Chapter 270: Death God

Chapter 270: Chapter 216: Death God

Richard opened his eyes.

The notebook on the desk was open to a blank page. A fountain pen lay beside it, its nib still wet.

He raised a hand to his chest.

The silver ring, hanging from a leather cord, was cool to the touch.

He sat up and glanced at the wall clock.

It had been ten-thirty at night before he entered the dreamscape. Now, it was a few minutes to midnight.

According to the rules of the Divine Pantheon Salon, the transaction itself only finalized the terms of the exchange.

The physical items were delivered separately by a Spirit Realm Messenger. He had to wait.

He didn’t dwell on the “High Tiers” or the invisible chessboard.

‘Knowing too much gets you noticed.’

‘No need to take any unnecessary risks.’

After lying in bed for a while, a stir came from the windowsill.

His inspiration, faster than his ears, caught the shift in Ether Density in a corner of the room.

Richard looked up.

A wisp of grayish-white mist seeped through the crack of the window, coalescing on the floor into a gray-robed figure with indistinct features.

It extended an arm with an empty sleeve and gently placed two items on the desk.

These were the items he had traded for from Aries and Nemesis, wrapped in two separate parcels.

The gray-robed figure took the Technique manuscript from his hand. Richard didn’t need to worry about it being copied into two duplicates.

After finishing its task, the Messenger gave a slight bow, then dissolved back into mist and vanished.

Richard stared at the two parcels on the desk, not touching them just yet.

Selling the [Moon Nail · Reflection] Technique actually came with another benefit for him.

Both Aries and Nemesis had included three remote after-sale consultations.

In other words, from now on, he had acquired two test subjects for free.

He had only ever tested the [Moon Nail · Reflection] Technique on himself and Coleman.

The sample size was pitifully small.

And every time those two came for a consultation, they would have to describe the usage conditions, circuit reactions, and the duration of the weakening period in full detail. Otherwise, he couldn’t give them any advice.

All of this was firsthand data that Richard couldn’t have bought with money or time.

Sell one Technique, get two payments, and receive two long-term data sources as a bonus.

Even Richard himself felt this deal was an absolute steal.

He suppressed the flicker of smugness in his heart. There was business to attend to.

‘I still need to perform a Divination.’

He moved the Sphinx Lamp from his bedside.

It was his signature Marvel; when appraising other things, he had to keep it at a distance.

Having done that, he sat down at the desk and started with the most basic method of investigation.

The relatively harmless Copper Mirror was turned over first. The shallow relief carvings around the edge of the Mirror were mostly obscured by oxidized copper rust.

[Erudite] automatically retrieved information: intertwined arcs, head connecting to tail—the “Line of Destiny” pattern, belonging to the Weaving Net Tradition.

The Mirror Surface was dark and wouldn’t reflect his image. Something deep within the Mirror Surface moved with extreme slowness, and he immediately pulled his gaze away.

The ebony box was more troublesome.

Aries’s words still rang in his ears: he couldn’t identify what was inside, and he wouldn’t be responsible if anything went wrong.

Richard placed the box in the center of the desk and first examined the temporary Seal Aries had added.

The knife strokes were hurried and the finishing was sloppy. It had been carved in a rush on the way out of the Ashen Zone.

Richard could understand this one. It was a very crude Seal, one he could replicate offhandedly.

But layered over Aries’s crude Seal was another one.

It was from Hecate.

The items had passed through her hands, and she had taken the opportunity to add a Seal to each of the two suspected Marvels, along with a tiny note detailing the steps to remove them.

Richard picked up the note to read it.

He could understand every word on the note, but the Seal itself…

He pressed his Spiritual Vision against it, trying to read the Seal’s structure following the note’s instructions.

By the third stroke, his inspiration began to slip.

The Inscription’s strokes interlocked, with turning points hidden within the shadows of other turning points, superimposing several Seals onto the same surface.

The “stress fatigue” method he’d used to break the Sphinx Lamp was completely useless against this Seal… he couldn’t even find where the turning points were.

This Seal was a complete black box.

Richard stared at it for a long while, but then felt a sense of relief.

