The merchant Lanmere.
Siles hadn’t expected to encounter this name here.
This was a character card from the tabletop RPG game he had been playing before his death. The player using this character card at the time was one of Siles’s friends.
When they were playing the game, Siles’s friend had broken out of the game’s framework to complain to them that this merchant character card’s spirituality was way too high. He was clearly just a merchant—why would he have such high spirituality?
With such high spirituality, constantly encountering all sorts of strange events, wasn’t that too difficult to play!
After truly coming to this world and hearing about some matters related to the merchant Lanmere, Siles developed a hypothesis: perhaps this was related to his traveling year-round in the Ashless Lands?
The Ashless Lands—that land shrouded in grayish-black fog—what secrets did it hide?
Siles felt somewhat curious. But at this moment, he had no time to think so much. He had originally wanted to browse more, to see if there were maps of Lafami City for sale here, but now he had no time to think about this matter either.
He hurriedly took out his wallet, spent one Marquis Coin to buy this travelogue about the Ashless Lands, then quickly bid farewell to the stall owner and hastily left the large bookstore.
Only when he walked out did he barely breathe a sigh of relief. However, Atherton Square still had numerous crowds, and the dice sound in Siles’s mind wouldn’t stop for a moment, making Siles extremely annoyed.
He finally still frowned, reached his hand into his pocket to grasp that twelve-sided die, and said in a low voice: “Stop it.”
No response.
Siles said unbearably: “Stop rolling!”
The dice sound finally stopped, making Siles breathe a sigh of relief.
Just now, the moment he realized the existence of the merchant Lanmere, this die had been like it went mad, constantly rolling, as if waiting to give someone a judgment.
At that moment, Siles similarly had a… indescribable, inexplicable instinct and sensation. He realized he could become the Keeper at that moment—become the keeper of secrets.
He could make a judgment on anyone present, as long as he threw this die.
That was a temptation to control fate and act arbitrarily. Siles almost couldn’t hold back. But he still endured it and immediately left that building full of crowds.
Now, that feeling still lingered in his heart.
He thought—did this mean that when the die made judgments for him, he could also use the die to make judgments on others?
Why wasn’t this possible before?
Then Siles immediately realized that perhaps it was because of the merchant Lanmere’s appearance that activated Siles’s identity as Keeper.
Judgments in tabletop games were like gambling with fate.
For players, whether a judgment succeeded or failed could cause irreversible effects on their game progress. Perhaps the murderer slipped away from under their nose, perhaps a never-discovered clue suddenly jumped before them.
And for the Keeper who managed the overall situation, regardless of whether the judgment succeeded, players were only thrashing about within the great web of fate—the scenario—unable to escape the scenario’s own settings.
The Keeper’s more common practice was to, based on the die’s random numbers, give players sufficient interest, gradually instilling all information into players bit by bit, making players think they were “actively” exploring and discovering the secrets of this world, the truth of this event.
In other words, the Keeper should know the answer from the beginning.
And Siles “Keeper” Noel—he knew nothing.
Siles involuntarily closed his eyes, feeling his identity as Keeper had been greatly challenged and insulted. How could an ordinary person who knew nothing bear the responsibility for this judgment result and subsequent event development?
Siles felt complex emotions. That thought and premonition that he could make a judgment on anyone still lingered in his heart. But he held back and made no move.
He looked back at that glass-domed building with lingering fear. Then he walked around Atherton Square, his mood slowly calming down.
He absentmindedly found a restaurant to eat. This restaurant served relatively traditional stewed dishes and fried rice. Siles, eating rice for the first time in these few days, finally felt a trace of nostalgia.
This also allowed him to completely calm his slightly agitated mood.
He reached into his pocket to take out that die, thoughtfully rubbing it, observing this outwardly unremarkable die. He realized his transmigration might hide some secret behind it.
…Was this die the cheat he brought with him when transmigrating?
After thinking for a moment, Siles stopped continuing to ponder this difficult question. Currently, he still had no way to communicate with this die, so thinking more was useless effort.
After eating, Siles paid—eight Marquis Coins, by the way, really quite expensive—then looked at the time, found it was already close to one in the afternoon, and slowly walked from Atherton Central Square to the Historical Society.
The Historical Society’s entrance was still deserted. However, when heading to the top floor, Siles encountered a somewhat familiar person—carrying a painting board, a slender frame, and gold-rimmed glasses.
…That painter standing at the edge of Atherton Square?
Siles couldn’t help but cast him a glance, then withdrew his gaze. This painter had also come down from the top floor—perhaps also a Revelator. But at this moment, his steps were hurried, as if rushing to do something.
