Tingen City, Iron Cross Street.
The body that originally belonged to a "Magician" was currently sitting leisurely by the window, fingers toying with an exquisite Monocle.
No, the owner of this body should now be called "Amon."
One of his Sequence 6 "Prometheus" avatars had silently taken over this shell in a way that Beyonders from the Secret Sorcery Club could neither understand nor resist.
It was not parasitism, but a more thorough assimilation, causing the Magician's consciousness to become completely a part of Amon's consciousness.
He flipped through the unlucky fellow's memories with ease, just like reading a dull, third-rate novel.
"Secret Sorcery Club—the Antigonus Family's notes—stolen by people from the Aurora Order—then sold off—"
The corners of Amon's mouth curled into a bored arc.
"What a dull and long-winded little farce."
"As for the Aurora Order?"
The image of that insane "True Creator" flashed through Amon's mind.
If it were the fourth epoch, that Ancient Sun God who could occasionally maintain a shred of sanity might have piqued his interest a little.
But now, a completely insane Outer Deity and that group of equally crazy believers were truly not worth too much attention.
Furthermore, those fanatical members of the Aurora Order probably wouldn't know even until they died that the "Lord" they worshipped, besides the "Snake" of the Fate Pathway by his side, had also once had two sons named "Amon" and "Adam."
What a heartwarming drama of a loving father and filial sons.
Amon shook his head, casting these boring musings behind him.
This world was essentially a cruel zero-sum game.
From the moment his father, that Creator of the City of Silver, was betrayed and devoured by the gods, the so-called "harmony" and "order" were just a joke.
The higher Beyonders climbed, the narrower the path became, and the more insane the struggles grew.
These were not his purpose for coming here today.
His gaze finally locked onto a newly appeared, extremely peculiar node within the web of fate in Tingen City.
"Tingen Citizen Mutual Aid Foundation."
A charitable organization aimed at helping citizens, popularizing financial knowledge, and raising awareness against fraud.
What a novel, what a... interesting name.
"Anti-fraud?"
Amon's avatar whispered the term, and the smile on his lips became even more malicious.
Was it a provocation by the ignorant and fearless? Or a layout with deeper meaning?
Amon's interest was completely piqued.
His gaze followed the countless tiny ripples of fate triggered by the establishment of the Foundation, beginning to trace upwards, attempting to find the source of it all.
Soon, he found that most crucial thread.
Then, he froze.
It was a... thread he had never seen before.
It was chaotic, disordered, unbridled, yet it faintly followed some kind of higher-level, indescribable logic.
It did not resemble any known Beyonder Pathway; rather, it was like a mass of chaos that constantly changed its shape;
Like a giant mask woven from countless faces of weeping, laughing, anger, and sorrow;
Like a mad graffiti artist, wantonly splashing discordant, yet wonderfully beautiful colors onto the established scroll named "Fate."
The playful expression on Amon's face changed for the first time.
It was no longer simple curiosity, but carried a hint of unprecedented solemnity.
In this world, there was actually a power he could not define or understand?
This was simply...
Too interesting!
Amon felt every one of his avatars trembling slightly because of this novel discovery.
He decided to probe the bottom of this thing.
He wanted to see exactly what kind of existence dared to pull such a move of "creating something from nothing" under his very nose.
Amon carefully separated a trace of the Authority belonging to the "Error" Pathway from within this "Prometheus" avatar.
It was an extremely faint yet pure power; it was intangible and formless, like a logical loophole, capable of silently infiltrating any system to "steal" the information within.
Controlling this trace of power, he slowly probed toward that chaotic and disordered thread of fate.
His goal was simple: just "steal" a bit of information to see the essence of this thing.
However, the moment his power came into contact with that mass of chaos.
Boom!
An indescribable torrent of information, mixed with countless vast concepts such as "narrative," "chaos," "drama," "play," and so on, surged back violently!
That was not an attack; there was no hostility; it was more like a grand and absurd "opening ceremony."
Amon's consciousness was instantly pulled into a bizarre and grotesque world.
He saw a theater that was always performing impromptu, with the theater's stage extending to infinity.
Amon's "Prometheus" avatar shook violently, and the Monocle on the bridge of his nose, which symbolized his identity, gave a "crack" sound on the surface, and a tiny, imperceptible crack actually appeared!
His prying failed.
No, this couldn't even be called a failure.
Because the two sides were not even confronting each other on the same level.
Amon felt like a confident top-tier hacker trying to invade a mysterious server with a "bug."
As a result, all his code, all his attack commands, were transformed into a funny animation the moment they touched the opponent's firewall.
In the animation, a character wearing a Clown mask was bowing to him, then flipped over a hole card, and what was drawn on the card was his own bewildered face.
"What... is this?"
For the first time, Amon's avatar uttered a whisper of genuine confusion.
He quickly analyzed the experience just now.
That was absolutely not a confrontation at the level of Authority.
If it were a collision of Authorities, one would be able to clearly feel the clash and annihilation of power.
But the feeling just now was more like a kind of... "dimensional reduction strike" at the symbolic level.
The opponent was not "playing" with him on the same dimension at all.
The opponent used a way he couldn't understand to set a whole new set of game rules, and then, the moment the game started, announced his elimination.
"Sefirah? Or... Outer Deity?"
These two words flashed quickly through Amon's mind.
Only an activated "Sefirah" or a descended "Outer Deity" could possibly possess this kind of symbolic greatness that transcended the Sequence Pathways and pointed directly to the underlying rules of the world.
In an instant, his "invincible in the current era" confidence wavered, for the first time, by a tiny, imperceptible amount.
No, it couldn't be an undiscovered Sefirah.
Almost all Sefirah were in the Western Continent, sealed by the Celestial Worthy; this point was confirmed.
Then, the only possibility was an Outer Deity?
An existence from the Cosmos, at the level of an Outer Deity?
Thinking of this possibility, Amon's interest grew even stronger.
During the fourth epoch, he had dealt with events caused by the projection of power similar to the "Supernova Dominator."
He knew very well that, limited by the barrier, the Outer Deities could not possibly project their main bodies, Uniqueness, or Sefirah in their entirety.
The most they could send in were some insignificant avatars, or sources of corruption containing a portion of their power.
Just like this time, although the opponent "tricked" him at the symbolic level, they did not display destructive power that could directly threaten his main body.
Having figured this out, Amon's mindset immediately returned to that unique composure and Pride.
"I avoid his sharp edge?"
No, that doesn't exist.
In this world, he was fighting on his home turf.
No matter where the opponent came from, as long as the barrier left by the Original Creator was still there, they could not surpass him.
"The advantage is with me!"
Amon's avatar made the judgment happily.
Can't beat them? That doesn't exist.
Even if this Sequence 6 avatar couldn't handle it, he could call for more, stronger avatars at any time, or even have his main body come to "join the fun."
He was already impatient to play a good game with this mysterious "new player."
After all, Amon also didn't want to see those annoying guys from the Cosmos wantonly infiltrating and expanding in his "playground."
Cleaning up trash was also a kind of fun.