the sight of Abraxas. “Lord Abraxas!”

Fors looked between her teacher and Abraxas. Realization crossed her features. She paled and let out a high-pitched squeak.

“I read your book. My mentor is right, it is a rather enjoyable read. I quite liked the adventures and the relations formed between the protagonist and the rest of his crew. I thought that Fabian would get together with Dorothy, but the adventure he spent solely with his rival Damien completely recontextualized the relationship between them. It’s a shame that it was never said who he ended up dating, if at all.”

Fors stared at Abraxas, her jaw hanging open.

It took her a few seconds before she hurriedly averted her eyes and bowed her head. “L-Lord Abraham!”

“No need for such formalities. I don’t expect it of any within the family.” Abraxas dismissed. “And… what was it you said? From one procrastinator to another?”

“I’m so sorry!” Fors whimpered.

“What for? You committed no offense.” Abraxas said, smiling slightly.

Chapter Text

We hopped from boat to boat, island to island.

I sang and danced as I had done for the past thousands of years.

Noah giggled every time I twirled with him in my arms.

Amusingly enough, people seemed to think of me as Noah’s parent.

“Oh no, this is my nephew.” I said to a woman as I rocked Noah back and forth in my arms.

Noah cooed and reached a hand out to the woman. I jerked him back before he could show any strange behaviour. The last time I was careless, a man almost lost his entire hand and Hermes gave me a look the whole time he covered up the situation.

“Don’t do that, Noah.” I scolded him.

Noah lowered his hand unwillingly.

“Sorry, he likes grabbing things. It’s hard to make him let go.” I apologised to the woman and took a few steps away.

“I know the trouble myself.” The woman laughed, gesturing at the two children playing a little ways behind her.

Most of our journey went by without a hitch. There were a few times a pirate ship or two turned up on the horizon, but with Hermes present, it was easy to change their minds.

Noah started to babble more – nonsensical words that had more to do with linguistical development rather than curses.

Abraxas joined us on occasion. He looked increasingly frustrated with something.

“Did something happen?” I asked, concerned.

“Vati, what do you do when a favoured apprentice accidentally recites the name of an unknown existence?” He asked me.

“It depends on what that existence is… If it’s something on the level of an angel, you can just kill the angel and resolve the problem. If it’s a god, maybe give that apprentice something related to ‘Secrecy’.” I paused. “What’s this ‘unknown existence’?”

Abraxas hesitated for a moment, then uttered a familiar name. “The Fool.”

The Fool couldn’t be a god – Antigonus was a king of angels the last time I heard, and a fight of that calibre was something bound to make waves, not to mention the ensuing apotheosis ritual. The rise of a god was not a quiet thing.

My own rise had cast a long-awaited sun into the sky.

A King of Angels, at most.

What intrigued me the most, however, was the first line of his honorific name.

The Fool that does not belong to this era.

“Should I try it?” I asked Hermes.

“At your own risk.” Hermes told me with a quiet frown.

“I can take almost any angel.” I said dismissively.

“Perhaps when you’re elsewhere. The ocean is hardly an ideal place to conduct such experiments.” Hermes said. I considered his point and nodded in agreement.

We hopped around the islands some more, indulging in the local cuisine and talking to the travellers.

I met a few musicians, mostly playing sea shanties or raucous songs in bars.

I left Noah in Hermes’ care while I sang along with them.

It reminded me of the stories from long ago. Treasure Island. Pirates of the Caribbean.

“Piracy was romanticised for the freedom and adventure.” I recalled.

Hermes gave me a side-eye. “I do hope you don’t intend to take to petty thievery, Vati.”

I laughed at that. “I don’t know, I think I’d look pretty good in a captain’s hat, don’t you? I could join Bernadette and her crew.”

“At the risk of Storm’s displeasure?” Hermes raised a brow.

I considered that.

“Ba!” Noah said, drawing my attention.

“Hm? What’s wrong, Noah?” I asked.

