I loaded the Mysticism panel.

"After achieving a deep resonance, you can temporarily borrow them for use."

Hecate didn't go into too much detail.

"What you can get specifically depends on your own rank and level of resonance."

"What I initially received was the shadow of a weapon, the skeleton of a skill, and half the function of a tool."

"What we get later may be more complete, but the cost will be heavier."

She glanced at the members on the table.

"The deeper the resonance, the more you gain, and the greater the price you pay."

The whole table fell silent.

Richard had a vague premonition that reaching the stage of "Face Shadow Illumination" meant he had "mastered" the operation of the mask.

The conditions for a reversal of shadows may be just around the corner.

Shadow has been practicing his skills behind the curtain every day, wearing a mask, for several months now.

During this period, he used the bonuses provided by the mask dozens of times from various angles.

He had explored every line of communication, cross-border affairs, extradition, and rhetoric under the control of Hermes' mask several times over.

Hecate called this set of things "The Radiant Mask," and the divine name projected by the mask took root in the wearer's body.

The only condition for reversing a technique is: "The technique has been mastered".

The etheric structure of the mask is an extremely complex set of spells.

He never tried to dissect its underlying code.

The divination also clearly told him that taking the mask off for others would bring death upon him.

The panel needs him to be able to run the program proficiently.

He's been running for a month or two, running every day.

On the other side, Hecate continued speaking:

"There's one more thing: resonance is irreversible."

"Once you start, you can't quit halfway through."

"Unless you destroy the mask... but the cost of destroying the mask is far more terrible than the resonance itself."

When these words were spoken, the reactions of the different people were all different.

Nemesis's balance scale dipped slightly, but she quickly leveled it again by hand.

Prometheus clenched his fist on his knee.

Half a drop of wine spilled from Dionysus's glass and landed on the table.

Hercules shifted the position of his crossed legs, but Demeter did not react at all.

Hecate turned her gaze to the far left.

Demeter.

No sound came from behind the terracotta mask; the woman merely gave a slight bow.

"Your mask resonates the most at the entire table."

Hecate's voice was filled with satisfaction.

"The Goddess of Harvest manages planting, harvesting, and nurturing; you've fed every bit of the mask's bonus into your field."

"What your field eats from this mask is now inseparable from the mask itself."

Hecate's torch veered slightly toward Demeter.

"You've entered the resonance phase, haven't you?"

Demeter hummed in agreement: "It's been over a month."

"What did you get?"

Demeter stretched out her hand, and something materialized in her palm.

It was a sickle, completely different from the one on her head that was originally on her mask.

It turns out that the handle was a symbol, a relief decoration carved on the terracotta surface.

The one in my palm is real.

The blade was curved at an angle Richard had never seen in any real object before; it was an arc that a human hand could not possibly create from a steel billet.

After the curve went a full 180 degrees, it hooked back a little more than half a circle, with the hook tip pointing towards the handle.

"This is divinely created weaponry."

Hecate nodded, explaining on behalf of her good friend.

"Demeter's Scythe".

"The blade of harvest, before which all things are crops."

She asked again.

"How long can you sustain this for, approximately?"

Demeter put the scythe back and clasped her hands together.

"It can only be used once for now, and it will cost a lot of money to re-condense it afterward."

Hecate shifted her gaze to the right.

"Hercules".

A muffled response came from beneath the lion's mouth mask.

"exist."

"Your level of resonance ranks second."

"You took the mask and ran back and forth between the Ash Belt and the front lines, fighting the evil creatures the fiercest."

Hercules pulled his legs back and sat up slightly.

"You've entered the resonance phase too," Hecate said without using a question.

"About two weeks ago," the man replied, his voice louder than anyone else's at the table.

"What did you get?"

A right hand extended from beneath the lion's mouth mask; it was a giant olive wood club.

Richard had previously seen a projection at a party showing Hercules wielding a giant olive club and wreaking havoc.

However, that one, in terms of both appearance and intensity, was completely incomparable to the one condensed in this palm.

If that stick was a toy gun back then, this stick is a real gun now.

"The staff I was holding in the previous projection was a regular enchanted weapon made by an alchemist."

Hercules flipped the club over to show everyone.

"Now this is the real deal."

"The effect of the swing... hey, my hand was still sore from the impact after I hit it."

"How long can it last?" Hecate asked.

"It depends on the situation; I can only swing it three or four times at most with all my might."

If it's just used as a shell to attach to my original weapon, it will last a little longer, but the effect will be greatly reduced.

Richard suddenly realized that Hercules' true weapon in mythology was the arrow quenched with Hydra's poisonous blood.

The venom of the hydra is so potent that even the hydra itself cannot resist its poison.

The opponent hasn't condensed the poison arrow yet, and it's unclear whether they're hiding their strength or their resonance level isn't high enough. Richard leans towards the latter.

Hecate then turned her attention to the third position.

"Dionysus".

A muffled laugh came from beneath the ivy mask.

"Is it my turn?"

"Your resonance level ranks third."

"You're soaking your mask in the alcohol, it's so comfortable."

Hecate's voice revealed a hint of girlish aloofness.

"Have you achieved resonance?"

