I loaded the Mysticism panel.

The team fight has begun.

When Loki stood up, all the fires in the hall, which was filled with blazing flames and empty lamps, simultaneously dipped slightly before suddenly surging up again.

Those flames burned very frequently, but they didn't generate any heat at all.

They were a room full of hired guests pretending to be happy, laughing heartily, and none of them wanted to leave first.

At the other end of the hall, a door appeared out of nowhere.

"Walk."

Behind the door is a circle of standing stones.

Lichen grew on the rocks, and people stood shoulder to shoulder around the bonfire in the middle.

A pot was hanging over the fire, and something inside was bubbling away.

The taste was actually real: beef, barley, and a little bit of burnt onion.

Smoke rose from the center of the stone circle and dissipated into the roofless night sky.

Lillian was somewhat puzzled.

The fire in Loki's hall was fake, the lamps were empty, and only a head hung from the dome.

The fire here is real, the pot is real, the smoke is real, and even the firewood under the pot is chopped very realistically.

"Their fire is real."

Loki said something to her, sounding like he was envious.

"So it's easier to burn."

Five people were standing inside the stone circle.

The tall man at the very back, with a white beard, was leaning on an outrageously thick wooden stick with one hand and resting his other hand on the edge of a pot. This was the war god Dagda.

The young man to his left was shirtless.

Before the person even moved, the eyes had already begun to deform, one sunk into the skull and the other bulged outwards—like Cú Chulainn the rabid dog.

The one on the right carrying a spear, with a sling hanging from his shoulder, is Rug the sun god.

At the other end of the fire stood a red-haired woman, holding a small cluster of fire in her hands—Bridget.

The last one stood in the shadows at the outermost edge of the stone circle.

Crows perched on her. One, two, five, a dozen, Morrigan.

Luo Ji stood between the two standing stones and closed his eyes.

He began to chant the name of the master, and the entire stone circle trembled.

"Riding across the roadless wilderness, hoof to hoof with the wind."

A gust of wind, whose direction was unclear, slipped in through every crack in the rocks.

"He once roused a thousand armies with a single corner."

The illusory flame above Lillian's head trembled.

She heard horns sounding in the far distance, as if thousands of troops were charging forward.

"Blood has sealed the saddle, bones have become the bow, only the sound of hooves remains to hunt for eternity."

The moment the name was finished being recited, the projections of the divine names above everyone's heads on Loki's table lit up simultaneously.

The esteemed person whose name was called bestowed a wisp of "gaze" upon this table.

Lillian felt Skadi's blizzard surge within her body.

She used to struggle to control blizzards, but now she only needs to think about it and the blizzards will rise up on their own.

She wasn't the only one; the chain on Fenrir's body snapped even louder, each link snapping outwards.

The ether in Tyr's single hand was so thick it was almost dripping.

Freya put the plate down.

Behind Hela's half-dead face, through the cracks in the gates of Hades, the cold air leaked out even more fiercely than before.

Inside the stone circle, Dagda lowered his hand from the edge of the pot.

"Which one are you referring to?"

Loki looked at him with a smile.

"You could tell."

"Of course I can tell."

Dagda slammed the wooden stick on the ground, the ground shook, and the flames tilted half an inch.

"You've come today to devour us gatekeepers."

Loki spread his hands.

"That's a very harsh thing to say. We're just here for a meal."

He stepped back outside the stone circle, raised one hand, and made a "please" gesture.

"Gentlemen, enjoy it while it's hot."

………………

The Celtic table was destroyed very quickly.

It was so fast that Lillian felt all the previous fierce battles were unnecessary.

The divine names they held—Dagda, Cú Chulainn, Ruge, Bridget, Morrigan—were like flags being pulled up one by one.

One after another, they were poured into Loki's cup.

Loki accepted the cup with ease.

With each drop poured in, his loosely draped ether thickened a little more.

Lillian was assigned a sliver of vision, which was a crow flock perspective separated from Morrigan's.

When Loki returned to the hall with the heads hanging there, the wine had already been poured, and he sat back in the head seat.

"Great play tonight."

He looked around.

"I know what you want to ask."

