Magister Insanity

Gathering information from the kind woman over the next hour or so, my understanding of this world deepened considerably.

First of all, I was now what one would call a Blasphemer (亵神者).

Originally, anyone who entered the Spire (虚) was labeled a Blasphemer. Over time, however, the title became reserved for those who had successfully completed the first phase. These individuals were considered offenders, those who defied the laws of nature, the Gods themselves, by seizing forbidden power.

The evolution path that measured the strength of a Blasphemer was known as the Circle of Metamorphosis, sometimes referred to as the Circle of Change.

For demons, their own evolutionary path was called Circle of Decay, focusing on profanity.

The first sequence along this path was called, aptly enough, "Dreamless."

These were the Sleepless: wandering into the unknown without guidance, direction, or purpose. In the ordinary world, we might call them Sleepwalkers.

If left unguided, they would inevitably fall. And any attempt to help them too abruptly could have the opposite effect. Like lost lambs, they had to find the correct path on their own.

Following that, the second sequence was called "Enlightened."

Of course, these were the Sleepless who had acquired knowledge and grown increasingly powerful. Like anyone who have acquired knowledge of the forbidden fruit, it was impossible to return until they learned even more. Hence, why they were called 'Enlightened.'

Moreover, if they chose to challenge the Second Phrase and survived, they would become "Inquisitors" — masters recognized by the Spire. They could leave the Soul Realm and return back whenever they desire. In fact, at that point, it was possible to stop and never return.

After all, who would want to spread their entire life in a place like this?

Then came those who had successfully cleared the Third Phrase, earning the right to become Transcendents. Anything or person with the word transcendent was bound to be ridiculously powerful, so that alone was self-explanatory.

But was that truly the peak? The woman had intentionally stopped there.

"Let me formally introduce myself. I am Inquisitor Ivy, but you can just simply call me Captain Ivy. Around these parts, I act as one of the Wardens: my duties also include protecting the fortress and punishing troublemakers. Do you understand?"

Her stare narrowed.

Without her saying a word, I understood the meaning behind her words. Forcing a smile, I said,

"No need to fluster. I don't plan to cause any trouble anyway."

She didn't look convinced.

"Even so, it's wise to take advice when you can. The rules of Niflheim are far more complex than those of the human world, so don't be deceived. Normally, crimes like theft and murder are punished severely. However, if you are suddenly challenged to a duel and invoke your mystic code, the wardens are compelled to stand aside, regardless of the duel's outcome."

A bit surprised, I muttered,

"If I'm understanding what you're saying correctly, then it's possible for someone to get away with murder?"

Her eyes hardened. Most likely, they had clearly witnessed countless people lose their lives.

"Unfortunately, yes. It is possible to kill someone legally through a Spell of Combat ritual. The challenger must invoke the Mystic Code of their opponent, and the challenged can either accept or decline. If they accept, the duel is fought to the death, until only one remains standing."

Captain Ivy paused, her voice taking on an incredibly stern edge. Her expression was scary.

"This is the most important piece of advice I can give you: whatever you do, never reveal your Mythic Code. Doing so will cost you dearly."

† †

Some time later, Ivy left the hospital room. Before she went, she remarked that I reeked of "death and blood." In other words, she basically said I smelled like shit, and truthfully, she wasn't wrong. After all, I was stranded on an enigmatic isle, surrounded by a crimson sea with barely any normal water in sight.

Of course, my body would smell like shit.

"Holy sh*t!"

Halfway through a warm shower, I froze and bolted to the toilet, clenching my stomach. What followed… well, let's just say the rest is history.

Whatever I had eaten on that island was finally taking its toll.

I was in the midst of a desperate, yet oddly satisfying, dump.

As the sound of water plopping echoed beneath me, my mind began to wander.

'Niflheim, huh?'

'I'm definitely far from home.'

'Still, better than sleeping with one eye open every night.

At least this place had air conditioning, and the air no longer felt thick and heavy. Strangely enough, after that torturous ordeal, I wasn't feeling hungry.

You'd think someone would be starving after going several days without anything substantial to eat.

Well… once I finished spilling everything out, that would surely build up a hunger.

"Ugh…!"

The situation intensified, so much so that I had to grip the toilet bowl with both hands. A big one was coming!

Seconds stretched into minutes.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed down with all the strength I could muster, willing my bowels to cooperate with my efforts.

"C'mon… c'mon…"

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the storm passed away, and immediately, a rush of relief hit me like a tidal wave. I slumped back, trying to catch my breath. My stomach gurgled ominously, a grim reminder that the ordeal wasn't entirely over.

