Chapter Text
[Chapter 1]: Nightmare
Klein touched the bloody wooden stake on his chest, as though he was considering how to get it out.
During this process, he casually asked Adam, “You didn’t attempt to become a god in the Fourth Epoch because you didn’t obtain 0-08?”
“It was one factor. More importantly, there were still many latent dangers that haven’t been resolved at that time.” Adam looked at the huge cross in front of “Him” with a warm gaze.
Klein turned his head to the side and looked at the Visionary and said, “For example, during that period, the remnant will of the Primordial One was still very strong...”
Before he finished his sentence, a large amount of bright-red blood flowed down Klein’s head.
However, the corner of his lips curled up slightly.
Adam turned “His” head and looked at Klein. “His” limpid, light-colored eyes reflected the face that was stained with blood.
“His” expression remained unchanged, and there was a hint of pity in its warmth. It was as if a god was looking down upon the world.
Klein smiled at “Him” as his head cracked apart.
This trend on his body caused him to collapse into a pool of blood.
In the pool of blood were his clothing, the blood-soaked stake, and an ancient mirror.
In the corpse cathedral, in the divine kingdom of Visionary Adam, Klein had died a strange death.
Adam, dressed in a simple white robe, looked at the scene before “Him” with gentleness and calmness. It was unknown if “He” had expected it or if “He” had avoided having any emotions.
***
Klein dreamt of a corridor that stretched into infinity, shelves towering upward into darkness, their spines twisting and shimmering when glimpsed indirectly. A pale gray fog snaked along the floor, curling into corners and drifting upward as though alive, restless and observing.
Within its shifting depths, fleeting shapes flickered—faces half-formed and indistinct, whispering secrets just beyond comprehension. Dust motes floated lazily through the haze, catching the faint light of hovering lanterns and the glow of select books that pulsed softly, as though aware of unseen eyes. The floor rippled subtly, folding and stretching in impossible patterns, while the gray fog seeped into every crevice, filling the spaces between reality and illusion with a cold, damp presence.
The fog thickened in pockets, coiling around the towering shelves and cloaking passages in opaque veils that obscured distance and depth. Whispers, soft and fragmented, drifted along the tendrils of mist, carrying half-truths and riddles that wound through the library like living threads. Books hovered in midair, their edges faintly illuminated, tethered by invisible currents that pulsed in rhythm with the fog’s deliberate movement. In some places, the haze pooled and swirled with subtle intelligence, suggesting forms that were never fully present—eyes, limbs, shapes that vanished when approached.
Time itself seemed suspended, or perhaps fractured, the fog curling and folding in impossible ways, a silent witness and guardian of the endless labyrinth of knowledge.
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]
‘Where am I? How did I get here?’ Klein muttered, confusion tugging at him.
He looked down and realized something peculiar: he appeared as sixteen-year-old Klein Moretti, standing around 160.5 cm. “Damn, why am I also short in this life as well!?” he lampooned, shaking his head.
Then realization struck. “Can I still access the Sefirot Castle?” He had just confronted Adam; this had to be one of his schemes. Looking at his reflection—or rather, at himself—he saw a modern outfit: a white blazer over a black blouse, paired with black pants.
He attempted to access the Sefirot Castle, but to no avail. His intuition confirmed it: he had reverted to his Seer phase, a temporary cut-off. Once he exited this place, he would regain the Gray Fog. That thought brought a small measure of calm.
As he looked around, he noted the labyrinthine structure of the library. It twisted and turned in ways that defied observation, corridors bending and folding like the angles of a Weeping Angel, impossible to chart. And then it came back to him: “Right… in my head, there was something like a system. It called itself the Nightmare Spell.” Klein considered it carefully, walking deliberately through the maze. Though he occasionally ran into dead ends, his Seer instincts guided him, reassuring him that everything would be all right… or so he hoped.
Remembering the novels and webtoons he had read as a child, Klein concentrated, focusing on words like “status,” “myself,” and “information.” As he did, shimmering runes materialized in the air before him. Ancient letters, though entirely unfamiliar, conveyed their meaning as clearly as if they were written in his own mind—a language the system itself seemed to translate for him.
Klein allowed himself a small smile. He did not care that this might be one of ‘That Guy’s’ contrivances. This was extraordinary.
—
Name: Klein Moretti
True Name: –
Rank: Aspirant.