"It's in." Dionysus placed the cup on the table.

"It was just recently acquired, not long ago."

"What did you get?"

"...I haven't received it yet."

A moment of silence fell over the table.

"Haven't received it yet?" Hecate's voice remained unchanged, but the outline of the torch tilted slightly in this direction.

"We've entered the resonance phase, but the first 'facial radiance' hasn't been completed yet."

Dionysus pushed the cup away.

"I'm waiting for the right time."

"wait?"

"Hmm." The mouth under the ivy mask clicked its tongue.

"The cup of Dionysus is not suited to solidify in a quiet place."

He ran his hand along the inside of the cup.

"It has to be in a sufficiently 'intense' setting... a place with lots of people, lots of noise, and emotions so intense they could set the air ablaze."

Hecate looked at him for a few seconds, then didn't press the matter further.

Hermes.

Richard raised his head.

He sat very upright, his back pressed against the back of the stone chair.

"Your level of resonance ranks fourth."

Hecate's gaze pierced through the overlapping eye sockets of the golden mask.

Two pairs of eyes simultaneously turned toward Richard: Nemesis and Prometheus.

Both of them were somewhat surprised by Richard's progress, especially Nemesis.

Hecate was also somewhat curious:

"The efficiency that a professional can achieve with masks is naturally a level lower than that of someone who is only slightly proficient."

With a lower rank and less ether reserves, the mask's bonus is reduced for you, and the effective duration of each use is shorter than for others at the table.

"The level of resonance you achieved under these conditions wasn't much different from that of Dionysus."

The golden mask tilted to one side.

"How exactly do you use it?"

Richard pressed his hand on his knee.

"I use it every day." His answer was brief.

Richard did not continue speaking.

He wouldn't explain the existence of shadows on this table, much less about out-of-body experiences and spirits.

Hecate's gaze lingered on his face for two seconds before shifting away.

"Nemesis, your resonance level ranks fifth."

Nemesis did not respond.

"I understand your situation regarding the spillover effects of your ban on masks."

Hecate's voice slowed down by half a beat.

"But the ban also limits its efficiency."

"You should know in your heart that you are still far from reaching the threshold of resonance."

Two words appeared on the pan of the Nemesis scales: "I know."

Then he added:

"Please give me some more time, Chief. I will work even harder."

Hecate nodded.

Then she turned her gaze to the last person, and the torch and key above his head were all frozen solid, instantly making the atmosphere tense.

"Prometheus." The call fell heavily.

The man in the crimson mask stiffened at the waist.

"This mask of yours..." Hecate said, "I made it and gave it to you, how many times have you worn it since then?"

Prometheus did not answer.

"I'll speak for you," Hecate said calmly.

"The number of times that it actually works when you put it on... is zero."

"You're still wearing that decorative thing on your face."

No one at the table was surprised.

Everyone had witnessed Prometheus's hesitation over the past six months.

The mask of the fire-stealer grants him foresight, but foresight is torture for him; the further he sees, the deeper the torment. His fear is justified.

"Take the mask back and have your master remove it."

"After the demolition, the insurance I had laid was triggered, and your master spent several days cleaning up the mess."

"Then you repaired the mask and locked it in the closet, and it's been locked up until today."

"What's the difference between an unused mask and a piece of copper?"

Prometheus lowered his head and offered no explanation.

"Prometheus," Hecate stated bluntly.

"My table can't support people pacing back and forth outside the door."

Everyone else has already gone inside, but you're still standing on the threshold, peeking around.

You're taking up a chair and slowing down the whole table's progress.

"If you continue to hesitate and refuse to put it on..."

Hecate's voice turned completely cold.

"I can only ask you to leave."

"And this time, it's different from the time with Ares."

"When Ares left, I gave him money for the prosthetic leg and said goodbye until we meet again."

"When you leave, there will be nothing left."

"You also have to return to me the cost I spent on making the mask, including the materials, time, and ether consumption, in the form of equivalent value."

The whole table was completely cold.

Prometheus sat there for a long time without saying a word.

"Chief." His voice came from under the mask, dry and indescribable.

"I……"

Richard sat in his seat, minimizing his inspiration.

Using inspiration to attack people at this time is very impolite, even in a theological salon.

Prometheus paused for about ten seconds after the word "I".

In those ten seconds, his hands moved back and forth along the edge of the mask several times before finally gripping both sides of the mask.

He took the mask from his palm.

It was very slow, like carrying a bowl that was overflowing, as if afraid of spilling a single drop.

The silhouette of Prometheus on the gold mask flickered in and out of focus under the light of the few lamps in the temple.

The fire-stealer, bound to the Caucasus Mountains, has his liver pecked away by eagles every day.

To foresee is torment... Knowing the eagle will come tomorrow, knowing it will hurt when it comes, but if you take away its fire, it will always burn.

Prometheus held the mask up to his face and hesitated for a long time.

Then, he put the crimson gold mask over his face.

The crimson flame above Prometheus's head changed color; light appeared in the fire.

Light seeped out from the core of the flame, slowly and steadily, softening the rough outline of the entire flame.

Hecate watched silently for a while.

"it is good."

She was very satisfied with the result.