Chapter 70

Ortes pronounced the doom with a composed smile.

The return of the Wizard King was not a shocking event. It *was* the shock itself.

Beyond the Twelve Ministers, the archenemy of all sects.

The end of the Mythic Age.

The sole Ascendant.

To those who serve the gods, the name of the Wizard King equated to sheer terror.

Even the round table that had not been completely silenced by Hyacinth’s outburst fell into an eerie stillness.

Could it be true—a being who disappeared thousands of years ago is returning to this land?

A declaration so potent it could bleach one’s thoughts. Not even Hyacinth himself, who demanded the prophecy of “the greatest calamity,” was exempt from its impact.

Hyacinth’s foretelling did not predict the Wizard King’s return. Though similar in context as both heralded a catastrophe sweeping across the world…

“How can such an absurd prophecy exist?”

The words uttered by the man were closer to a curse than anything else. Hyacinth’s foresight was the result of meticulous reasoning and precise predictions intertwined with divine grace.

Yet here Utes stood, without any evidence, invoking the dreaded name of the Wizard King merely to spout shocking nonsense. Why would such a powerful entity—who had ascended to a godlike status and whose power was so overwhelming it was almost merciful—return to the mortal realm?

He wasn’t a prophet but a madman.

…Unless he had to be.

A recent vision lingered in his mind. Something descending amidst ominous clouds of fate covering the celestial sphere.

As the Sect Leader of the Phobos Sect, Hyacinth could interpret the elements within the vision. The clouds surrounding the visitor symbolized fragments of destiny the visitor could twist and dominate.

All destinies converged and bowed before him, as if the world itself had been created for his arrival.

What other presence could command such overwhelming reverence? The departed gods? Or perhaps extraterrestrial beings reaching their hands into this world?

“Within three years at most, the Wizard King will resurrect, regaining his physical form.”

“Truly, you are mad!”

Hyacinth cried out, possibly denying the reality of the future Utes had shown them.

“Do you mean to say you know nothing of this either?”

Utes’ smile deepened. It was the bitter grin reserved for those who struggle against fate.

Having seen that same expression on others’ faces, Hyacinth felt a profound sense of helplessness.

Demos was equally bewildered by Utes’ words. He had summoned Utes to vote on a strategy regarding Argeyirion.

Should they facilitate the expansion of Argeyirion’s influence or leak subtle clues to the Ten Towers to drive them away?

Currently, the majority favored facilitating or even collaborating with Argeyirion, believing that allowing them to grow stronger before interfering with the Ten Towers would benefit the Theistic Order.

However, Demos thought differently. Most of the silver-hosts used by Argeyirion in their terrorism were ordinary believers, people incapable of wielding divine power and thus unable to resist.

Supporting or aiding Argeyirion amounted to contributing to unnecessary deaths. To prevent such evil, he had invited the seer of Phobos.

If anyone could see the future and testify to how horrifying the consequences of innocent deaths would be—and suggest a way forward without sacrifices—it was this seer.

‘But suddenly, the Wizard King?!’

Demos glanced at the seer of Phobos, whose smile remained unwavering, as if he had anticipated this very situation.

***

‘It’s fine, it’s fine, I haven’t been caught yet…’

I let out a sigh of relief inwardly. Honestly, I was a bit nervous until midway about whether I should have brought the crystal orb of Phobos.

But given the task Hyacinth gave me—”Just tell us something dangerous”—I was confident in my victory.

Prophecies, after all, can’t be cross-verified. Whatever I said, they could claim, “That’s a fake prophecy!” And I could retort, “Maybe your abilities aren’t good enough to see it?”

Since prophecies—from witnessing them to interpreting them—are entirely subjective, unless relics or holy artifacts get involved, there’s no way to verify their authenticity.

But even considering those variables, my prophecy held firm.

‘Because it’s canon.’

Though I’ve been slapped in the face a few times for blindly trusting the original story, the core settings haven’t deviated significantly so far.

The Wizard King’s return in 2077 is one of the most fundamental parts of the canon. For the Theistic Order, it’s both the most shocking future and an irrevocable fact.

Hyacinth looked a little more serious; maybe what I said was too much? I glanced around casually.

Ah. Everyone else had their faces hidden. Glancing briefly at Demos, who had summoned me, I saw the same look of astonishment.

For descendants of those betrayed by the Wizard King, it was unsurprising they reacted strongly. But…

“Do you mean to say you know nothing of this either?”

