The newly minted Dream apprentice, Bethel, followed Truman back to the Dream Territory.
"Has Sasrir told you about me?" Truman asked Bethel.
Bethel was still in a daze, his typically stoic expression faltering slightly.
Being granted a surname by the Lord was an unimaginable honor, and now, being taken as a student by an angel felt like a dream.
"Your Highness… Teacher, you are the mightiest angel under the Lord, the embodiment of dreams, the light of tranquility in a mad world…"
"Stop!" Truman's mouth twitched. Hearing such praise in prayers was fine, but face-to-face, it was awkward and made him squirm.
"I'm asking why Sasrir recommended you to me."
"Oh…" Bethel realized he'd missed the point, tried to explain, but faltered. "…I don't know."
"Uh…" Sasrir just wanted to foist this apprentice on him.
"Hm, have you read The First Flame and Twins?"
"Those are two history books compiled by scholars in the divine kingdom, but honestly, they're poorly organized, stuffed with unreliable legends, and dreadfully long-winded."
Yet, undeniably, they recorded much surface-level information about the ancient gods' factions.
"Er…" Bethel's clear blue eyes flickered, his face showing a hint of embarrassment.
"Teacher, those two books were compiled by my father and me."
Oh? Truman was surprised.
"No wonder Sasrir recommended you," Truman nodded calmly, conveniently forgetting his earlier critique of the books.
"Then compile a list of all demigods and above from the ancient god races, along with their relationships," Truman instructed. Apprentices were used for such tasks.
Crafting a story required data on all demigods and above—a monumental undertaking that would put a perfect cap on the Second Epoch.
If Truman could consume a potion, "Visionary" would probably melt in his mouth.
"Yes!" Bethel nodded solemnly, his ability to organize ancient god history proving his competence.
"Also, if you have any questions about mysticism, feel free to ask. I'm new to teaching and not entirely sure how it works."
Truman thought for a moment, then crafted a Dream Emblem by hand and tossed it to Bethel.
"This is proof of being my student. Remember, you'll be a representative of the Dream, bound by its tenets!"
Bethel accepted the Dream Emblem with a serious yet excited expression.
Later, Truman was astonished by Bethel's sensitivity to history and his grasp of narrative progression.
If he'd chosen the Fool pathway, Bethel could've been an exceptional historian.
…
Under a certain force, history surged forward with fervent momentum, plunging the world into turmoil.
Elves, dragons, and the Creator's divine kingdom waged war against each other, igniting a conflict that swept the globe. Giants and phoenixes, unwilling to stay idle, coveted each other's characteristics.
Time seemed to rewind to the fiercest days of ancient god strife, with races clashing and war's intensity escalating yearly.
This was a war erupting from the grassroots, unstoppable even by ancient gods.
Using a single demigod as a spark, an entire race's demigods were drawn into a meticulously woven web of relationships.
Demigods were the backbone of every race, the link between ancient gods and their lower ranks.
Take the giants: the Giant King's gaze never fell on those below demigod, nor would his subordinate gods interact with a Sequence 5 giant.
Only demigods could enter a god's sight while remaining connected to the grassroots.
When demigods fell into conflict, the race's foundation shook.
With enough grassroots unrest, demigods mobilized, and angels took notice—naturally.
The war's intensity swiftly spread to subordinate gods and angels.
"It's time," Truman, in the Dream Territory, felt a sudden premonition, triggered by the Sage Robe's prophecy.
His mind sank into darkness. Suddenly, a heart-stopping thunderclap roared in his ears. Straining to open his eyes, Truman finally glimpsed a clearer vision.
Lightning pierced him.
"I got struck by lightning?" Truman was startled but not panicked.
The Elf King's lightning ran through him, yet couldn't kill him.
"The great Creator will reclaim all His authorities at the epoch's end, beginning with the elves."
Truman picked up the Pen of Alesouhod and wrote this line. The tide of history surged forward, and the rest was for them to shape.
"Bethel," Truman set down the pen and called out.
Decades had passed since Bethel became Truman's disciple. With the Dream's protection, his sequence progression was remarkably smooth.
Yet he never rushed, taking nearly a century, even with the Acting Method, to become a "Secret Sorcerer."
Yes, he was now a demigod.
"Teacher!" Bethel still looked youthful. His teacher always dressed young, so he, the disciple, couldn't appear too old.
"No need to compile those things anymore," Truman said. Bethel was mature enough, but his blue eyes still showed a flicker of shock.
He often slipped away to travel the world when Truman gave him breaks, experiencing the diverse city-states.
He could see, in books and reality, signs of an era on the verge of change.
Over the years, he'd realized the gravity of his work.
"They're just things to be swept into history's dustbin," Truman said, standing and putting away the Pen of Alesouhod.
"Teacher, where are you going?" Bethel couldn't help asking, guessing something. The epic weight of it stirred his emotions.
"To stir trouble with the elves," Truman grinned. "If you're interested, join the fight—for the Creator and our human race."
"My student can't hide in the rear waiting for results," Truman encouraged.
As a "Secret Sorcerer," Bethel was powerful enough to hold his own.
His teacher, however, was so formidable that he overshadowed a prime demigod's brilliance.
"Yes!" Bethel's typically rigid face glowed with excitement, honored to partake in this historic moment.
"I'll head out first," Truman said, wandering off, arriving near the Elf Divine Kingdom.
This was a battlefield of human Beyonders and elves, where Beyonders from the Creator's Heaven waged a "holy war."
Medici, Leodero, Ouroboros, and other angels were present, indicating the war's intensity had reached the most terrifying level below divinity.
"Cohinem," Truman gazed at the Elf Queen standing among the elf army.
(End of Chapter)