Lumian was gripped with fear as the Angel suddenly warped out of his loose pants and white shirt, reverting back into his black and blue robe.
"I told you… we will surely meet again."
This guy again… what did I do to you? Lumian turned his hand and lit a small flame, instantly throwing it forward.
Pa!
Before the flame could reach the Angel—who still wore that faint smile—it suddenly shattered in mid-air. "Be honest with yourself. You already know you don't stand a chance against me."
The Angel let out a small sigh. "You're always so annoying. As I said before, I have questions… and I want answers from you."
Lumian didn't even know how to respond.
Abel calmly reached into his pocket and brought out a silver coin before casually flipping it into the air.
Then, as though speaking to a lifelong friend, he asked,
"Would you not like to answer my questions?"
Lumian suddenly laughed, unable to hold it in anymore.
"I don't even know you. What questions could you possibly have for me?"
Hearing that, Abel merely smiled and flipped the coin once more.
In the next instant, his figure suddenly became smaller before gradually moving toward Lumian.
Then—
he entered his head.
Immediately, Lumian found himself standing atop a high building.
Below him, carriages moved through the streets while pedestrians walked calmly along the sidewalks.
The surrounding buildings possessed oriel windows and tall chimneys, carrying the distinct atmosphere of a steampunk era.
"What…"
Lumian was momentarily stunned.
He turned to his left and saw the slightly long black-haired Angel quietly gazing at the people below.
"This…" Abel spoke softly. "This place is where I was raised. Geound."
He paused briefly before continuing,
"And shockingly enough, it also exists within your memories."
"…What? How?"
Lumian immediately looked down toward the kingdom and its surroundings.
Then, realization suddenly struck him.
He had seen this place before.
It was the very same kingdom he had glimpsed when he first consumed his potion. At that time, however, everything had been covered in crimson smoke, making it impossible to see clearly.
The moment he realized this, Lumian's eyes widened instantly.
By this time—around 1856—Mary had already written the Book of Revelation. Long before now, she had introduced people to Mysticism itself, informing the world about mystics, Orders and phases.
That would mean any newly awakened sorcerer would naturally possess some form of connection to her.
And I drank a potion… my very first encounter with Mysticism.
Perhaps… perhaps this was all arranged by St. Mary herself.
Could she be trying to send some kind of message?
Countless thoughts flooded his mind one after another, rumbling endlessly like distant thunder.
Abel looked at him with an unchanged expression before speaking calmly, a faint chuckle escaping his lips.
"I'm truly saddened by it. This place was destroyed long ago in history."
He let out a soft sigh before once again revealing that familiar smile. "But to be frank, your species is quite lucky."
He glanced toward the streets below.
"If you didn't know already, a girl once killed the Loop One."
"Normally, your world would have continued along an unstoppable calendar, endlessly repeating the same day over and over again, as though trapped within an eternal loop."
"But after it was killed, time finally began to move properly once more… creating the three hundred and sixty-five days you now recognize as a normal year."
Lumian's thoughts immediately trembled.
The Loop One… that sounds like the work of Quin Pirch.Does that mean she only kills evil gods?
But after thinking more deeply about it, another thought surfaced.
Could something like that even be considered evil?
…Perhaps, to some extent.
Lumian silently argued with himself inwardly before finally turning toward the Angel and asking a question.
"Mr. Mystery… or perhaps I should address you differently?"
Lumian spoke calmly as he turned toward the Angel.
Abel merely looked back at him with interest, yet offered no reply.
Seeing that silence, Lumian continued. "The thing I actually want to ask about concerns something I heard earlier."
"It was said that all powers related to Mysticism were originally granted by the Creator through His ideas, which eventually formed the Orders. But what about the other entities?"
As soon as those words left his mouth, Lumian suddenly realized another trait of a Magician.
He could speak far more boldly than before. Things he normally would not dare to say now came out naturally, almost effortlessly.
It felt less like recklessness and more like an unnatural increase in charisma and confidence.
Abel chuckled.
Then he chuckled again.
And again.