“Badi.” Noah said, reaching out to pat my arm. His eyes squeezed shut and his nose wrinkled. I recognized the signs of an uncontrolled bout of ravings. I scooped him up and surrounded us in a vacuum. A long stream of curses burst from Noah’s mouth. His eyes bled and his teeth grew sharper. I waited until his appearance morphed back into an innocent little infant before I held him closer to me.

Noah grabbed my sleeve and cuddled close.

I boarded yet another ship, the crew turning a blind eye to my party and our lack of tickets.

If anyone asked – well, those of the Visionary pathway were incredibly talented with placing psychological cues not to do so.

“I went from advising kings to dodging ticket fares with you. You truly are one-of-a-kind, Vati.” Hermes told me.

I pretended not to notice the complaint, rocking Noah in my arms while overlooking the sloshing waves.

I felt a thread of inspiration.

With a thought, the nets hanging from the edge of the boat swept up and were re-woven into a cradle. I placed Noah inside.

I clapped my hands. Abraxas pulled out his violin from a door of stars. Hermes’ flute appeared in his hands.

I pulled out my guitar and started playing a melody.

Hermes followed along, the long years we’d travelled together letting him catch on to the motion without a spoken word.

In minutes, he had the rhythm down flat.

Then, I turned to Abraxas who had started to play with Hermes as the lead. I gave him a nod, then I strummed my guitar, warming up.

“Ready?” I asked out loud.

The rehearsal stopped and all instruments came to a rest.

I tapped my fingers against the guitar body, then started to play.

The familiar melody of Pirates of the Caribbean rang out.

The other passengers stared at us, somewhat bemused by the impromptu performance.

Then a couple of children laughed, bright and cheerful. I danced around them, reaching out a hand to twirl them around.

The children giggled. A few other passengers smiled as they watched us. I felt a stare on me, different from the rest in intent. I glanced over at the man with gold-rimmed glasses and danced over to him. I held a hand out to him.

“Will you join me, good sir?” I asked playfully.

The man stared at me then slowly shook his head. “I don’t dance.”

I took the rejection in stride and twirled away from him with a sway of my skirts.

“Isn’t the weather nice today?” I mused aloud. I turned to my companions expectantly.

Abraxas made to answer, but the appearance of his messenger interrupted whatever it was he was going to say. He read through the letter and got up.

“Something came up in the family. I need to go.” With that heads-up, Abraxas opened a door and left.

I turned to Hermes. He smiled at me. “I need to attend a meeting. Excuse me.” He then vanished, transferring his consciousness elsewhere.

…Like I didn’t know he could have multiple consciousness.

“Looks like it’s just the two of us, Noah.” I said to the infant.

Noah giggled and tugged on my sleeve.

Minutes later, the weather turned for the worse.

Nice weather, I had said. Me and my big mouth.

It reminded me of Medici and his need to annoy me by conjuring up rainclouds during my performances.

Shortly after, the captain announced that the ship would be docking at a place called Bansy Harbour.

Noah grew increasingly restless as the ship docked. He opened his mouth to wail. Then, as if sensing something, his mouth closed and he let out a soft, terrified whimper.

I stroked his head.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, I’m here.” I soothed him. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I stood on the deck, watching the passengers disembark, then retreated into the dining hall.

A blond man approached me. He glanced behind him, at a familiar black-haired man, then awkwardly cleared his throat. “Hey.”

I offered him a faint smile. “What is it?”

“Aren’t you going down too?”

I shook my head. “My nephew doesn’t want to go.” I stroked Noah’s head.

The man’s expression distorted slightly. “Your nephew doesn’t want to go?” He repeated dumbly.

“He’s a very smart child.” My smile widened a little, then faded. “There’s something dangerous down in the island.”

The man stared at me. He looked over his shoulder at the other man, then turned back to me. “Please?” He begged.

I laughed, amused. “Why come to me?” I asked him, resting my chin on a palm.