"Damnit… looks like I'm going to be here a while longer."

Maybe I shouldn't have spoken so soon. Another thirty grueling minutes followed.

Stepping away from the stool, I approached the sink and washed my hands. After a few moments, I turned off the tap and reached for the towel. Coincidentally, I caught my reflection in the mirror.

The changes in my physique were subtle, but unmistakably profound.

My pale skin had taken on a faint, almost imperceptible glow, and my facial features had sharpened, lending me a quiet, unsettling symmetry. Muscles that were already lean now carried a latent strength, taut beneath the surface. My eyes, however, had grown darker still, like the depths of a bottomless sea.

Though appearance-wise, I wouldn't stand out on a crowded bus or subway station, my presence could still be felt.

If anything, I looked… more handsome.

Or perhaps that was just the narcissist in me speaking.

'How quaint. Is this the result of going against the laws of nature?'

Ordinary people would be outraged, calling it unfair. Normally, it was impossible for someone's appearance to change overnight or even within a few hours.

An unattractive person was doomed to remain unattractive, no matter how much makeup they wore, while the rich only grew richer.

That was the law of nature.

But did such a thing apply to Blasphemers? If this was how I looked as a Dreamless, how would I appear upon reaching the rank of Transcendent or, more realistically, Inquisitor?

Ivy was a blasphemer who had reached the rank of Captain and she looked absolutely stunning, more so than even those popular models and celebrities you see online. She had such an intense presence!

'Perhaps it's not that bad, after all.'

Staying here for a while didn't seem all that opposing.

And since I couldn't go back anyway, why not stay a little longer? Maybe I could even pick up a few useful tricks... and, if I was lucky, impress the ladies while I was at it.

Who am I kidding? Ha ha! Before something like that happens, this old man would have probably grown a beard. Maybe I should become a great sage!

Thinking this, a perverted smile appeared on my face. Then, as quickly as it came, faded away.

'But what am I going to do about that?'

Glancing at the toilet, it was undeniably blocked. Well… it wasn't going to be flushing anytime soon.

I scratched my cheek.

This was awkward. It's my first day here yet I have already blocked a toilet.

How am I even supposed to explain this? Could it be fixed somehow? And… why was it black?

From the reflection in the mirror, my shadow caught my eye. It seemed to be laughing, though no sound escaped, of course, since it had no vocal cords or organs to speak with.

I gritted my teeth.

"Damn it, stupid shadow! Are you mocking me? All of this is your fault, you know!"

Seemingly perplexed, the shadow pointed to itself, as though asking, "How is this my fault?"

My mouth opened several times, but no words came out. Though it was the shadow of a fallen evil deity, blaming all my misfortunes on it felt… unfair. Probably rightly so.

After all, it wasn't the shadow that dragged me into the Soul Realm against my will. It was the Spire!

Besdies, it was highly plausible I would have lost my life long before reaching the ruined temple atop the mountain. Nearly all of my abilities came from this shadow. In essence, if nothing else, it had been my greatest helper the entire time, probably the one who brought me here as well.

「 You fell from the sky. 」

Those words echoed in my mind, replaying over and over.

All things considered, I couldn't help but sigh.

"Wait… if I didn't come through the teleportation circle, then why did I fall from the sky in the first place? Did the Spire… drop me?"

But that made no sense. Why would the Spire choose to drop me from the sky instead of sending me through the circle normally?

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously and looked down.

"Hey. Do you have anything to do with our arrival here?"

The shadow shook its head.

So it didn't know? For some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't being entirely sincere.

But what exactly could a shadow do? Aside from expanding when darkness was present, it was completely harmless.

I wouldn't be surprised if it couldn't even damage a towel.

Two-dimensional objects couldn't interact with the third dimension... just as third-dimensional objects couldn't interact with the fourth.

Maybe I'd been asking the wrong question.

Conscious or not, the shadow was a manifestation of my Legacy Ability — part of me, literally. In other words, I was just asking myself the same question.

Then what was the cause of me randomly teleporting and falling from the sky?

Surely it couldn't be just my bad luck. Speaking of which… haven't I already suffered enough from atrocious luck? Thinking back, yeah, my luck really was that bad.

"..."

Everything felt so absurd that the strength in my legs suddenly gave out. The horribly foul stench wafting from the toilet didn't help matters either.

The shadow seemed at a loss, unsure what to do. Then, as if struck by an idea, it moved closer and gestured — "Don't give up!"—which, of course, only had the opposite effect.

What could be more depressing than being comforted by your own shadow?

"Such rotten luck."