Only after a while did he finally steady himself and speak in a solemn tone. "You are quite bold, I see."
A faint smile still lingered on his face. "Now, this is where nearly everyone misunderstands the entire power system."
"The Creator is not the only being capable of possessing ideas and concepts. He simply possessed far more than most beings… and after fusing with the world, those ideas spread throughout reality itself, granting Mysticism to the entities He created."
"But for the other entities, the situation is different."
"In this universe, beyond potions, beyond Orders, and even beyond phases…"
"The true power system is ideas."
"It is not only the Creator who can obtain ideas," Abel continued calmly. "Other entities can as well. Even humans."
"Ideas function similarly to scientific discoveries. One being discovers something… then others follow behind. That is essentially what happened with the Creator."
At that moment, realization slowly dawned on Lumian.
Now the power system is finally starting to make sense.
Other entities do not possess Mysticism because of the Creator…
They possess power because they have ideas of their own.
Could this also apply to Pallas Quinky… the creator of the Diviner Order?
That would explain it…
...
As the thought crossed his mind, Lumian unconsciously spoke aloud."Is there any possibility… that the Loop One could return? And that the world might fall into a loop once more?"
Abel casually flipped his silver coin once again.
"It's highly unlikely since it's already dead," he replied calmly.
"But… it could happen if enough people believe in it."
The moment those words entered his ears, Lumian felt as though he had been struck by a bolt of thunder.
He immediately remembered something crucial—
believing in envisioned ideas could strengthen them.
A cold chill spread through him.
At that moment, he suddenly felt like a man trapped in the middle of a deadly pandemic… except he was the very first infected patient.
Looking at Abel's calm smiling face, Lumian cautiously asked,
"But what exactly are the questions you wanted to ask me?"
Abel leisurely flipped the coin once more.
Then he spoke in a strange staccato manner, as though his very existence were glitching in and out of reality.
"I wanted… to ask you something, hehe."
"But it seems… you are still very confused."
"I'm sure we will meet again another time."
"And when the moment is right… I will tell you."
...
The instant those words fell, Abel suddenly disappeared.
Lumian's eyes snapped open.
He found himself back in the kitchen, breathing heavily. Skywalker… that guy really managed to scare me again.
He rubbed his forehead, his thoughts still unsettled.
Was any of that even real?
Without thinking further, he immediately walked to his room, closed the door behind him, and lay down quickly.
...
Nine o'clock at night. Yellow Hotel, Mitchell Street.
In the quiet stillness of the night, a girl of about sixteen years old sat on her bed, clutching her head in agony.
No, it was as though something inside her was struggling to break free.
With trembling movements, she rose from the bed and sat down on a nearby chair.
Slowly, she picked up a gun and pressed the barrel against her temple.
Bang!
Crimson blood instantly burst forth, splattering across the chair and staining the nearby window.
At the same time, similar scenes were unfolding in other rooms throughout the hotel.
One after another.
Each ending with the same deafening sound of gunfire.
...
Laggon Mountains, Gallon.
Under the cover of night, five hikers—two men and three women—made their way through the Laggon Mountains.
Laughter echoed through the cold air as they approached a ravine, clearly enjoying themselves. From time to time, they stopped to take selfies, capturing the beauty of the mountains and the darkness around them.
Eventually, exhaustion caught up with them.
They sat down on a flat patch of stone and began chatting casually, sharing stories about work, personal experiences, and the frustrations of everyday life.
It turned out they were office workers from the same department who had come to the mountains to relax and get some fresh air.
After a while, one of them suddenly pointed toward the sky.
A brilliant blue shooting star streaked across the darkness, so bright that it illuminated the surrounding peaks.
Excited, the five of them closed their eyes and made wishes.
One wished for a happy life.
Another wished to feel fulfilled.
One of the women wished to find a good husband.
When they finished, they laughed together and rose to their feet.
High above, the blue shooting star gradually disappeared into the night.
The group resumed walking, still joking among themselves.
None of them noticed that on the hand of one of the men, a strange blue mark—resembling a hickey—had already begun to spread.