‘Right. It’s only natural that a Seal Hecate casually added would be impossible for me to perform an Analysis on at my current stage.’

‘But to get the Points, I have to break the Seal, even just a little.’

The question now was whether he could handle the consequences of breaking it even a little.

Richard decided to perform a Divination first. He took out his Tarot Cards.

Mrs. MacNeil had given him a deck when she taught him to read the cards.

The cards were brand new; the gold lacquer on their backs didn’t even have scuff marks.

When Mrs. MacNeil gave him the cards, she had said that a new deck needs to be broken in.

It doesn’t recognize its owner, its Ether imprint a blank slate. The Caster has to nurture it over and over, letting their own Ether seep into the paper fibers little by little.

Only when the cards recognize their person will the readings be accurate.

Richard had only nurtured this deck for a short time; it was still very raw.

He first took out the Copper Disc and placed it in the center of the desk.

Then he poured out a small pinch of Dangling Star Sand, sprinkling it around the edge of the Copper Disc.

He didn’t have the materials to make a sealing paper right now, but sprinkling a little on the disc’s edge to borrow its nature of “suspension” and “reflection” would provide a good foundation for the Divination.

After doing this, Richard placed the ebony box in the center of the Copper Disc.

He began to shuffle the cards.

The new cards felt stiff as he shuffled, as if there was a layer between each card.

Following the method Mrs. MacNeil had taught him, he first thoroughly formulated the question in his mind.

“Is there danger in completely removing this Seal?”

Then, following the rhythm of his Quadruple Breathing, he let his Ether seep into his palms and into the cards, little by little.

He stopped after the seventh shuffle, cut the deck, and drew the first card from the middle.

He turned it over.

[Death God · Reversed]

The color drained from Richard’s face.

A skeletal knight on a white horse held a black flag painted with a white rose.

But the card was upside down. The knight was headfirst, and the white horse that should have been charging forward had its hooves in the air.

Richard’s breathing slowed.

The upright Death God card speaks of “endings” and “transformation”—one door closes, the old dies, and the new is born.

The reversed Death God speaks of “refusing transformation.”

What should end, hasn’t. What should die, clings on, refusing to pass.

Something that should be resting in its final place has been forcibly held back.

He didn’t dwell on it and drew the second card, asking, “Where does the danger come from?”

He turned it over.

[The Moon · Reversed].

‘This card again.’

In Whitcomb, behind Holbrook’s cotton carder, on the night after the battle at the Unyielding Pit—The Moon card had been drawn time and time again.

An inverted moon hung between two towers. A dog and a wolf howled at it, and a crayfish emerged halfway from the water.

The reversed Moon is “an illusion within an illusion,” and also self-deception.

‘You think you see clearly, but in truth, you’re still only seeing the layer it wants you to see.’

At that moment, the ring of Dangling Star Sand in the Copper Disc moved ever so slightly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Richard noticed the grains of sand at the disc’s edge had, at some point, gathered toward the side of the box, forming an arc that pointed toward its center.

The sand wouldn’t move on its own. The thing inside the box had “drawn” it over, right through two layers of Seals.

Richard’s fingertips paused on the back of the deck.

Lady Mary’s maxim still echoed in his ears: A Divination Master is a Detective. The evidence doesn’t speak for itself; you have to deduce its meaning.

Death God·Reversed: inside is something that “refuses to rest.”

The Moon·Reversed: it will use illusions to trick you, making you believe that unsealing it is safe and worthwhile.

He took a deep breath and drew the third card, asking the most direct question:

“What will happen if I completely remove the Seal?”

He turned it over.

[The Tower · Upright].

‘The Tower again. The last person who drew The Tower had their inspiration damaged, and it still hasn’t recovered.’

Richard stared at the card, his chest tightening.

The Tower Card is the most merciless card in the entire Tarot deck.

It represents a sudden, irreversible collapse.

‘Placing it as the answer to the question of “completely removing the Seal”…’

Reading the three cards together, a logical chain snapped into place in Richard’s mind.