“Uh…” The man said.

I looked at the other man and crooked a finger at him. He stiffly walked over.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

The blond man straightened. “I’m Danitz. That’s Gehrman Sparrow.”

I blinked. “Gehrman Sparrow.” I repeated slowly. “Your nickname wouldn’t happen to be pirate hunter, would it?”

Gehrman’s eyes grew a little embarrassed even as his face remained stiff.

I burst into laughter. “Bloodborne, really? What a nerd.” I said in a tongue long lost to time. My laughter softened. “My brother loved playing it too.” I recalled absently, voice trailing off into wistful silence. “Why do you want me to go down to the island?” I asked him.

“It’s safer if you come with us.” Gehrman said frankly.

Safer?

“Do you like this lady or something?” Danitz whispered to Gehrman.

Gehrman glared at him and he stopped talking.

I supposed that having the protection of an angel would certainly make them safer. And I was willing enough to assist someone with ties to my distant past.

I stood up.

“Hermes.” I called out. “Can you help me look after Noah?”

Hermes appeared. He looked at me silently and a little dissatisfied, then reached out to take Noah.

Noah started to fuss. I tapped his forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.”

I turned back to the two men, both of them unable to register the interaction – Hermes’ influence.

I strapped my guitar to my back. “Shall we go?”

Chapter Text

I had a few personal rules that lasted me through two epochs.

First, do not interfere with the plans of gods.

Second, do not go out of your way to look for trouble.

Third, leave where you go a little better than it was before.

“What’s your story?” I asked Danitz as we walked down the gangway. “How did the both of you meet?”

Danitz immediately made a face. “That guy over there is a fucking lunatic!”

Gehrman said nothing in his own defense, merely giving Danitz a cold look. Danitz shivered and slowed down, putting me in between him and Gehrman.

I laughed a little at his reaction.

“You shouldn’t get involved with him,” Danitz whispered to me, “he’s the type of lunatic that will kill anyone for money!”

Is that so?

Someone who was cheeky enough to make a reference that no one else would know and got embarrassed when I pointed it out?

What a good actor.

The sky was dark, fog shrouding the island.

Gehrman walked ahead, lifting a lantern to light the way.

My fingers strummed a lazy tune on the guitar as we walked.

“You’re still in the mood to play music?” Danitz asked me.

“Part of what makes a horror movie is the BGM.” I told him.

“A horror what?”

Gehrman nodded once in agreement.

Danitz looked between the two of us, lost.

A shadow flickered at the edges of my vision.

I didn’t move, knowing well that— Gehrman pulled out a cane and smacked the shadow.

I glanced over as Danitz shot a fireball at another shadow. A walking corpse.

It felt a little surreal. I hadn’t encountered anything like this since the last divine war.

…I really ought to hurry up on Stiano’s commission.

I watched as Gehrman led the passengers away from the restaurant. Before the door could close, I blocked it with a hand.

“Can I get some food packed?” It’d been ages since I last had any East Asian cuisine.

“No.” The restaurant manager said flatly.

“Not even for an old friend of Medici?” At the mention of the name, the man’s eyes constricted. He looked at me silently for a second. “Allow me a few seconds, your excellency.” The man said.

A moment later, the man returned with a wooden box. He bowed to me and closed the door with an air of finality.

I slipped back into the group like I had always been there.

Gehrman glanced at me, but said nothing of my temporary absence.

“Are you afraid?” I leaned down to the girl and asked her.

She nodded, holding her little brother’s hand tightly.

“Then sing.” The guitar that had been strapped to my back was swung over to the front. I held it and strummed. I let the chords echo through the spooky atmosphere. “If you are afraid, if you can’t move anymore, then sing!”

I walked along, a little skip in my step.

“B-But… Won’t that attract the monsters?” The boy asked timidly.

“Normally it would. But this song is a protection charm, of sorts.”

I strummed my guitar again.

