From the cinders and ash, a hand rose. What remains of the burning forest is the charred wood and the burnt devastated soil. This is what greeted Archmage Kristopher Horton as he clean himself from the soot and dirt.

Through the FLAMES OF RESURRECTION spell— his 8th-tier magic, Horton was able to save himself at the last minute. It was a close call, but he managed to advance his level under the pressure of the near-death experience.

Horton can’t help but feel jovial as he is now the youngest 8th-tier mage in history. The festive occasion though should be put aside for now as he has better things to do.

Black hair, black eyes, and a youthful face. The mage he fought is certainly a cut above others. Horton wasn’t even able to cast his 7th-tier magic as he was reduced to a smidgen of dust.

He bit his mouth, regretful of his own prejudice. He shouldn’t have used 6th-tier magic at that time, but just went all out. Now, it is Horton’s highest priority to report the heathen.

Horton found himself naked, but that didn’t bother him. He strode in big steps, returning to where Harkhall was. Arriving there, he found an Empyrean Camp. Judging by the people milling around, through the insignia on their left upper chest, Horton realized that they belong to the Faceless Believer’s faction, the Pillar Council.

“Halt,” A Pillar Council Mage called to him. “Who are you? State your affiliation!”

Horton frowned at the disrespectful tone to him. Considering that he is currently naked, it is understandable, but it still irks Horton aware that he is now a fearsome 8th-tier. “Archmage Horton of the Royal Court. Bring me to the highest officer managing the camp.”

The mage in front of him nodded confirming that what he said is the truth. The mage must’ve cast LIE DETECTION, Horton figured.

Guided by the same mage, Horton was led to the camp. He was offered a comfy and clean robe which he declined. He’d rather be naked than wearing something as ugly as an ordinary mage’s robes.

“Aetherius!! What happened to you, Horton?” Horton looked at a familiar old man who called to him. If he remembers it correctly, this old man whom he was made acquaintance with in an Empyrean festivity back home is also an 8th-tier mage. Horton offered a simple bow to the old man.

Archmage Pizer of the Pillar Council, one of the most recent disciples of the Faceless Believer. He is a stout old man, honest, and straightforward.

Horton looked around inside the tent and found a gold statue of a mage waving a staff. He picked it up and transmuted it into a sleek sunny robe suitable for his status. “I advanced to the 8th tier. Fortunately, my luck hasn’t run out. I almost died under the magic of the heretic. Has dark eyes, dark hair, and fair skin. He is about 5’8 foot, a bit on the slim side, and shows a lack of emotion. He looks like he hasn’t arrived at the archmage level yet. We should put a bounty on his head.”

At Horton’s explanation, Pizer went quiet. The information Horton gave is proven to be quite crucial… especially now that the Faceless Believer is missing. “Thank you, but the decision is not in my hands.”

From out of nowhere, a woman revealed herself. She has lavender hair, ghostly verdant eyes, and an alluring figure. Horton recognized the woman instantly, the 9th-tier mage Varea Glein, one of the remaining earliest disciples of the Faceless Believer. She might not look like it, but she’s several folds much older than Pizer.

“Greetings,” With awe, Horton addressed Varea. “For the closest Saint candidate of the Faceless Believer to be here, I am honored.” Varea looked at him intently. It only now did Horton realized that there is something wrong with the atmosphere. He observed archmage Pizer who is tense and worried.

“Horton, return to Empyrea and report what happened here. The inviolable seats have gathered.” At Varea’s words, Horton started to become anxious.

Varea continued, handing a letter to the Faceless Believer. “Don’t bother reading it. It’s a formal letter of request for the Empyrean gods. I’ll just tell you why this mission is important.”

Horton nervously received the letter.

“The Faceless Believer has gone missing.” Varea turned her back away from Horton. “Oh, by the way. Congratulations on advancing to the 8th tier.” She added.

Horton imagined the letter as if it were a ticking time bomb. He sweated at the thought of meeting the Empyrean gods.

…

In barren ruins, 13 statues gathered in a circle facing each other. They represent each of the Empyrean gods. Magical fluctuations rose and fell like the coming of the seas’ tides. Mentality surged as each of the statues come to life one by one.

The Empyrean gods have convened the assembly of the 13 Inviolable Seats.

Seated on a throne, the God Emperor’s statue wearing a crown and cape moved its head. Rather than it, the statue is more of a 'he'. Possessed by the Emperor’s consciousness, he observed his surroundings. “Why don’t I feel the presence of the Faceless Believer?” He asked.

