Aspect Rank: [Divine].
Yeah, that was expected to be honest. As I said earlier, being the Uniqueness brought to life means I was already infinitely close to being a True God. Though it did raise the question about the Author Characteristics: would I somehow need to become Divine three times over, or would mastering the Author Aspect allow me to automatically sublime into Sequence 0?
What about the Apotheosis Ritual? I sincerely doubted I had the skill or patience to direct the world from behind for a thousand years. Hell, I didn't even have the time! My biggest problem was the Acting Method though-or rather, me being devoured by the Acting Method.
Amon and the Hidden Sage were great examples of the negative effects of being born Complete Mythical Creatures. Even for a softie like Azik, it took having his soul split in half and walking around as an amnesic corpse for a thousand years to learn the meaning of Humanity. Amon failed to do so even after losing the majority of His Godhood, becoming just a Sequence 2 and wandering the Cosmos. At most, He become more melodramatic.
Would something similar happen to me? Would I gradually lose my sense of self and be assimilated into the Uniqueness? The experiences of my namesake were useless, since the Ancient Sun God's botched attempt at revival made it impossible to distinguish what was Adam's original personality and what was the result of being taken over.
Rubbing my eyebrows as a wave of sudden fatigue swept over me, I tried to stop thinking of that and move on. Foolish I know, but the thought was too stressful to deal with on top of everything else.
So I read the abilities.
[Spectator].
As the description unfolded in my mind, the world around me seemed to slow down and magnify. The fearful huddle of refugees was no longer just a mass of terrified people. It was an open book. A slight tremble in a man's hand wasn't just fear; it was a possible tell of a strapped to his forearm. The way a mother's eyes flickered towards a specific pillar wasn't just anxiety; it was the location of where she had hidden something.
The whispered argument between two priests wasn't just panic; it was a deep-seated theological rift laid bare in their micro-expressions, erupting once again. Information flooded me, not as just a noise, but as a somewhat comprehensible stream. He could see the strings connecting everyone, the hidden hierarchies, the secret alliances and hatreds. The power was passive, constant, and overlapping in a way I didn't yet understand, but that was merely my personal inexperience talking.
This was just the first ability. The first of nine unknowns, culminating in…
[Visionary].
The description of the final ability was a vista of such terrifying, absolute power that I almost wanted to laugh again. Omnipotence and Omniscience within the Mind World. Authority over Dreams. Authority over the very concept of Loss of Control—the root of the Corruption itself. How would that work in this world? Would it cause a seed of Corruption to just...appear inside someone? Would they still break down and mutate into a monster? And how would it affect those who were already monsters? This was one of my biggest fears about using the Potion System: compatibility.
The Curator hadn't outright stopped me, but neither had he guaranteed my success. Still, the effectiveness was sure to be outstanding. Jet had stated that loads of Awakened grappled with mental issues due to the Nightmares, not to mention the waves that would be stirred up in Antarctica. Wait, wasn't trauma also a cause to be infected with the Spell? Could I specifically trigger Nightmare Seeds within other people to convert them into Awakened? The potential there so too much for me to focus on right now.
The sheer, grotesque scale of the favouritism was staggering. This wasn't being thrown into the deep end; this was being given control of the ocean before the first drop of water touched you. The Curator hadn't just broken the rules. He had looked at the board, decided he didn't like the game, and handed his player a flamethrower. 'Thank you, O' mysterious Curator' I offered a quick prayer of gratitude in my head.
I looked out at the doomed temple, at the people I had moments ago pitied. My perspective had been violently inverted. I wasn't a victim trapped in a nightmare. I was a Divine Ranked Awakened, a Spectator of unparalleled perception, and a potential Visionary of the mental realm, standing in a scenario perfectly designed for my specific, world-altering powers.
I was no longer a variable the vision hadn't accounted for. I was the anomaly that was going to shred the vision entirely. A faint, cold smile touched my lips, utterly devoid of humour. It was the smile of someone who had just been handed the keys to a fortress and told the siege outside was now his problem to solve.
…That arrogance shattered only seconds later when a man appeared on the edge of a courtyard. He was middle-aged, with his grey hair short and cropped close. He sported a trim mouth beard of black hair, and his eyes were a dried gold. For cloths, he wore a simple clerical robe of light blue and red pants.
A curved scar ran down his right cheek to just under his cheekbone, though it was relatively faint and I wouldn't have noticed if not for my Spectator vision. His mouth was set in a stern frown, and the lines surrounding it told me it had been that way for years. His skin was also a slight grey, not quite healthy. The most notable trait of his though, for me, was the look in his eyes.