Siles felt slightly curious but didn’t greet him.
He arrived at the top floor, stood before that door painted with an eye pattern, took a deep breath, then reached out to grasp the doorknob, pressed down—pushed open this door. The space behind the door was, as always, shocking.
That soaring ceiling and bright environment—the first impression would make one think this wasn’t some mysterious space, but merely a suitable, comfortable guest space.
Following Carol’s instructions, Siles didn’t linger long in the hall, nor did he greet anyone, only hurrying to Room 666.
Several people were already sitting in the room, including Angela Clayton and that elderly woman. The latter, when introducing herself the day before yesterday, said they could call her Mrs. Fuller.
Miss Clayton and Mrs. Fuller were conversing. Siles nodded at them and the young boy who had also arrived, temporarily not participating in their conversation, only walking to the front of that bookshelf wall, curiously browsing the books on the shelves.
When he saw this wall the day before yesterday, he was very interested in what books were on it. Now arriving early, he could research it properly.
He roughly looked at the titles on the spines and found these were all history books, from myths related to the Age of Divine Birth to the establishment of modern nations and development of the Ashless Lands—everything was available. Most were quite ancient and weighty.
Siles wondered if books here could be borrowed, but thinking of what he needed to do in the coming period, he probably wouldn’t have time to read these books of interest anyway.
He returned to sit on the sofa, quietly listening to their conversation. They were chatting about some news in Lafami City, as well as the wonder of Revelators.
From this, Siles heard something of interest to him—that apostate.
The Church of the Past and Constance Duchy officials together issued a wanted order, but as for what this apostate had actually done, not a word was mentioned—only saying he had committed an unforgivable crime of “offending the deity.”
This matter caused an uproar in the capital. Several days had passed, and the apostate was still fleeing, whereabouts unknown.
This world’s current church power wasn’t strong in its oppression of people’s faith, not forcibly requiring everyone to believe in Antinam. Therefore, when talking about the apostate, they all showed some curiosity about what the apostate had done.
Just what had that apostate done to make the Church of the Past so enraged?
Siles, who knew something about this matter—it was written in his previous life’s tabletop scenario—remained silent throughout. Right now, he had no power, was merely an ordinary university professor and a Revelator who hadn’t yet learned the basics. He had no intention of getting involved in this matter.
Moreover, even if he knew the apostate’s possible whereabouts, how to match scenario information to reality was also a problem.
He did know that the apostate was injured and would seek a doctor who had just arrived in Lafami City and rented an apartment in the West District for treatment—well then, which apartment would that doctor live in?
The scenario glossed over this question with a single sentence, impossible to give a definite address. So the current Siles also couldn’t act rashly.
Throughout the entire conversation, he maintained a silent listening state.
Soon, the other two gentlemen also arrived.
At exactly two o’clock, Carol Houseman also came to this room. He looked at the six people in the room and revealed a relaxed smile: “Seems you all very much like Revelator-related descriptions, don’t you?”
Angela Clayton happily replied: “Of course! I love mysterious things.”
Regarding Angela’s statement, Carol only laughed. He said: “The afternoon before yesterday, I mentioned I would have you attempt the simplest, safest Revelator ritual today.
“So, who wants to go first?”
Angela and that very young boy almost simultaneously raised their hands.
In the end, the two looked at each other, neither yielding.
Carol then said: “Miss Clayton.”
Only then did the boy reluctantly pull his hand back. His name was Darrell Hobbs. This young boy with a lively expression obviously yearned for Revelators’ mysterious power with all his heart.
Angela nodded at Darrell, revealing a light smile. Darrell instead blushed because of this smile, because Miss Clayton possessed quite beautiful features, making the young boy involuntarily dazed.
Carol paid no attention to the small interaction between these two. He only stood there, very focused on explaining the upcoming ritual: “The first ritual for Revelator initiation has, through the long years, been fixed as a harmless but useful ritual.
“This ritual’s name is: [Flowing Wind]. The effect is to blow a harmless little breeze before someone. It won’t cause any harm, at most letting you feel some coolness in hot August.”
Is that so? Siles thought thus. What if during combat, blowing a gust of wind at an enemy’s eyes? Or even blowing directly inside an enemy’s body?
…Terrible. He was still too limited by Earth’s online novels’ fighting and killing. Siles thought shamefully.
Angela stood beside Carol, her expression extremely impatient.
Carol also laughed: “Alright, alright, I’m sure you’re already impatient. Then, let us see—what is this ritual’s temporal trace?”
He took out an object from his pocket.
