Alista stood alone in the oppressive quiet of the underground antechamber. He was crouched low, his boots crunching on the cold stone floor as he hovered over the ancient mural. The silver serpent and the dying spiders stared back at him with a frozen, mocking intensity.
Without hesitation, Alista raised his blade. He didn't strike with finesse; he struck with the intent to shatter. The steel collided with the stone, and the mural erupted into a flurry of jagged shards. The conceptual weight that had been pressing against the air—the feeling of a record ready to skip back to the beginning—snapped like a tension wire.
The loop was broken.
Alista stared at the rubble, his mind racing through forbidden knowledge. 'It's undeniable now. A Sequence 1 Angel of the Wheel of Fortune pathway visited this world. They didn't just pass through; they fought. They fought Weaver himself.' He touched a fragment of the stone snake. 'I wonder... who actually walked away from that collision?'
He shook off the chill of the thought and stood up, his voice echoing back up the passage. "Come in, guys. The mural is destroyed. The cycle is over."
Slowly, the others stepped into the ghostly light of the lower chamber. Fors was the first to arrive, her keen eyes immediately locking onto the shattered remains of the carving. Her pupils dilated, and her breath hitched as she sensed the lingering, divine residue of the conflict that had once taken place there. Alista caught her gaze but remained silent; some secrets were too heavy to share aloud.
Artemis stepped in next, her hand resting on her sword hilt as she surveyed the wreckage. "Who could have thought?" she mused, her voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and irritation. "A single slab of stone caused such a monumental mess. It's absurd."
Gwen, still pale but no longer trembling, raised her hands to signal: [Let's just get the memory and get out of here. This place feels like it's waiting for us to stay forever.]
The cohort moved as one toward the massive black steel doors at the end of the hall. With their combined strength, they forced the ancient hinges to groan and give way. The doors swung open, revealing a small, circular sanctuary that had been sealed for an eternity.
Inside, the air was stagnant and smelled of ancient, dry rot. Two corpses sat in the center of a complex, glowing ritual circle. They were both human in shape, yet their remains had been preserved in a state of horrific decay, chained to the stone floor with links of black iron.
One corpse wore a mask that seemed to shift its expression even in death—a face of carved, mocking tragedy. The other corpse held a six-faced dice gripped tightly in its skeletal hand, the ivory yellowed by time.
Alista felt a jolt of genuine shock. 'Chained? Chained inside a circle of power?' His mind reeled as he looked at the scene. 'Okay, seriously... who screwed this world up this badly?'
Fors moved toward the masked figure while Alista stepped toward the one with the dice. They reached down simultaneously
[You have recieved a Memory:Lucky Rolls]
Alista Immediately summoned his memory and runes:
Memory Name: Lucky Rolls
Memory Rank: Divine.
Memory Tier: VII.
Memory Type: Tool.
Memory Description: [Snake Mercury is epitomy of fate,"He" came here for knowledge but met with a resistance,No one knew How deal with him.Even gods and Weaver couldnt handle him,This changes the probability and brings danger to others,The Oracles felt blind for him]
(Enchantments:[Luck Changes][Calamity Attraction][Anti-Divine])
[Alista's POV]
Alista blinked, shaking off the sudden vertigo that came from touching the ancient bone-white dice. He turned to the others, only to find them gathered around Fors. They weren't looking at her, but at the mask she held—a relic of tragic beauty that seemed to pull the light from the room.
As they peered into the ether to read the shimmering runes associated with the items, a heavy, suffocating silence fell over the chamber. One by one, their faces shifted from curiosity to sheer, unadulterated shock.
"No wonder," Klaus whispered, his voice cracking with awe. "It's a Divine Memory. A Tier beyond anything I thought existed in this hellhole. But what about the other one? What about the dice?"
Alista nodded, his fingers tightening around the six-sided artifact. The runes burned into his mind, confirming the impossible. It wasn't just a powerful tool; it was a fragment of a higher authority.
Artemis, usually the most composed of the group, took a shaky step forward. Her eyes were fixed on the dice in Alista's hand, a strange hunger warring with her discipline. "Alista... is it possible to sell that to the Valor Clan? If you bring that back to the waking world, my family will pay you any price you name. Name your kingdom, and it's yours."
Alista's head snapped up. A surge of cold, sharp rage flickered in his eyes, causing the temperature in the room to drop. "Do you really think," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low growl, "that I would sell something like this? To them?"
Artemis recoiled as if struck, her face paling. She looked down at the floor, the weight of her family's greed momentarily shaming her. "I... I'm sorry. I should have known better. I spoke out of turn."
Fors cleared her throat, breaking the tension. She held up the mask, her eyes scanning the invisible text only they could see. "Forget the politics for a second. Alista, what exactly does your Memory do?"