“When the shadows touch your heart, when everything seems too much; Sing, sing, sing!” It was undoubtedly a familiar song for them.

Slowly, the children started to sing along and I caught the adults humming along to the song that had long-since been popularized.

“Call out, to the wandering musicians! Let your voice reach the skies! And soon you’ll hear, the minstrels’ lament, of the days long since gone by.”

I launched into the chorus and prepared myself for the new onslaught of prayers.

“The ray of light that shines through the darkness; the musician that sings and dances through the night. Herald of the arts from a long-gone era, oh wandering musician, hear my cries.”

The song itself did nothing, but the people that sang it together – the arts could be powerful in such a way, giving people hope even in the darkest of nights.

Gehrman and Danitz looked like they were handling the fight.

I turned my gaze away and walked around slowly.

I ended up standing outside a building. I peered in through the window.

A busy street of asphalt and concrete greeted me. Billboards and neon lights flickered as a car rumbled along. A world of the past separated just by a wall.

I pressed my hand lightly against the door. The wood was cold. If I pushed the door open…

“Hey! What’re you doing?! We’re leaving already!” Danitz shouted at me.

I paused, then turned away. “…it’s nothing. I just thought I saw something familiar.”

The ship started to move, leaving the island – and the City of Calamity behind.

“Bloodborne, I got some food to go from the restaurant. I don’t know if you’ve ever had East Asian food but—” I opened the wooden box.

Instead of the spread of food I was expecting, a glimmering translucent crystal greeted me.

“…”

“…”

“What happened to my food…?” I uttered, disappointed. I poked at the characteristic. “I can’t eat this. Where’s my food?”

I sat on the deck, a little dispirited.

Hermes found me and said nothing about the characteristic I was tossing around like a tennis ball.

I stretched out my arms and accepted Noah back.

Noah immediately clung to my sleeve.

“Did you have fun with your new friends?” The slight curl of his lips showed Hermes’ feelings well enough.

I hugged Noah to me. “Badi?” He patted my cheek.

“Don’t worry about it, Noah.”

It came as a shock when my brother returned one day with a blank-faced child in his arms.

“This is Adam.” He shoved the child into my arms. “You can think of Him as my son.”

There was something about his phrasing…

Adam tilted his head to look up at me. “Hello.” He said with a calm no normal child should possess.

I instinctively tightened my grasp of the young boy, pressing him closer to my chest.

“He doesn’t need much attention. You can treat Him as your nephew to help maintain your humanity.” My brother told me briskly then left to do other things.

I looked down at Adam. Adam blinked at me with his bright blue eyes. “Uncle.” He said after a moment.

I went to bother my peer from a time long past, as I had frequently done to Roselle before the both of us grew sick of each other’s presences.

“Hey Bloodborne, do you play any instruments?” I asked Gehrman.

He hesitated, then said, “the recorder.”

A recorder? Now that brought back memories.

I flicked my fingers and a block of wood appeared in my hands. I wielded a carving knife in a hand and started to carve the wooden block.

In just a few minutes, I had a shape of a recorder. I tapped the carving and the edges smoothed out.

“Do you prefer sun or rain?” I asked him.

Gehrman stared at me, then said, “the sun.”

I pulled out an artifact. A glass orb that sparkled brightly under the sun’s rays.

I shattered it with a thought, letting the glass shards disintegrate into fine grains, leaving behind a translucent jelly-like object. I placed the characteristic against the recorder and infused it into the instrument.

I scanned the new artifact I had made.

Then I tossed it at Gehrman.

“There. When you play that in front of anyone, they’re bound to their words. It won’t work on anyone who’s Sequence 5 and above. Just be careful of any promises you make when you’re holding onto it.”

Gehrman looked at the recorder in his hands. “What’s the price?” He asked me.

“Consider it a meeting gift.” I said dismissively. “But if you really want to pay me back… sing me a song from your hometown.”

“Just a song?” His lips twitched.

“…it’s been a long time. And… there’s a lot I never got to experience.”