"What Fenrir wants to ask is, why not leave one more for him to bite?"

A muffled sound came from beneath the wolf-mouth mask.

"What Tyr wants to ask is, what right do we have to eat from someone else's table?"

They're tending to their own little circle of stones, cooking their own pot of beef and barley, and they don't care about anyone else.

Loki smiled.

"Tyr, the moment some rules are established, it's already decided who will be sacrificed."

"Tonight we'll overturn someone else's table, and tonight, it'll be our table that gets overturned."

"I just wanted to get ahead of everyone else."

Tyr's lone hand moved slightly, then stopped.

"Freya didn't want to ask anything; she just wanted to choose first."

Freya licked the plate.

"Hela never asks; the dead don't pry into the affairs of the living. She just waits to clean up after this meal."

Loki fixed his gaze on the last position.

"Skadi wants to ask, who are we saving all this power for?"

Lillian didn't speak; her hand was still on the needle in her sleeve.

"Then I'll tell you."

Loki raised the cup and waved it at the raging flames.

"You all know how the ranks work."

"For practitioners, there are those who are proficient in a little, those who are proficient in a lot, and the next step is to become an expert."

"This is a step that the entire mainland may not be able to take even once in many years."

"For you, that's the limit for being an expert."

"You can't see it from up there."

He put the cup back on the armrest.

"An expert is someone who takes a tradition to its ultimate conclusion."

"The sun, the fire, the tide, the shadow—any one will do."

"You keep walking along that road until you reach the farthest boundary marker and touch it."

"Once you've touched it, you'll become an expert."

"That road was paved by someone else, and the boundary marker was also erected by someone else."

No matter how fast you walk, the road is still someone else's road.

"If you want to take the next step, you have to have your own path."

"You have to go and carve one yourself, and have your name engraved on that road."

"Those who reach that level are called masters."

The hall was so quiet you could hear the flames dancing; Loki's voice trailed off.

"There is only one way to forge a new tradition: sink yourself into the abyss."

"The abyss is a disaster, a pot that can melt anything."

Whatever tradition you follow, once you enter, it will all be dissolved.

"The abyss is also an endless possibility; it is the chaos before all things were formed."

"To become a master, an expert must first delve into the abyss of tradition."

"Use this possibility to forge a new crown."

Loki's tone suddenly became very relaxed, so relaxed that it sent chills down one's spine.

"The vast majority of those who take this path perish inside; outsiders only know that a certain expert suddenly disappeared without a trace."

Lillian's palm, which was pressed against the needle, was already covered in sweat.

"So," she said softly.

"The strength we've gathered for this table is reserved for a master who aspires to become a great master."

Loki looked at her, the smile in his eyes fading slightly.

"clever."

"The abyss will dissolve layer by layer; if you sink in with enough things in your arms..."

Lillian's ravenous eyes hadn't completely disappeared yet.

Looking through the curtain, she saw a very thin thread hanging from beneath Loki's loose ethereal robe.

The line plunged into the darkness outside the hall, connecting to some place that seemed to have no end.

"One more thing," Loki's voice trailed off again.

"At the Celtic table, if it weren't for the one behind me giving me a glance tonight, Fenrir might not have been able to take down Cú Chulainn."

"The extra strength you have is what leaks through his fingers."

What's leaked will have to be paid back sooner or later.

Loki drank the contents of the cup in one gulp.

The flames in the hall gradually subsided, then suddenly surged up again.

Just as they were leaping and crouching, the door opened, and a person stood outside.

The man was ridiculously tall, with white hair, and his shoulders almost touched the top of the door frame.

He was wearing a faded gray wool coat with the cuffs rolled up to his forearms.

On the exposed section of skin, old scars overlapped one after another.

He was carrying a book in one hand, and his other hand was free. His knuckles were large, and his fingertips were covered in calluses.

Lillian's ravenous eyes hadn't completely disappeared yet; she looked over through the curtain.

The ether surrounding this person was an endless, cold white expanse.

Like the moonlight on a winter night in the highlands, it shines on everything, leaving nothing hidden.

Loki's eyes widened, the cup still in his hand.

"Old man, how did you find your way here?"