"Lord, we'll take our leave first." Ouroboros left with Hermes, leaving only Truman and the Ancient Sun God in the church.
This was a gathering of fellow transmigrators.
Like when Truman learned of the Goddess's identity, there was a sense of camaraderie, yet an invisible barrier lingered due to the nature of this world.
"Care for a drink?" Truman suddenly asked. "Vodka! Guaranteed authentic!"
Truman flipped open the Book of Dreams, pulling out two bottles of liquor.
Dreams come true, fantasies descend upon the world.
"A meeting gift for you." Truman handed the bottles over.
"…Thank you." The Ancient Sun God stared at Truman for a moment before accepting the bottles, his expression tinged with a peculiar mix of regret and nostalgia.
"It's been a long time since I've recalled such memories."
He unscrewed the cap and downed half a bottle. "A familiar taste!"
"In the customs of the ancient Eastern kingdom, I believe a return gift is in order." The Ancient Sun God set down the bottle, his gaze falling on the divine badge at Truman's chest.
"I've got it!" He gently pinched the air, as if a sun coalesced in his hand, forming a badge nearly identical to Truman's divine badge.
Truman's eyes lit up as he sensed its effect—Everday.
Its primary functions were exorcism and purification, but it also had the ability to awaken slumbering beings.
"Thank you!" Truman accepted it, placing it alongside the badge imbued with the Sleepless divinity of the Night. Phosphorescent dreamlight flared, merging the two badges into one.
The divine badge now bore two designs on its faces, with the powers of the Sun and the stars surging within, stabilizing Truman's condition.
"Sleepless and Everday—I might never sleep again." For Truman, this was actually a boon.
Truman chuckled, an unexpected gain.
"What business do you and that lady have with me?" The Ancient Sun God had clearly already met the Goddess!
"A partnership, naturally." Truman's expression turned serious as the Chaos Sea's power and the phosphorescent dreamlight enveloped the church.
"How do we partner?" The Ancient Sun God grasped the cross at his chest, asking calmly and gently.
In that moment, he seemed more divine than human.
"The alliance of ancient gods, Lilith, and the Demonic Wolf," Truman offered these keywords.
The Ancient Sun God's expression remained calm, his eyes clear, unshaken by the mention.
But Truman knew that a force known as the authority of omniscience was stirring within the Chaos Sea.
Though the Ancient Sun God had not yet reclaimed the Spectator and Reader pathways, he could indirectly wield omniscience through the Chaos Sea.
He was deducing, using boundless knowledge to unravel the threads of this era!
He lacked the authority of fate, but his Author abilities were no less potent in this regard.
"Lilith…" The Ancient Sun God's gaze settled on Truman, thoughtful. "You've already persuaded Her?"
"No one wishes to lose themselves," Truman replied, sidestepping a direct answer with a pointed implication.
"Very well." The Ancient Sun God nodded lightly, choosing to follow the tide of the era. "For specifics, speak with Sasrir."
Then, the Ancient Sun God walked to the base of the massive cross, closed his eyes, and began praying to himself.
It felt like this god was slacking off…
Truman blinked, obediently exiting the church to find Ouroboros and Hermes waiting.
"Hello, Ouroboros. Sorry about earlier," Truman said, addressing the Angel of Destiny.
The earlier eruption of the Chaos Sea had nearly overwhelmed Ouroboros.
"Hm?" Ouroboros lifted his eyes from the stone tablet, looking at Truman. After a pause, he responded, "It's fine. You didn't harm me, and you're a friend of the Lord."
He noticed the badge on Truman's chest, sensing a familiar power within it.
"The Lord's oracle bids me take you to Sasrir," Ouroboros said suddenly, extending a hand in invitation.
"Alright, let's go." Truman, along with his tagalong Hermes, followed Ouroboros through the Sun God's divine kingdom.
"The people here!" Hermes was awestruck. They witnessed a grand sacrificial procession, with majestic hymns echoing in praise of the deity who brought sunlight to this land.
Such events were not uncommon in other human city-states, but what truly shook Hermes was that some humans here radiated mystical power.
Most crucially, they showed no signs of mutation, their spirituality was stable, and their mental states exhibited a serene equilibrium Hermes had never seen!
"O Sun, you grant us sunlight and dew, food and holy water…"
The hymns continued, led by several priests, their grandeur invoking true divine power.
"What's happening here?!" Hermes asked, dazed.
"They are Singers," Ouroboros, also praising the Sun, turned to answer Hermes's question.
"Singers?" Hermes's tone brimmed with confusion, as if a thin veil blocked his understanding of the scene.
"Sequence 9, Bard," Truman interjected.
"Sequence 9?!" Hermes's eyes lit up, everything clicking into place.
"You know about Sequences?" A voice approached, and a figure materialized before the trio.
The newcomer wore a deep black robe, with shoulder-length black hair and a face bearing some resemblance to the Ancient Sun God, though more strikingly handsome. His eyes were black, faintly shadowed with depth.
His attire was meticulously crafted, adorned with silver threads and intricate patterns, complemented by ornate accessories.
"Sasrir, why are you here?" Ouroboros blinked, puzzled. "Has the Lord's divine kingdom city been completed?"
Sasrir's face darkened, and he coughed lightly. "I'm here to receive our guests."
"Oh," Ouroboros nodded gently. "Then I'll head off. My mural isn't finished yet."
Ouroboros refocused on his stone tablet, sketching with one hand, fully immersed in his own world.
"Ahem, friend, get me a couple bottles of vodka!" Dark Angel Sasrir stepped closer, whispering.
"…" Truman opened the Book of Dreams and pulled out a bottle of vodka.
This Sasrir gave him an odd impression. The Ancient Sun God was dominated by divinity, with only faint emotional flickers when recalling distant memories, much like the Adam of Truman's impression.
But Sasrir, the King of Angels, exuded an overwhelming humanity, even more so than Ouroboros.
Perhaps that was the very purpose of his creation…
Clearly, Truman preferred dealing with someone like him.
"Hiss! Good stuff!" Sasrir downed a large gulp. "Bayehali!"
Truman grabbed a handful of phosphorescent dreamlight from the Book of Dreams and stuffed it into Sasrir's bottle. The dreamlight rippled, refilling the liquor.
"Such a convenient ability!" Sasrir marveled. Until the dreamlight faded, the liquor would never run dry.
"I can't let Him take this one." Sasrir took another hearty swig, then carefully stored the bottle.
The Sun God might have ways to procure such old-world items, but they wouldn't have the madness-neutralizing effect.
Truman was demonstrating his value.
(End of Chapter)
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Translator's Note: "Bayehali" (or "Bayehari") appears to be a made-up word in this book—I couldn't find its meaning in any of my web searches.
I also believe that "Singer" was only just introduced in this novel. I can't find any "Sequence 9 Singer," only "Sequence 6 Singer" of Everlasting Pathway. And the only known of that pathway is the Noisy Inextinguishable Ravings