"Luck Manipulation," Alista replied shortly, trying to steady his breathing. "In its purest form. I'll need time to test the mechanics, but it essentially allows me to tilt the scales of probability. However, we have a bigger problem. The loop distorted our sense of time."
He looked at the group, his command tone returning. "Everyone, get to the surface. Check the settlements and let me know exactly how much time has passed in the outside world. Fors and I will scour this chamber for anything else we might have missed."
Klaus, Gwen, and Artemis nodded, eager to leave the oppressive atmosphere of the tomb. As their footsteps faded up the spiral stairs, only Alista and Fors remained in the ghostly glow of the torches.
Alista turned to Fors and, with a thought, shared the detailed description of the dice's runes with her. As she read the hidden history attached to the item, she let out a series of audible gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.
"Seriously?" Fors hissed, her eyes wide. "A fucking Sequence 1 Angel came here? To the Forgotten Shore? And they fought with Weaver? According to these runes and that mural... this wasn't just a skirmish. This was a war of concepts. Alista, what the hell is happening to this world?"
Alista rubbed his temples, feeling the onset of a massive headache. "I don't know. First, we find traces of Adam and Klein, and now this. The barriers between our realities are thinner than I thought. We need to keep this deep down, Fors. If the Great Clans or the Sovereigns find out about the presence of the Wheel of Fortune, they'll turn this place into a slaughterhouse."
Fors leaned against a chained corpse, her expression thoughtful. "It seems Sunless wasn't destined to find this place. Or maybe he just got lucky. Do you think he would have even survived that loop if we hadn't been here?"
"Maybe," Alista mused. "But his 'luck' is different. He's tied to Fate. This loop was designed to mock it. But the real question is—which Sequence 1 Angel do you think it was?"
Fors didn't hesitate. "I think it was Ouroboros."
Alista's eyes widened. "Why him specifically?"
"The timeline matches," Fors explained, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Ouroboros is the oldest, the most stagnant. He was present during the era of the Ancient Sun God. He's obsessed with circles, with the repetition of the end and the beginning. It fits his profile perfectly."
Alista nodded slowly. "It makes sense. From the visions in my First Nightmare, it seemed 'He' had temples. People worshipped him as a god of the cycle. But why come here? Why fight a Daemon of the Dream Realm?"
"We need to trace the history," Fors said, looking toward the exit. "But for that, we need to get out of this hellhole first. Since these two titans fought... who do you think won?"
Alista looked at the two chained, rotting corpses in the center of the room. "Power-wise, a Sequence 1 Angel of the Wheel of Fortune is a different kind of beast. They are the masters of the 'Probability of Success.' But Weaver... Weaver is nefarious. He doesn't play the game; he knits the board. I think we're standing in the aftermath of a stalemate that broke the world."
As they prepared to leave, Alista began carefully gathering the jagged shards of the broken mural.
Fors raised an eyebrow. "Is that really necessary? It's just rubble now."
"This 'rubble' contains the residual power of a Sequence 1," Alista countered, stowing a particularly sharp fragment of the silver snake into his satchel. "I'd rather have it and not need it than leave a breadcrumb for Gunlaug to find."
Fors rolled her eyes, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Okay... nerd."
"Seriously, Grandma?" Alista retorted, a hint of his old wit returning.
Meanwhile, Klaus, Gwen, and Artemis were moving quickly through the lower tiers toward the Outer Settlements. As they descended, the atmosphere changed. The usual lethargy of the slums had been replaced by a frantic, buzzing energy. People were huddled in groups, their faces tight with anxiety.
Artemis frowned, her hand instinctively going to her sword. "Something is wrong. We were inside that loop for an hour, maybe two at most. Why is everyone acting like the world ended?"
Klaus spotted a familiar face in the crowd—a scavenger named Sam who often traded information for food. He intercepted him, grabbing the man's shoulder. "Sam! Hey! What's with the panic?"
Sam looked at Klaus, his eyes bulging with shock. He nearly dropped the crate he was carrying. "Klaus? Where the hell have you been?! You guys have been missing for three days! Everyone thought you were dead or taken by the Castle!"
The trio froze. Artemis, Gwen, and Klaus all shared the same terrifying thought: Three days?
"Three days..." Klaus muttered, his face turning pale. "The time dilation wasn't just in our heads. Okay, talk to me, Sam. What happened while we were gone? Why is everyone terrified?"
Sam leaned in, lowering his voice to a fearful whisper. "It started yesterday. A group of hunters found a body near the North Wall. It was one of the elite guards from the Bright Castle. A guy named Harper."
"Harper?" Klaus repeated.
"He didn't just die, Klaus," Sam said, his hands trembling. "He was... displayed. And now Gunlaug is looking for someone to blame. The peace is over."