Class: Dormant.
Soul Cores: –
Soul Fragments: –
Memories: –
Echoes: –
Attributes: [Marked By Fate], [Echo of Divinity], [Seer's Whisper]
Aspect: [Gray Fog]
Aspect Description: [You are connected to a mysterious legendary being whom gods and daemons were wary of… your origin unknown your ever changing fate shrouded in fog of mystery; no one knows your true goal]
—
Klein was a bit excited as he was living his childhood dream of those system novels and webtoons. His intuition told him that his aspect should do something but he didn’t know what or how. Klein instead focuses his attention on his Attribute on his mind.
Attribute Name: [Marked by Fate]
Attribute Description: [The threads of destiny cling to you like an invisible shroud. Your life is a path both chosen and inevitable, and the world seems to bend subtly around your presence. Some will follow you unknowingly, others will collide with you as if the cosmos demanded it—but none can truly escape the mark you bear.]
Attribute Name: [Echo of Divinity]
Attribute Description: [Within your soul resonates the faint pulse of the divine. It is neither power nor command, but a lingering echo of truths too vast for mortals to fully grasp. In quiet moments, it whispers of the world as it truly is, hinting at forces beyond comprehension and granting fleeting glimpses of the eternal.]
Attribute Name: [Seer’s Whisper]
Attribute Description: [The world murmurs its secrets to you in a tongue few can hear. Dreams, omens, and subtle signs all converge into a single, silent voice that guides your steps. It does not dictate, but its counsel shapes the unseen currents of reality—and those who heed it may glimpse the path others cannot see.]
Klein understood what [Marked by Fate] meant. He’d always felt it—the subtle weight of destiny pressing on him, nudging, pushing, even when he tried to ignore it. Accepting it wasn’t exactly fun, but he knew protecting the people he cared about was worth every sacrifice, every uncertain step.
Even if one day he got replaced, erased, or completely forgotten, it didn’t matter. The threads of fate didn’t vanish; they carried his choices forward anyway, leaving marks in ways he might never see.
[Echo of Divinity] was trickier. It whispered of forces so far beyond normal understanding that even the cleverest humans couldn’t wrap their heads around them. Maybe it came from “Him”, or maybe it was tied to the Sefirot Castle now under his control.
Then there was [Seer’s Whisper]. Subtle, relentless, threading through the chaos like a quiet current no one else could feel. Dreams, omens, tiny hints—all of it blended into a single, almost intangible voice guiding him. Divination wasn’t some unbeatable cheat code, but Klein knew one thing for sure: trusting it was the only way out.
Through danger, confusion, or the shifting labyrinth, he had to follow it. And if he did? He could see paths no one else could, dodge dangers invisible to others, and stumble onto opportunities that seemed to appear out of nowhere. He knew how to use it after all he was a former seer.
The library’s atmosphere shifted. Klein froze, his instincts screaming at him that he wasn’t alone anymore. The gray fog thickened, coiling around the shelves like it had suddenly grown teeth. Shadows stretched and warped in ways that made no sense, and the silence… it wasn’t normal. It felt alive.
Then they appeared. Multiple shrouded humanoid forms, flickering at the edges of his vision, emerging from the fog like corrupted reflections. Their floating, disembodied eyes glared at him from within tattered robes, faces hidden behind rotting parchment. Skeletal hands slithered through walls and shelves, reaching, testing, probing.
And then came the whispers. Soft at first, then louder, layered, fragmented—impossible to understand yet dripping with intent. Every hiss and murmur clawed at the back of Klein’s mind, filling him with a creeping paranoia. The fog seemed to pulse with them, hiding and revealing forms that shouldn’t exist, shapes that twisted and vanished when he looked directly.
Klein pressed himself against the nearest shelf, muscles tight, holding his breath. His heart hammered, and his mind ran a hundred steps ahead, mapping every possible escape, every safe move. The Seer’s whisper reminded him, quietly but insistently, to observe, wait, and trust what he could feel more than what he could see. Divination wasn’t all-powerful, but right now, it was the only thing keeping him alive.
Time stretched. Each second felt heavy, like the fog itself was pressing down on him. The library had become a maze of knowledge and death, and Klein knew it: one wrong step, one careless motion, and they would notice. And if they noticed… well, he didn’t even want to think about that.
End of Chapter One: Nightmare.