"Having money truly is great," Eli Walker chuckled, downing the Sun Holy Water from the bottle.
Bennett Maynard's maternal grandfather was a New Party bigwig, owning many properties even in the Intis Kingdom. Relying on this connection, Bennett also knew some low-Sequence Beyonders from the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun who were active in Backlund.
As long as he was willing to pay a little extra, even late at night, he could get a Beyonder of the Sun pathway to climb out of bed and deliver the services he needed.
"Arrodes, which of the five major pathways do you think is best for me?"
He tossed the empty bottle aside and looked toward the mirror in the bedroom.
The mirror's surface shimmered with silver light, blossoming into an eerie yet splendid rose.
"Befriend distant enemies, attack nearby ones."
"Then I'll go with the Secret suppliant," Eli Walker nodded. He had also been considering the Hanged Man pathway.
Although the True Creator was insane, He resided in the Forsaken Land of the Gods. That meant His influence on the outside world was weaker, indirect.
"Well then, good night, Arrodes."
He smiled and waved at the mirror.
In the mirror, the "black-haired Elf" waved back, and silver-white ripples transformed into a line of Elvish: "Good night, Eli Walker."
…
Two thousand five hundred years ago.
The Age of Conflict.
The Elf Saint, who had originally intended to continue slacking off, suddenly felt a faint surge of ambition.
"Is this a bug?"
"Never mind, it's not important."
"Arrodes, help me find something. Its name should be Groselle's Travels. Once I find it, I'll be able to advance to angel."
Eli Walker revised his plan.
He gave up on waiting for the world to descend into further chaos before seizing the opportunity to advance.
Since he existed in the future, what need was there to fear dying in the past?
"It's time I showed a bit of my fangs."
He set down his fishing rod and transformed into a bolt of lightning, arriving at the junction of two sea regions, where two spiritual domains were engaged in a long stalemate.
"The other Saints of the Church of Storms are on the North Continent, fighting for faith against other Churches. And you've been here all this time, trying to conquer Elves to impress the Lord of Storms? Hoping to become a future angel… a future Pope?"
"Come out! If you're a man, fight me one-on-one!"
Eli Walker stomped down, and a massive water pillar surged toward the sea ahead.
A howling tornado dispersed it. Rain poured, ominous clouds gathered, and a bearded man looked down from midair.
"Elf, surrender to my Lord. It is your supreme honor."
In the Saint's mind, he had been gradually applying pressure—claiming spiritual territory, encroaching little by little. This Elf had never dared retaliate. Now he was cornered and grasping at some final dignity.
"Are you here to fight, or to give a sermon?" Eli said coldly.
Who said Beyonders of the Storm pathway lacked brains? This guy looked like he had "Lord of the Storm" tattooed on his forehead.
"How dare you!"
The Sea King from the Church of Storms was enraged.
He had planned to defeat this Elf Saint, then extend a rope to pull him under his command. Now?
When he became Pope in the future, he'd erase these arrogant Elves.
Lightning fell like divine punishment, engulfing several hundred meters around Eli in one strike. No chance to dodge. No warning.
A true Saint of Storm, battle-tested.
And yet—
"You started it," Eli Walker said, smiling faintly.
Silver-white lightning crackled across the sea, reflecting in his sharp eyes.
Thunder roared.
Waves surged and marine beasts were torn apart by the destruction. When it finally ended, the skies above one sea region turned unstable, and a desperate, guttural roar echoed into the distance.
Eli wiped blood from his face. His lightning spear was embedded in the body of a wide-eyed Monster.
This was no ordinary corpse—it had fully triggered its Mythical Creature form and lost control before dying.
He absorbed the Sea King's Beyonder characteristic and tossed the body back into the sea.
A Saint formed from stacking Sequence 9 to Sequence 3 dared to challenge him?
Idiot.
Eli withdrew his spreading spiritual plague and stepped on the wind back to his fishing spot. He retrieved his rod. His robe was torn, but the moist sea air cleaned the blood. Illusory scales covered his injuries. His once-black hair now held a faint blue hue.
He had also activated his Mythical Creature form, though only incompletely—and briefly. With self-hypnosis, he could stop himself from fully losing control. The other Saint didn't have that luxury.
Now that he had absorbed another Sea King characteristic, the common mutations of the Storm pathway began to manifest.
The morale of the Elves soared after this hard-won victory.
Eli gazed blankly into the sea, letting the breeze carry a melancholic melody. The familiar tune stirred something in his mind.
He didn't resist. He let the dream-song take him.
"You did well this time."
"That fool tried to use us to gain favor with Lord of the Storm. But he never thought why the other Sea Kings only spread faith on the North Continent."
A woman appeared within the dream—a tall, regal figure in elaborate elven attire. Her features were delicate, her eyes deep as an abyss. Without speaking loudly, her presence demanded reverence.
Elaria Moonfest, Queen of the Elves.
That majesty wasn't feigned. It was innate. Even a Saint of the Storm pathway would instinctively feel it.
"He's not completely foolish," she continued. "He was testing how far he could push before we pushed back. If we retreated, if we hesitated, if we were injured… that would all count as merit to help him ascend within the Church of Storms."
"He just didn't expect that I truly could kill him," Eli replied softly. "That I truly would."
He lowered his gaze, hiding the flickering madness in his eyes.
His mental state had only stabilized thanks to routine fishing. Without it, he might have already lost control.
Such was the cost of swallowing too many Beyonder characteristics.