Gehrman acknowledged my words.

“Isn’t there anything you want to leave for the future?” My brother asked.

The man paused. Then slowly, he said, “the apocalypse is the penance for humanity’s sins.”

My brother frowned as he wrote it down.

I met a woman who carried around a long, wooden stringed instrument.

She called it a guzheng.

She played me a few songs and I returned the favour.

I met so many people from all around the world.

I had never truly thought about the impact of globalization until I was talking to people who came from halfway across the world, telling us their stories and sharing with us their histories.

In the span of a few days, we had lost all that.

“One day,” my brother, so bright and idealistic, said, cradling his notebook in his arms.

He was lucky — that my powers offered us light and warmth — we never needed to search for kindling to survive the cold nights.

Too many books had been lost to the flames.

“Haven’t you found a way to return home?”

Again, I was faced with such a question.

I looked past Gehrman, at the sea. It was rougher, filled with extraordinary creatures. But the water was still blue under the bright sky. Roselle once asked me a similar question. Back then, I hadn’t answered. Now, I couldn’t either.

Once upon a time, ‘home’ was the studio apartment I shared with my younger brother. Then, it was the village we built together, planting crops and building fences to defend against monsters. After, ‘home’ was my brother’s shining temple, beautiful and untouched yet by sorrow and betrayal.

“I don’t have a home anymore.” I said quietly.

I had no home to return to. No family waiting at the door to welcome me home – none save the band I had cobbled together from happenstance.

Chapter Text

Mutations and a lack of care had decimated many farmlands and gardens. The world that had plunged into freezing darkness killed many more.

We sustained ourselves on preserved food and mushrooms – capable of reproducing even in the cold and dark.

It was only when my abilities strengthened, enough to produce light and warmth that we considered expanding our diet.

And so, we headed up north – to the largest seed bank in the world.

We weren’t the only ones with the same idea. We encountered another group of people, who had their path blocked by monsters and wraiths, right outside the seed bank.

None of us wanted to clash with the others at risk of destroying our goal, and our abilities seemed different enough that it wasn’t worth trying to kill each other.

Without a word, we agreed on cooperation.

The seed bank was still intact, but the power had long since gone out, killing many seeds.

Luckily, there were a few varieties that still survived.

“Dibs on spices.” I immediately set down my claim.

“You can just give it all to me, Paladin.” A beautiful woman stalked over and leaned close to me. “I can grow it all easily.”

I heard of her. Lilith, rumoured to be one of the most beautiful women in the world. Her abilities allowed her to grow plants, lush and fruitful even despite the lack of sun.

My brother rolled his eyes and ventured deeper into the storage areas, no doubt trying to catalogue the surviving seeds and their growing conditions.

“Sooo, about the distribution of seeds…” she placed a long finger under my chin and stroked up to my jaw, smiling beautifully all the while.

“I’m not…” I swallowed down my words when she pressed herself closer to me.

“Are you done?” My brother said, giving me a look of disgust.

“Wasn’t she pretty?” I sighed dreamily.

The look of disgust intensified. “This is why you’re never in charge of negotiations.” My brother clicked his tongue.

I met Lilith again when we started building our village.

She made the trip to exchange fruits, crops and seeds for knowledge my brother possessed.

“The closest thing you can build should be a water mill.” My brother said after flipping through his books and consulting her on her terrain. “Give me some time to draw up the blueprints.”

“Much appreciated, little brother.” Lilith cooed. My brother’s brow twitched and he slammed the door shut.

“I’m from Romania.” Lilith said.

“Land of vampires?”

“…That’s a stereotype. I really should be asking what sort of madman still carries around an instrument?”

“One who wants to serenade a pretty girl.” I lilted. I swung my guitar to the front and strummed a tune.

“Ma-ia-hii, ma-ia-huu. Ma-ia-hoo, ma-ia-haa.”

Lilith burst into laughter the moment I started singing.

