Atlas was acutely aware he was dreaming again. Flames surrounded him—not in a ring, but spread through a city, a city being devoured by fire. He could hear screams, cries, and pleas for help echoing through the inferno.
The sky was thick with smoke, but he could still see the night sky above. A red moon loomed ominously, casting its crimson light over everything.
He could feel, almost instinctively, a river flowing somewhere nearby, filled with darkness and death. He shivered, hearing the cries rising from it. He wasn't ready for this.
For the past week, Atlas had returned to this place in his dreams. They were vivid, too vivid to dismiss as ordinary; he remembered every detail upon waking. It was clear to him that this was no simple dream.
At first, he thought he was alone in this hellscape—until he turned and saw a blurry figure not far off.
When he first visited this place in his dreams, he'd explored the surroundings and found no one else, just the eerie screams. Initially, he believed they were illusions, but his perception changed after reliving the dream again and again.
The screams came from the river, a river he could sense but never locate. Each time he returned to the dream, the screams sounded different, new voices taking the place of the old. He hypothesized that the river washed away the echoes of the past, only to fill with new cries.
Atlas focused on the blurred figure. It was indistinct, but he could sense its agony, as though it was trying to communicate. The figure's screams were eternal, each one sending waves of agony through Atlas's body, turning his mind to mush and pulling him toward madness.
He'd tried, more than once, to communicate with the figure, but all attempts failed. Eventually, he found himself running from it.
No matter how he tried to flee, the figure always caught up. He braced himself for the inevitable onslaught, but this time, something different happened. He could understand its words.
"River of Eternal Darkness… River of Eternal Darkness…"
The words stirred something in his mind, an ancient memory. The River of Eternal Darkness—it was one of the "Sefirot."
Atlas was stunned. Could this really be the River of Eternal Darkness? Wasn't it sealed away on the Western Continent?
He woke abruptly, panting. Outside, a red moon still hung in the night sky. The sounds of the night—wind rustling, insects screeching—filtered into his senses.
As he caught his breath, fragments of memory began to surface, fragments that astonished him.
Before his transmigration, he had been an ordinary corporate worker, a "slave" to his job who took pleasure in a few novels. Seeking excitement, he had tried a "luck enhancement ritual" from his favorite story, Lord of the Mysteries.
Just after performing the ritual, his world changed. Flames had descended upon his apartment, engulfing him. He'd woken in this world, haunted by the dreams of that fiery city.
But his memories now hinted at a different truth. When he first transmigrated, he had started to mutate, his body on the verge of corruption. A dark essence surrounded him then, which he now suspected was the River of Eternal Darkness.
This essence halted his corruption and restored his human form—but at a price. It had tied him to the dreams of that mysterious place.
'So, from what I can gather, after performing the ritual, 'She' descended upon me. My best guess is I'm part of her revival plan.
He soon considered the problem of his corruption. 'The River of Eternal Darkness is only suppressing it. I would need to start ascending to combat it. I may even have to go into a deep slumber, like Klein, to resist 'Her' influence and corruption.'
Not ascending isn't an option. If I don't, I'll be helpless against 'Her.' But if I ascend, there's a chance to fight back'
Atlas laughed to himself. This journey was going to be interesting, to say the least. If he died or was replaced, so be it—at least he would live a life he could be proud of.
Currently, he was in the Kingdom of Loen, in the capital city of Backlund. He had a few Beyonder powers already, such as glimpsing imaginary beings and understanding aspects of the human body. Yet he had no memory of encountering a sealed artifact, much less consuming a potion.
This troubled him deeply. He couldn't explain where his powers came from. Another mystery lay in his fragmented memory. He could recall everything up to a thousand chapters in Lord of the Mysteries, but the later chapters were hazy. He understood quickly that this memory loss was likely a form of protection.
The River of Eternal Darkness had probably wiped those parts of his memory to shield him, allowing them to return only once he climbed a high enough sequence.
Suddenly, a splitting headache clawed at him, as if his mind were being ripped from his body. His soul began to feel unstable. This wasn't corruption; it was the aftermath of hearing that entity's words.
Struggling to hold onto his sanity, Atlas grasped at one possible solution. Desperately, he tried his best to focus and recited in Hermes,
"The Fool who does not belong to this era;
You are the mysterious ruler above the gray fog;
You are the King in Yellow and Black who wields good luck.
I pray for you to open the gates of your kingdom."
This was his only hope. The current date was July 1349; he recalled that Klein had crossed over around this time.
Time was running out. He could feel himself on the edge of losing control.
With a last, desperate effort, Atlas repeated The Fool's honorific name over and over. Just as he was about to fall into complete madness, he felt himself pulled into a layer of gray fog, transported to a grand hall.
The madness dissipated instantly, his mind settling into calm.
Looking around, Atlas saw he was seated at an ancient, mottled bronze table. At the far end sat a blurred figure. Atlas grinned at the sight of this figure.
_______
The introduction was copied from LOTM: New Black Emperor so credits for that. I'm pretty shit at writing intros so yeah but the other concepts will be different