LOTM: Traveling between epoch

"The national system of the Fourth Epoch?"

Audrey's eyebrows arched as she mused aloud. "That might well be better… or it might introduce other, more arcane problems. Either way, we know it's entirely impractical in the current age."

Her gaze swept across the long bronze table.

"Gentlemen, do you have any more actionable suggestions?"

She smiled helplessly. As expected, Mr. Angel was fond of voicing grand notions—bold, sweeping statements that sounded brilliant but were frustratingly disconnected from practical implementation.

Eli Walker did not respond further. What could he say? Propose that the Loen Kingdom open its gates to budding intellectuals and let the destitute lead reform? Or perhaps applaud the commoners' right to starve in perfect freedom?

Some choices are merely the privilege to suffer differently.

"It's a simple question," Klein interjected, voice steady.

A confident smile tugged at his lips. This was his domain—his area of expertise.

With practiced poise, he began outlining the imperial examination system—a structured, meritocratic apparatus that once selected civil servants through rigorous assessments of learning and capability.

Audrey listened attentively, her mind spinning through historical precedents and structural parallels. Even Alger, who rarely concerned himself with governance, appeared intrigued by the mechanical simplicity and potential efficacy of such a system.

Back and forth the discussion flowed, until their combined input sketched a rough but tangible blueprint for reform—a blend of Roselle-style modernization and practical statecraft. Klein's detailed insights were instrumental, echoing the subtle influence he had once exerted on Benson's career trajectory… and even—though he wouldn't admit it—on George III's apotheosis ritual.

"This… this is truly a good idea," Audrey said earnestly, the brilliance in her azure eyes undisguised.

"Mr. Fool, you must be a wise, experienced, and extraordinarily capable elder," she added with sincere admiration.

Klein's expression stiffened almost imperceptibly. His eyelid twitched.

"And this sort of vision—this way of thinking from the perspective of the entire kingdom," Eli added with a deliberate tone of reverence, "is something not everyone can possess."

He leaned back slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching with theatrical irony.

"If I didn't know it to be highly improbable, I might have assumed you once governed a vast empire."

Klein's expression darkened a shade.

Is this praise or mockery?

What do you mean, 'highly improbable'? That's practically saying, 'I know a figure like you couldn't possibly have ruled anything important.'

Indeed, as mysterious and aloof as Mr. Fool appeared, his aura seemed fundamentally incompatible with earthly authority. Kings and prime ministers were bound by blood, bureaucracy, and borders. The Fool stood above them—distant, ungoverned, untouchable.

Audrey, for her part, gently patted her cheeks, embarrassed at having underestimated him for so long.

She had met royalty. She had dined with prime ministers, even conversed with archbishops of the three major Churches. But none of them held the same profound depth—or terrifying obscurity—as the Fool who presided silently from atop the gray mist.

His true identity… must be far more dreadful than she had dared imagine.

"…Let us end the gathering here."

Klein looked around at the three club members—each lost in their own elaborate overthinking—and resisted the urge to sigh. He tamped down his embarrassment and offered his usual closing.

Overthinking is fine. Just don't say it out loud!

"As you command." x3

Eli stood and offered a graceful bow.

Then, without hesitation, he invoked his spiritual anchor—the Crimson Star.

His spiritual body shimmered, fractured into illusory fragments, and his consciousness returned from the depths of the gray mist.

Fourth Epoch.

Somewhere in the ancient Elven settlements.

Eli Walker stared silently at the object in his palm.

A golden chain, faintly flickering, forged with runic marks alien to the modern script. With one hand, he held Arrodes, borrowing the Calamity Pathway characteristic sealed within. With the other, he gripped the chain tightly—lightning crackled between his fingers.

The Sealed Artifact trembled, then shattered—pulverized into dust by the violent force. And yet, contrary to the usual sequence of dissolution, the chain did not reassemble into a raw Beyonder characteristic. Instead, it dissolved into a stream of Gray Mist, vanishing into the invisible folds of history.