I powered through. “Vrei sa pleci dar nu ma nu ma iei! Nu ma nu ma iei, nu ma nu ma nu ma iei! Chipul tau si dragostea din tei! Mi-amintesc de ochii tai!”

She doubled over, cackling.

The beauty of the world never failed to steal my breath away.

Despite all the pain and suffering, despite all the ugliness, there was always something bright to look forward to.

I hopped up onto the railing, sitting there and watched the sun start to rise, casting the horizon into hues of orange-red.

The sun…

“Hey Vati.” Abraxas stepped out of a door of stars.

I smiled. “You’re back. Is everything alright back home?”

Abraxas glanced away. “As well as it can be.” He paused. “Vati, I know that you’re not part of the Aurora Order, but if I killed a demigod from that faction, would you get into trouble?”

“Why would I? I’m not the one doing it.” I said.

Abraxas nodded slowly and joined me in watching the sunrise. “Hermes said that you’ve taken an interest in someone. Are you going to raise another angel?” He asked me after a moment.

I laughed slightly. “No. He has his own path and I have mine. Whether or not we’ll meet again, I’ll leave it up to fate.”

I pulled out a guitar. I thought for a moment, then a sharp smile crossed my face.

I played a tune that did not fit the sensibilities of this time.

Abraxas turned to stare at me. Hermes’ sigh was the only indication of his exasperation.

I strummed the strings of my guitar with a technique I hadn’t shown in thousands of years, not after the death of my brother.

Hard rock was a genre that not many people liked, at least not in my circle. I ended up playing ballads more.

Personally though?

I loved it.

It reminded me of spinning lights and music that thrummed in my ears in a gentler time long past.

My fingers picked up speed as I transitioned into a shred.

Noah wailed, pudgy hands rising to cover his ears.

I stopped and laughed as I patted his head. “There, there. You prefer lullabies don’t you?”

We alighted on Sonia Island.

The next boat to enter Feysac proper was in a day.

Abraxas found an inn for us.

I placed Noah on the bed and pulled out Stiano’s vessel, waiting for him to power on.

It was time to plot.

The mirror in the room flashed.

I turned, feeling a familiar presence.

“Medici?”

Hermes glanced at me and vanished.

Abraxas conscientiously teleported out the room.

“Thought I sensed someone familiar, old hag.” Medici said.

It had been an age since I last encountered Medici.

The last time though… “You died?” I asked.

Medici’s expression twisted slightly. “Tch. You don’t even know that?”

I shrugged lightly. “You know I don’t care to keep up with politics.” I said airily.

“Politics.” Medici repeated, sneering.

I took out the characteristic I had obtained from Bansy – Medici had likely come for this – and tossed it to him. “You owe me a meal.” I told him.

Two mouths opened up on his cheeks.

“Oh, it’s the Musician.”

“Musician, why don’t you suppress this guy for us?”

“He’s annoying, isn’t He?”

“Heh, you couldn’t beat me so you go running to the old lady?” Medici sneered. “What a bunch of losers.”

Pause.

The two mouths proceeded to curse him out.

The argument woke Noah who started crying.

Medici made a face. “When did you get a child?”

“This is my nephew, Noah.” I introduced. Ordinarily, I would send him elsewhere for safety, but this was Medici.

Medici’s expression softened, as expected. For all that he was fickle with his lovers, he was a pretty good father… if he bothered to remember that his children existed.

“Huh.” He reached out a finger and poked Noah on the cheek.

Noah wailed and bit the finger off with his blunt little milk teeth.

“Noah, spit that out. That’s not good for you.” I scolded the infant, trying to pry the finger out of his mouth.

Medici laughed. “The kid’s really the Lord’s! What, did He split off a part of Himself again?”

“No, he actually impregnated a woman this time.” I said, fishing the bony finger out from Noah’s mouth. I grimaced as I stared at the saliva-coated finger and flicked it away.