While it made sense that the Ten Towers, having personally toppled the Wizard King, wouldn’t expect his return, it was unexpected that even the Theistic Order, which viewed the Wizard King as their eternal enemy, hadn’t suspected his resurrection.

I had assumed they’d have some clue about the Wizard King’s revival.

I had speculated that the reason the Theistic Order disappeared during the original timeline was because they actively moved to stop the Wizard King’s return, exposing themselves easily to Blasphemia’s surveillance and ultimately leading to their downfall.

‘So, why did the Theistic Order disappear then?’

***

A priest who had remained silent since the mysterious visitor arrived finally spoke.

“Truly bold—and arrogant. You don’t act like a prophet of the gods but as if you yourself were a god.”

It was a towering figure cloaked in white robes and a matching hood, his voice resonating powerfully throughout the round table chamber, dispelling even the fear brought by the prophecy.

“Who might you be?”

“I am Philoxenon, serving Aegio, the foremost among the Twelve Ministers.”

The word “foremost” describing Aegio met no resistance, though some discomfort showed on the faces of the other priests. After all, Aegio was undeniably the chief deity of the Theistic Order’s pantheon.

To illustrate: while Phobos was “the god seated highest in the heavens, seeing furthest,” Aegio *was* the heavens themselves.

“The master of the skies. The overseer of oaths. The earthly agent of the one who wields thunder! Nice to meet you again. I’m Utes.”

Utes’ grandiloquent address seemed akin to a jester mocking a king. Philoxenon responded with solemnity.

“That’s correct. As Aegio oversees oaths, I’ve been granted the sacred ability to discern their truth.”

Oh dear. Ortes mumbled internally. Is there really such a sacred ability?

When Philoxenon raised his hand, a luminous scale made of lightning appeared. On one side lay a single feather of an eagle.

“This is the sacred artifact that weighs your conscience. If you truly believe what you’ve said, place a strand of your hair on the opposite scale.”

***

Without hesitation, I plucked a strand of hair.

Honestly, I hesitated a bit. Losing a hair follicle isn’t ideal, is it? But if you’re trying to deceive—or rather, convince someone—you mustn’t show any doubt.

I placed the strand of hair on the lightning-infused scale.

Philoxenon asked sternly.

“Where did you hear this prophecy about the return of the vanished wizard?”

“I didn’t hear it. I saw it with my own eyes.”

If this scale truly reads my heart as Philoxenon claims, it will confirm the truth. Because I read the original story back on Earth.

Sure enough, the scales wobbled slightly before tilting toward my hair. Philoxenon asked again.

“Do you believe in the future you’ve testified to?”

“Not just that. I also believe in the events that follow. The Wizard King’s actions will bring about the apocalypse for our world.”

The scales remained tilted toward my hair. Philoxenon sighed deeply.

“…My questions are done. Fellow disciples, does anyone else have questions?”

A brief silence followed. Just as the priests exchanged glances, a question from earlier resurfaced.

“What’s the secret to passing the Blasphemia interview?”

“Getting my position in Blasphemia wasn’t through an interview. If I must say, it was more like a practical exam. I stood alongside Blasphemia agents in several battles and earned my current status during missions that even drew the attention of secret inspectors.”

I answered as honestly as possible. We were indeed on the same battlefield. Just not on the same side—we fought each other.

The sound of someone clicking their tongue echoed. Did they want to infiltrate Blasphemia?

“What do you think of the Ten Towers?”

Proditor continued his ideological probing. I replied swiftly.

“A bunch of assholes endangering the world with their reckless antics?”

Seeing the unmoving scales, Proditor stood up clapping.

“Pass! Definitely pass!”

Urania smacked Proditor on the back of the head but gave me a sly glance.

“Are you interested in love right now? If so, how about me?”

With that, she gently lifted her veil. Golden hair cascaded over porcelain-like skin, resembling a scene straight out of a movie or advertisement.

I struggled to suppress a hollow laugh. It would be a lie to say her features weren’t striking, but I was too close to Carisia to fall for such allure now.

“Neither in love nor in you am I interested.”

The scales remained steady. Urania clicked her tongue once more and asked again.

“Hmm. Do you have someone you like?”

It was a simple question.

“Hmph. No.”

The scales wobbled slightly and tilted toward the eagle feather.

Wait. Why?