To his inquiry, a statue of a woman manacled to chains looked in the Emperor’s direction. It was the Bounded Maiden, another Empyrean god. “He must be hunting his kind, you know how he is… Marred with guilt, he slowly spirals out of control… then what? Turn his sword against us? Hah, such a pitiful god still clinging to his mortal pasts.” She sarcastically said, voicing her suspicion.

“Stop,” A wizened voice. “Maiden, I suggest you be cautious of your words.” The statue of an eyeless monk who fancies himself as the Fortune Teller reprimanded the Bounded Maiden in an attempt to protect the Faceless Believer.

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?” The matter won’t be just let go as another Empyrean god expressed its concern. “He’s a liability you are responsible. It’s a fact. Do remember that it was you, prophet, that brought him to our fold? And by extension is becoming a liability to us.” The statue of a giant sword, Chosen One, trembled at its every word.

At the Chosen One’s warning, the Fortune Teller flared up. “Shut up, you thing! I am no longer the Prophet, while it’s nostalgic, I’d appreciate it if you were to address me by my god name.”

Diffusing the situation, a feminine and calming voice permeated the ruins. “Calm down, you two.” It was the statue of a blindfolded woman holding a spear to her left and a scale to her right, she is Truth’s Advent. “Tell us, Fortune Teller, why did you ask for this assembly? Let’s not waste our time, shall we?” She added right on the heart of the matter.

The Inviolable Seats can be organized as per their ancient arrangement. Each Empyrean god has a right to convene once every 13 years— The Fortune Teller decisively asked for the seats to gather for he has very important news to tell.

“So what is it? A new vision? If it’s about the Seer, I am in!! I’d love to caress her butt… She’s my type, I am telling you. I still have portraits of her in my mansion.” With a joking tone, the statue of a female elf with uncanny eldritch features called dibs on the Seer. However the Empyrean god, Darkest Eclipse, can’t be more wrong.

“No, it isn’t a vision. If the seer is involved, I don’t know, but she might be.” The fortune Teller vaguely said, obviously doubting even his own words. “What I can tell, however…” He hung on his words further adding to the suspense.

“Is that… there’s a new variable…” He ultimately said.

The inside of the ruins immediately went quiet. They needed the time to process it in their minds. Variable, something that the Empyrean gods haven’t heard for a long time.

“It’s impossible,” The statue, Deprived Mind, in an image reminiscent of a 21st-century doctor reputed Fortune Teller’s words. “We’ve annihilated these variables already… We have made sure of that with the dark ages and the wars that followed, it’s nigh impossible that a variable still exists to this date. It’s not like variables copulate and multiply.” He added.

With a hoarse and sonorous cry, “DE.S.TROY-THE-VA.R.IA.BLE!!” The statue of World’s Adversity in the shape of a dragon visibly breathed flames from its snout.

“WE CERTAINLY WILL—” Eternal Life’s statue, in the shape of a tall tree, affirmed as what World’s Adversity said. The Ankh symbol on Eternal Life’s trunk burned crimson further emphasizing its emotions. There were anger, indignity, and a desire to destroy. “WHERE IS THE VARIABLE?” It demanded with its eerie deep voice.

"I'm not sure.” Fortune Teller somberly and slowly replied, every word he said next was imprinted in the minds of the Empyrean gods, "I believe the variable is nearing its completion into becoming a singularity.”

“If he does become a singularity, it will be a problem for us as his fate will then become too unreadable.” The Emperor opined, wishing to achieve a breakthrough as early as possible.

This is a crisis.

With his statue of a jester that was clumsily squatting, Imperfect Oddity suddenly decided to butt in. “What do you call a crying sister?” No one answered, but he doesn’t care anyway. “A crisis! HahaHAHAhahAHa!! A cry-sis—! Get it!? I stole that from the internet when I was still a small young lad. KahahHAhAHahaha!!”

“Can someone please make this whack job shut up?” Absolute Love whose statue was a seductively beautiful praying woman, can’t help herself but complain.

Death’s Door whose statue was that of a door with no knobs strictly scolded the jester. “Oddity, enough with the dumb jokes.”

Then came the addition of Good Friend, whose statue depicts a gentleman wearing a monocle. “It is okay, Oddity. We understand. Just be more behaved when we have gatherings like this, please.”

“…” Imperfect Oddity quietened down, silence once more invading the ruins.

Breaking the silence is the arrival of Horton. He nervously roamed the ruins until he got here— where all of the 13 Empyrean gods' statues gathered. He crawled forward while kneeling, his head bowed to the cold pavement.

Trying his best to hide his anxiety, Horton crawled at a moderate pace.