Medici raised a brow. He looked at Noah for a moment. “A ritual, huh. And you interfered.” His expression grew sour.

“You know I don’t like it when people die from outside interferences.” I said coolly, then more brightly, “and this way I get to look after another cute nephew!”

“Didn’t take you for the motherly type.”

“I’m not. No one I’m traveling with knows how to look after an infant either.” I admitted.

“That old man’s still with you?” Medici asked.

“I picked up a few more members too.”

“Ha! Which idiots would waste their time doing useless things with you—”

“Hello.” Stiano said, the automaton stashed in the corner finally powering on.

Medici froze for a split second then vanished, fleeing into the spirit world.

I watched him go with mixed feelings.

Stiano turned to me. “Did I interrupt something?”

I laughed and patted his shoulder. “You have the best timing ever.” I told him.

“Oi! Musician! Come join me!” Medici called out to me.

It was a surprise, seeing how my brother’s angels often offered me a greeting and nothing more.

I glanced at Sasrir. He gave me a nod and resumed walking along the garden path.

I pulled away from him and walked over to the pavilion where Medici was lounging.

“What is it, Medici?” I asked, sitting beside him.

Medici pulled the shoddy cigarette out of his mouth and breathed out a puff of smoke.

“You’re always around the Lord or Sasrir. As His angels shouldn’t we get to know each other better?” Medici grinned.

I hummed out an assent, snatching the cigarette from him.

Medici let it happen, still smiling even when I placed the cigarette to my lips. The smoke filled my mouth and my lungs. I breathed out a circle of smoke.

It had been a while.

My brother hated the smell of smoke so much that he tossed away the first and only cigarette pack I ever bought.

“Smoking kills you slowly, you know.” I said, flicking the cigarette back to Medici.

“Hah! If a lil’ bit of smoke is enough to kill me, everyone in this palace should’ve long since died!” Medici sneered.

I smiled and said, “I’ll inform brother of that then.”

Medici choked on his words.

Abraxas and Hermes returned like nothing had happened.

“Can you locate the Hidden Sage?” I asked Stiano.

“Not without alerting It.” Stiano replied.

I thought for a while. “The Holy Grail is a key to Avalon.” I recalled the myth. As long as I had something similar, I could re-enact the myth and open the way to Avalon.

“Do you possess a Miracle Invoker characteristic?”

“Not at all.”

The both of us looked at Abraxas.

He stiffened at our attention. “I don’t have one either!”

“Didn’t your brother give you many characteristics and artifacts?” Hermes asked me.

“He had one but—it was called the Last Banquet! That’s a red flag right there! I tossed it away and told him off for tempting fate!”

“The Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun possesses an artifact by that name.” Stiano said. “I will negotiate for that artifact.”

“How many days?”

“Three.” The automaton’s eyes dimmed.

I felt a presence.

I lifted my head just in time to see an angel emerge from the spirit world.

She lifted a hand, holding up a head biting onto a letter.

The letter dropped into my lap.

“One…” “Gold…” “Coin…” the heads said.

“I don’t have any coins.” I glanced at my open guitar case and fished out a bank note I gained from busking. “Unless this counts?”

The angel paused, then shook her head. “Never…” “Mind…”

I looked at the letter. It was from Gehrman, essentially boiled down to: ‘can you make an artifact for me if I provide you with a characteristic?’

I folded the letter and in the blank margins, I wrote down ‘yes’ and handed the letter back to the angel.

With the confrontation to the Hidden Sage drawing closer, I had a decision to make.

“Who’s going to look after Noah?” I asked my band.

“I really don’t want to draw the True Creator’s attention to my family.” Abraxas rejected me, looking a little sorry.

Hermes shook his head.

Noah grabbed my shirt. “No!” He shouted, likely understanding that he would be separated from me.

I cradled him gently. Asking Stiano to watch over Noah was out of the question – he had been upset over the implications back when he only had to look after Noah for a few hours.

And everyone else I knew who was capable of watching over a demigod did not want any association with the True Creator.

