The battlefield between humans and elves fell silent, with all eyes—human and elf alike—fixed on the mythological creature form of the Angel of Dreams.
It was bizarre, unlike any known mythological creature, making it impossible to deduce Truman's sequence or pathway.
Typically, a mythological creature form carries intense corruption, causing ordinary minds to collapse or die with a single glance.
Yet this form lacked that effect. It could be gazed upon directly.
"Those who behold the Dream shall become its believers?" A strange glint of amusement flashed in Truman's eyes. This was compulsory, even more exaggerated than the Sun pathway's proselytizing.
At the same time, demigods and angels who gazed upon the Dream Body felt a warning in their hearts and immediately averted their eyes.
If they stared long enough, their faith would shift as well.
Truman retracted his mythological creature form, reverting to human appearance, and looked up at the Elf King, who had locked onto him, ready to unleash another lightning storm.
The Elf King likely hadn't anticipated this scene. Even amid his standoff with the Ancient Sun God, he still cast his gaze toward Truman.
In that gaze filled with violent and destructive intent, Truman opened the fourth page of the Book of Dreams.
The page had fully manifested the moment his Dream Body took shape, signifying deeper mastery over the Book of Dreams.
This was something he'd sought for centuries but could never fully grasp until now.
Now, Truman understood why.
"Myriad," Truman named the authority recorded in the book. It symbolized the intricate, infinite complexity of reality, the Spirit World, and the Astral World.
It represented the ever-changing, boundless possibilities of the "Dream" authority.
Just as fate has countless branching paths, only when Truman made a choice did fate take concrete form.
"Elf," Truman chose as his transformation.
In the next instant, his spirit, body, and even fate transformed.
His eyes became deep blue, like the ocean; his hair took on the hues of lightning and sea.
He truly became an elf—even an Elf King!
"Lightning Storm!"
Following a sudden surge of violent desire within, Truman snapped his fingers.
A lightning storm, capable of destroying a continent and causing planetary catastrophe, formed at his snap, striking the Elf King!
"Blasphemer! You dare steal my authority?!" The Elf King roared, likely never struck by lightning since gaining sentience.
But this divine-level lightning storm was undeniably real, no less potent than the one the Elf King himself had unleashed.
Boom!
A boundary shattered before Truman's eyes. In that moment, he seemed to become the storm itself, wielding an ancient god's rank!
"Tsunami… ugh!" Truman suddenly felt a void, and his Elf King form dissipated instantly!
"Knowledge and understanding," Truman quickly identified the cause. He had mastered a true god-level lightning storm, but only that.
This was the limitation of the "Myriad" authority: he couldn't transform into something he hadn't fully comprehended, possessing rank without full authority.
"Right now, I'm a true 'demigod,' half a true god, or perhaps a 'false god'?"
Truman soon realized the path to gaining true god authorities—a form of "stealing" or "replicating," with an unimaginably high ceiling.
The method was simple: as with the lightning storm, being struck once was enough to understand it.
"I've truly become a 'blasphemer.'"
Truman locked eyes with the Elf King, his gaze gleaming. If the Elf King struck him a few more times, who'd be the real Elf King?
"Damn it!" The Elf King glared at Truman from the Astral World, but his ancient god instincts told him not to unleash another divine punishment, aware of how this blasphemer stole his authority.
"Come hit me!" Truman taunted, and Medici was in awe—true provocation should be this straightforward.
The Elf King's eyes burned with fury, but he knew ignoring Truman was the best course.
"Let me handle this," a voice said in Truman's ear.
Truman looked toward the Creator's divine kingdom, where a sun was slowly rising into the Astral World.
The Ancient Sun God was taking action personally to reclaim the Elf King's authority.
Of course, there was a slight chance he didn't want an authority he hadn't yet claimed to be stolen…
"Tch, pity!" Truman clicked his tongue like Medici, knowing the divine war's outcome. The Elf King was likely doomed.
He'd never find such a perfect provocation target again.
"The war should end," Truman said, landing at the heart of the clashing human and elf armies.
"You know what I mean," Truman said, looking at the Queen of Calamity.
Cohinem, the Queen of Calamity, gazed up at the divine war in the Astral World, her eyes filled with irrepressible fear.
"How is this possible…" Her eyes seemed to lose all color.
Truman didn't need to look to know the scene in the Astral World.
His Black Emperor Crown and Scroll of Civilization had already been "grazed" by the Ancient Sun God.
Add to that the newly acquired Arbiter pathway Uniqueness, the Brass Book, the Error pathway Uniqueness, and even the Blasphemer Slate.
These Uniquenesses had been integrated into virtual personas derived from the Chaos Sea, akin to living entities, capable of being "grazed."
Clad in divine artifacts, the Ancient Sun God's mastered authorities were infinitely close to "omnipotence."
In that chaotic sea, the Ancient Sun God became a colossal light figure, as if holding up the heavens.
Within the light, distinct regions emerged: twisted lines, codified laws, the progress of civilization, and a giant clock.
These were manifestations of the "Distortion," "Order," "Civilization," and "Error" authorities.
This was likely the embodiment of "grazing" omnipotence. By grazing these Uniquenesses, the Ancient Sun God wielded their authorities.
Sunlight bathed every corner of the material world, and countless believers knelt, praying fervently.
"The Lord that Created Everything,
The Omnipotent and Omniscient, The Source of Everything Great, The Beginning and The End, The God of Gods,
Ruler of the vast Astral World."
The prayers of endless believers formed an ocean of faith, countless specks of light glowing, merging into the chaotic sea, stirring it ceaselessly. Phantoms of "White Tower," "Storm," and "Mind" emerged.
At this moment, the Ancient Sun God could be considered half an Old One.
Appearing now, the Ancient Sun God stood atop history's tide, wielding supreme dominion.
In contrast, the Elf King was visibly waning.
He still unleashed light-speed charges with endless seawater, his planet-piercing lightning blazing.
But it was futile.
Under the Chaos Sea and other mighty authorities' suppression, the Elf King's authorities were gradually stripped away.
He was utterly subdued, with no hope left.
"This is the tide of history," Truman said softly.
"The tide of history you've ordained?!" Cohinem snapped sharply.
(End of Chapter)