Lord of the Mysteries: I'm Not Evil God

Chapter 18: The Fool and the Impossible

Perspective: Klein Moretti / The Fool

In the silence between seconds, Klein sat on his throne in the Gray Fog.

Cards still hovered.

The candlelight still burned.

The shadows had not moved.

And yet, something felt… off.

"So he was never trying to fight me," Klein murmured. "He only needed me to stay distracted."

He looked at the scene before him — the echo of the last few minutes playing out again in the cards.

Velkaris hadn't challenged Klein.

Hadn't attempted to steal power.

He had simply waited.

Waited until the Fool was busy with Amon.

Waited until the tide of the divine game pulled Klein's attention away from the one piece that mattered:

Eiren.

"So I was the fool after all," Klein whispered, almost laughing.

And Amon, of course, was smiling.

Amon stood several feet away, perfectly composed, flipping a gold coin between his fingers.

"It's always the most elegant trick, isn't it?" Amon said softly. "Make the smartest person ignore the quietest moment."

"You fought me, Klein. But the lie wasn't here."

"It was there—"

He pointed down.

But there was no direction in the Fog.

Still, Klein understood.

"Velkaris didn't need to deceive the world," Klein muttered.

"He just needed to deceive me."

And then—

It began.

A shiver, like the Gray Fog itself was being pierced.

A breathless stillness.

Then—

The Throne trembled.

Not Klein's throne.

But something else.

Something new.

Something that had no source in the original twenty-two pathways.

No anchor in any of the eight pillars.

No place in the divine symphony.

"Do you feel that?" Amon asked, almost reverent. "That isn't just divinity."

"It's contradiction."

A single card fluttered off Klein's table.

The Hanged Man.

But its face had changed.

It now bore an image of a mask, split down the middle — one side smiling, the other weeping — and inside the mask's hollow face, a mirrored eye stared back.

"He's not ascending," Klein said, rising to his feet.

"He's fusing."

"No," Amon corrected gently. "He's becoming."

Far Below...

In the place where names are melted into archetypes, a throne was forming from reflected possibilities.

One chair.

Three shadows.

And one presence.

Something that was not Velkaris.

Not Lyra.

Not Eiren.

But all of them—and something more.

A divine pulse rippled backward through time and forward through myth.

In the fog, Klein clenched his fist.

"That shouldn't be possible," he said aloud.

"No new pathways. No new Sefirah."

"Not without... a higher authority."

Amon raised an eyebrow, then gave a shrug.

"Unless belief itself gave birth to a Sefirah."

"After all," he added with a smirk, "the first lie is the most powerful truth."

Klein narrowed his eyes.

"Then I need to find him," he said.

"Before belief finishes the job."

The Gray Fog howled.

A divine map rewrote itself.

A new axis was forming — a point where three conflicting truths met, fought, and finally… converged.

And Klein, the Fool, who once thought he held the board, now found himself—

Playing catch-up in a game someone else wrote.

End of Chapter 18