Really, this was all the fault of my brother and his horrible reputation.

I sighed and drew up a veil of secrecy.

“The Self-Devouring Snake of Mercury;

Spirit that Revolves this World;

The Grace of the True Creator;

The Eyes that Look at Fate;

The Great Prophet of Past, Present, and Future.”

It took a while for Ouroboros to appear in front of me.

He looked at me and Noah, then wordlessly stretched out his arms.

Noah wailed, clinging to me desperately.

“It’ll just be for a few weeks.” I comforted him.

“No!”

Pacifying Noah took a few hours and even when Ouroboros finally managed to take him, he was crying all the while. It made me feel a little guilty.

Stiano’s consciousness returned to his vessel three days later.

“Hold a ritual to my main body.” He told me.

I thought for a moment, then I threw a piece of paper, a quill and some leftover parts onto three corners of the table. I shoved a cold cup of tea to the last corner of the table and recited Stiano’s honorific name.

“Embodiment of Essence;

Guardian of Craftsmen;

Brilliance of Technology.”

Stiano looked at the offerings, but ultimately said nothing.

A framed painting appeared in the middle of the table. I immediately set it on fire before the painting could reflect any of us.

A few seconds later, a glowing, jelly-like substance was all that remained.

“Time to make a Holy Grail.” I clapped my hands.

The two best Artisans in the world were concentrated in a tiny inn room.

I moulded an ingot of gold into the shape of a goblet while Stiano worked on the characteristic, drawing out the traits of a pure Miracle Invoker.

“What gemstones would suit?” I asked him.

Stiano glanced over. “Emeralds.” He said after a moment. “I will perform the engraving.”

“Abraxas!” I called out.

Abraxas jolted from where he was dozing off on the bed. “Huh? What?”

“I need some emeralds!”

A portal opened above the table, dropping down a few emeralds.

I started to polish and carve out the gemstones, goblet set aside for Stiano to work on once he was done manhandling the characteristic.

Stiano’s head whirred over to a corner of the room, the movements of his hands hardly slowing despite the lack of attention. I sensed the presence in the spirit world barely a second later.

Gehrman’s angel messenger emerged.

The two of the four heads looked at Stiano then hurriedly averted their eyes to me, the other two holding a letter and a characteristic.

I took the letter, scanned through it, then flipped the paper over to the blank side and wrote, ‘Busy. Take this first.’

I glanced at the characteristic and tossed it into my pouch, carelessly taking out another artifact and handing it over to the messenger. She bit down on the artifact and the letter, then left.

Stiano glanced at me.

“A friend.” I said, resuming my work on the gemstones. I quickly finished up six emeralds and passed them to Stiano.

He chiselled at the goblet, carving out a beautiful pattern on the surface, then set the emeralds into the goblet. When the goblet was finished, he infused the characteristic into the goblet.

Just like that, we had ourselves a Holy Grail.

I stored away Stiano’s vessel and the Holy Grail, my merry band slowly but steadily making our way up towards Feysac.

During the voyage, I received another batch of letters.

‘I lost the artifact you gave me. You can have the characteristic I sent you earlier as compensation.’

There was a vague sense of embarrassment conveyed by letter.

‘How did you lose it?’

‘I got into a fight with the Mother Tree of Desire.’

What a scary answer from someone who wasn’t even a demigod yet.

‘P.S. The postage fee is one gold coin.’

In the empty space of the paper, I wrote, ‘No need for compensation. It’s fine as long as you’re safe. Have you noticed any signs of corruption on yourself? You should pray to a god to make sure you’re fine. I’ll work on your artifact when I find the time.’

Then, in a bout of mischief, I added.

‘P.S. I’m penniless, thanks for footing the postage.’

The reply I received had another request, asking me to make something that could skip the rituals and summon his messenger. The letter also kept hinting at one thing: ‘I’m penniless too!’

I laughed for a long time when I saw that.