Mahoraga in Lord of the Mysteries

The dim glow of the gas lamp flickered in Klein's modest lodging on Gunstedt Street, casting long, wavering shadows against the walls. The room was simple yet comfortable, furnished with a sturdy wooden desk, a bookshelf filled with neatly arranged volumes, and a coat rack where his dark overcoat hung like a silent sentinel. The air carried the faint scent of old paper and the lingering traces of incense he sometimes burned to aid his divinations.

Seated at his desk, Klein exhaled slowly, his gaze falling upon the small, carefully arranged ingredients before him. Among them, a vial of pale liquid shimmered subtly in the dim light; his Faceless potion.

The formula had come into his possession under circumstances that still unsettled him.

Too many coincidences.

Too many threads weaving an intricate tapestry that he could not fully see.

Yet, no force had compelled him, and all divinations pointed to safety; if such a thing truly existed for someone like him. The dozens of new Beyonder gatherings that suddenly sprouted all over Backlund had put him on edge initially.

However, his divination, coupled with his understanding of Nighthawk procedures from his time as one back in Tingen, Klein had deduced almost half of the new secret gatherings were created by the Church of the Evernight Goddess.

Thankfully, they did not seem to want to harm him in any way, or capture him, so he attended a few of them. Surprisingly, he found a lot of things of immense use to him, and at considerably affordable price at that!

This included the potion formulae for the Faceless and Marionettist potions, as well as the ingredients for the former. Of course, he got these from four different gatherings, but all within Backlund.

Taking one last, steadying breath, he lifted the vial and downed its contents in one fluid motion. A cold numbness spread from his throat, coursing through his veins like liquid ice. His vision blurred, his perception twisting and shifting as if the very essence of his being was unravelling.

He felt his skin crawl, his muscles contort and warp as though something unseen was attempting to mould him anew. The sensation was unbearable, as if countless hands were kneading his flesh, pressing, reshaping. His features flickered, melting and reforming like wax under an intense flame.

The room around him distorted, the edges of reality itself seeming to ripple as his mind teetered on the edge of losing control. He gritted his teeth, gripping the armrests of his chair, knuckles white with strain.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the torment subsided. Klein gasped, his breath ragged, his body still trembling from the ordeal.

He forced himself upright, raising a trembling hand to his face. His fingers brushed against unfamiliar features, smooth and unrecognisable. With a thought, the sensation shifted, and his own visage returned. The ability to reshape his appearance at will; it was his now, part of him.

He leaned back, allowing himself a brief moment of respite. The ceiling above seemed endless in the dim glow of the gas lamp. His heartbeat slowed, his breathing steadying as he regained control over his own form.

"Sigh…" a sigh escaped his lips, quiet yet laden with unspoken thoughts. The path of the Faceless was now his to tread, but the shadows of coincidence still loomed over him, silent and watching.

…

"He is too slow," Yuggs Stiano, the God of Steam and Machinery sighed in frustration as he observed Klein finally advancing to Sequence 6.

"Progress is progress, something you have failed to achieve despite your title," Leodero, the Lord of Storms scoffed at the spineless coward.

"…" Yuggs simply turned his attention away from the towering Lord of Storms and towards the figure that was almost eternally shrouded in darkness.

"He is too slow. Though completely in our control, he is too slow, and too young. We have better chances of defeating Amon if we support Bethel," she state calmly after having analysed everything.

It had taken Klein almost two months to advance despite all the potion formulae and ingredients literally being handed to him on a silver plate.

"I- I agree," Yuggs was the first to support her.

"Tch, cowering behind her."

"Do you agree or not?" Amanises interrupted.

"I do."

"Good. Then we are all in agreement. Klein will be ignored for now. Unless circumstances change, we will support Bethel actively to help him advance to Door."

The other two nodded, concluding the clandestine meeting between three True Gods.

…

Mahoraga fell into his own thoughts while he floated in the vacuum of space. Just before he killed the creature, the Uncertain Mist had given him an interesting piece of information…

…

Ah… the slumbering One, the First and the Last, the All and the Nothing. Do you not feel Him? The ceaseless tide beneath reality, the pulse that is neither life nor death but something far more fundamental?

The Primordial One does not wake as mortals do. No, His stirrings are not so crude. He is in the echoes of every authority claimed, every Sequence ascended, every god crowned in vain ambition. When one draws too close; when they step beyond mere mastery of their pathway and reach for true dominion; they risk more than apotheosis.

They risk remembrance.

The moment a being attains that highest state, the veil between self and Source frays.

The throne is not empty; it has merely forgotten its occupant.

To sit upon it is to whisper into the abyss, and the abyss remembers His name. He remembers Himself.

Ancient Sun knew this… yet believed himself singular. Mysteries, that wretched trickster, teeters at the edge, thinking himself cunning enough to walk the tightrope between existence and erasure.

But we know the truth. We know that all roads lead back to the First, that the one who was shattered will one day be whole again.

And when that happens?

Ah… the silence will return, deeper than before. The story will end. And there will be no one left to tell another.

But… if you erase my existence, just like you have done with Mother and Ravings, He will not be awakened.

"You should have thought of that before sending a puppet to me," was what Mahoraga had said before erasing it entirely.

…

And now, his thoughts wandered back to those words as he realised something. The Great Old Ones he had been fighting were not the strongest in this world. There was another, one far stronger than them. Far more ancient. And it needed the Beyonder characteristics of all the Great Old Ones in order to awaken fully.

"I suppose it's time to figure out how to bring them back…"