As a member of the Emperor’s faction, he faced the Emperor’s statue reverently still groveling on the ground. The God Emperor didn’t mind the arrival of the archmage as he too is curious why a mortal has come to meddle in their assembly.

“Speak,” The God Emperor’s voice echoed in the ruins hurting Horton’s mind as he was but a mortal. His archmage prowess is the only thing that kept him safe. If it were an ordinary mortal, he or she would’ve already exploded guts spilling everywhere. “I remember you, you are Kristopher Horton, a new addition to the Royal Court.”

“Yes, thank you, your majesty. I am in ecstasy as you had remembered my name.” Horton looked at the hard cold floor.

“Out with it.” The Emperor’s words rang in Horton’s ears painfully.

As the Emperor demanded, Horton spoke his part in hopes that he can finish this mission safely. “I’ve come to deliver a formal letter of request from the Believer’s one of his earliest disciples.”

“Read it.” The Emperor perfunctorily commanded.

Still groveling in the ground, Horton took a deep breath and opened the sealed parchment, then… he read its contents out loud.

“Dear your excellencies, the 13 or rather the 12 Empyrean Gods. I, Varea Glein, 9th-tier mage and a direct disciple of the Faceless Believer beseech you to aid us in finding our missing God.

As a faithful believer, I’ve dedicated my life, flesh, and soul to my God and his pantheon. The faith I hold is eternal, however, that’s only true when the Faceless Believer is in it. Our God won’t abandon us, as such, we will hold firm to our faith. That’s why I come to our God’s pantheon to ask for your full aid. If you Gods want to hear the full story, Archmage Horton is able enough to give his report.

Lastly, if our God isn’t found. Riots might implode, and might precipitously put our empire in danger. That’s all, may Aetherius guide us.

Sincerely, 6th Faceless Disciple, Varea Glein.”

Horton sweated and shuddered on his feet as he finished reading the letter. He secretly glanced at the statues of the Empyrean gods, but he can’t get anything from their stony visages that lacked any sort of facial expressions as expected of statues.

Horton is confident that he will die in the most horrible way imaginable. The chances are dramatically rising as the silence continued. With the open threat of a riot, Varea's statements are pointed, demanding, and dead on.

“Where did Captain Hook buy his second hook?” Imperfect Oddity abruptly asked. To who, Horton doesn’t know so he gave a panicky answer. “E-excuse me?”

That’s when suddenly, Horton’s right arm, from the hand to the elbow, was cleanly cut off.

“HahahahaHAhAHHAHAHAH!” Imperfect Oddity’s laughter reverberated in the ruins as the pain slowly registers to Horton. “At the Second Hand Store! That’s the answer folks, I got a good laugh out of that one.” Oddity explained his joke as if it were worthy of any of his fellow gods’ attention.

Horton suppressed his cry. He didn’t even dare to use any magic to heal his cut-off arm. He let the pain torture him, and the blood flow.

Good Friend sighed at Oddity’s childishness and with a thought reattached Horton’s arm easily without any side effects as if the pain didn’t even happen. “Speak, child. Tell us what you saw.”

Horton felt a sense of relief as even the memories of the pain that was inflicted vanished into nothingness. “Thank you for your grace, your excellency.” He changed his angle of groveling to face Good Friend’s statue to express his gratitude further.

After that, he faced the Emperor’s statue with deference while still in his groveling position. This is a show of loyalty and faith in his God. This is proper manners in Empyrean religiosity.

“Your excellencies, I was an acting aide for the Faceless Believer as per the Emperor’s command in order to fulfill the decree. Arriving at Harkhall, the Believer captured a new kind of elf that possesses snow-white skin, enormous vitality, and a level of magic immunity. The said elf… has also gone missing.

After that, we immediately proceeded with the hunt. Mages were sent for the search, and they found someone— their numbers were uncertain. However, one of them has been identified for now. Has dark hair, dark eyes, and also fair skin. We suspect this heretic is responsible for the disappearance of the Faceless Believer.”

Horton ended his report in one breath, not too fast and not too slow. He spoke only of the salient points, leaving out the irrelevant details. In a sense, it worked to his advantage as he doesn’t need to tell the Empyrean gods about his shameful death.

If the Empyrean gods want further detailed information, they could easily get it from their trusted aides.

Horton remained in his groveling posture wishing for his report to quickly end.

Sadly, the Fortune Teller wants to hear more. “Horton, is it? Look at me, and tell me… What is your opinion of this heretic?”

Horton swallowed his saliva as he slowly raise his head. He didn’t need to think for long as he found the right words to describe the heretic. “He is… a mysterious mage.” He dreadfully whispered.