"What… was that?" Eli murmured.

He gazed at his now-empty hand. Of course, he understood the mechanics, at least superficially.

This was merely a historical void projection, not a true material object of the present timeline.

Sacrifices made from the Fifth Epoch could not permanently manifest in the Fourth—they could only be projected as phantoms through the corridors of history.

Does Sefirah Castle… possess the ability to summon artifacts from the future as historical echoes?

Could the Celestial Worthy do this as well?

He frowned, memory stirring. Back before his transmigration, in the records of the three Fool Pathways—Seer, Fool, and Error—he had never seen this ability utilized in such a way.

Was this power latent within Sefirah Castle all along? Or… did my transmigration awaken it somehow?

And more importantly, what practical use does this give me?

He turned toward the ornate, reflective surface of Arrodes, and asked:

"Your thoughts?"

"Eli," the mirror answered slowly, with rare hesitation, "I have a feeling…"

"Out with it. In the future timeline, I'm just a dual Sequence 9 small fry."

"If this power can only summon historical shadows, then I fail to see how it offers any immediate benefit."

He shrugged. He understood that the Fourth Epoch was a golden age, ripe with growth and opportunity. But if the future could not actively influence the present...

That was a rather pathetic exploit for a transmigrator.

"Can you do it again?" Arrodes asked, displaying a replay of his earlier action on the mirror surface.

"In theory, yes."

He disappeared in a swirl of wind and returned a few seconds later with a new object: a misty crystalline heart, faintly pulsating.

This was a Sequence 3 'Scholar of Yore' characteristic, extracted from the extinct Demonic Wolf race, now held in the Elven treasury.

Eli concentrated, attempting to re-summon the golden chain he had just crushed. He grasped at the air—nothing. No sense of linkage to the timeline. No resonance with the mists.

"I had it once," he muttered.

"Could it be that historical void projections cannot be summoned again?"

"Maybe contact with a phantom Sealed Artifact doesn't count as true possession?"

"But I held it in the Fifth Epoch."

Another failed grasp.

He changed tactics. Eli tried to summon the Sea King characteristic he had once consumed. It was difficult, but after several trials, he managed to pull forth a Sequence 3-level Beyonder characteristic from the Gray Mist.

"Hm… So summoning from the future still requires… a future?"

Or perhaps the key is Sefirah Castle.

He turned introspective. In his mind's eye, he inscribed fortune-transferring runes, building a spiritual ritual aimed at the Crimson Star floating in the astral Sea of Fog.

Back in the mysterious realm of the Gray Mist, the star representing "Eli" began to flicker. The spiritual arrangements left behind responded automatically, relaying the prayer to the offline Fool.

In the material world, the ritual succeeded.

A new projection descended from history—a perfect replication of the Sealed Artifact he'd just used.

"Arrodes," Eli said, eyes flickering, "shall I pulverize it again?"

He twirled the chain in his palm like a toy, waiting for the mirror's reply.

"Yes," Arrodes answered, its twin gemstone eyes lighting with brilliance. "I wish to attempt an intervention."

"Then let's test it."

"As before. Crush it."

"You're holding the Calamity characteristic anyway."

Eli recalled the process vividly—the trembling, the backlash, the surging lightning. He wasn't a demigod of the White Tower Pathway, so he hadn't deduced anything from the phenomenon previously. But this time, he watched carefully.

Arrodes' reflective surface began to glow, shimmering with rippling runes. Lightning surged forth from the mirror's center, converging with the power of Calamity.

As before, the chain disintegrated—converted into raw Gray Mist, destined to dissolve back into the timeline.

But this time…

The silver brilliance from Arrodes enveloped the cloud of mist, capturing it before it could vanish. With a ripple of divine interference, the mirror pulled the projection into itself, severing its historical tether.

A forbidden moment crystallized.