Inside the box is something that refuses to rest (Death God·Reversed);

it will use illusions to lure you into releasing it (The Moon·Reversed);

and if you actually remove the entire Seal, it’s all over (The Tower·Upright).

Inside the Copper Disc, the arc of Dangling Star Sand that had gathered toward the box’s center crept forward another tiny bit.

Richard pressed his hands on the edge of the desk, not daring to draw a fourth card to probe what lay deeper behind “The Tower.”

Mrs. MacNeil had tried to draw a fourth card to see behind the Answering Head and was nearly dragged away by a pupil-less eye.

He remembered that lesson. When Divination involved a High Tier, it immediately triggered a backlash. This was a boundary he had drawn for himself, and he would not cross it.

The warning was crystal clear: complete removal meant extreme danger.

But he had one more question to ask.

He gathered the two cards representing “danger,” leaving only the box on the Copper Disc, and shuffled the deck again.

This time, he approached the question from a different angle.

Instead of asking “Can I remove it all at once,” he asked, “Can I do it slowly?”

He applied his experience from the Sphinx Lamp to this situation.

Back then, he hadn’t dared to shatter the lamp’s Seal all at once. Instead, he had repeatedly applied stress to make the turning points fatigue, little by little.

Eventually, a crack had formed, allowing him to slowly siphon out the Ether within.

‘In batches, letting it seep, not opening the lid all at once.’

He thoroughly contemplated this method in his mind, letting the thought seep into the cards, shuffled seven times, and drew.

After turning the card, Richard’s expression relaxed slightly.

[Temperance · Upright].

An Angel stood with one foot in the water and one foot on the shore, holding a cup in each hand.

Water poured back and forth between the two cups, neither too much nor too little.

Temperance, harmony, patience—bringing two things into balance bit by bit, without rushing.

The second card was turned over: [The Star · Upright].

Richard’s eyes lit up.

The Star Card speaks of hope and guidance, the pool of fresh water that refills what was dry.

It appeared as the answer to the question of “gradual removal.”

But as Richard stared at the water the woman was pouring from a jug back into the river, he remembered drawing this same Star Card when he did a Divination on whether his manuscript would be published.

‘That time, after the woman poured the water back into the river, her hands were empty.’

‘It can be done, but at a cost.’

The cost of dismantling this box in batches was time and patience. It meant applying stress again and again, then stopping to rest again and again. He absolutely could not be greedy.

Inside the Copper Disc, after the [Temperance] and [The Star] cards were revealed, the arc of Dangling Star Sand that had gathered toward the box’s center very slowly dispersed, retreating to the edge of the disc.

Richard let out a long breath.

‘The imagery is clear enough.’

Opening this box completely is The Tower Card—collapse and a dead end.

But if he learned from his experience with the Sphinx Lamp—in batches, slowly, leaving most of the Seal intact and only letting it seep out bit by bit…

The result is [Temperance] and [The Star]. It’s possible, but it requires the price of patience. He couldn’t rush a single step.

As for the Copper Mirror… he set the box aside, replaced it with the Copper Mirror, and went through the process again.

The cards drawn for the Copper Mirror were much gentler.

There was no [Death God] and no [The Tower].

The first card was [The Priestess · Upright].

The Priestess sat serenely between two black and white pillars, a half-concealed law scroll spread across her lap.

The second card was [The Moon · Upright].

This time The Moon was upright, indicating a fog that needed to be explored but was, for now, harmless.

The Copper Mirror was far safer than the box.

Richard gathered the Tarot cards one by one and put them back in their box.

He had only been nurturing the new deck for half a month, and this was the first time he had used it for something so important.

He himself was a little surprised that the reading had been so clear.

Perhaps it was thanks to the Dangling Star Sand, or perhaps the deck was slowly beginning to recognize him as its owner.

He carefully collected the ring of Dangling Star Sand from the Copper Disc as well.

The stuff was precious and had to be stored separately.

By the time he finished, it was already very late.

Richard put away the ebony box and the Copper Mirror.

‘When my Divination skills have improved, I’ll come back and pry it open, bit by bit.’

He blew out the gas wall lamp.

Outside, a light snow had begun to fall, landing silently against the windowpane.