I loaded the Mysticism panel.

In the slag alley, the clock downstairs just struck ten.

There was a moment of silence at the end of the street.

There were no footsteps, no carriages, and not even the stray cat that always meowed at this time of day made a sound.

All the usual noises and rustling sounds of the night were gently silenced.

A figure emerged from the alleyway.

The shadow beneath her supported the tips of her shoes, and the hem of her cloak hung down, but the wind couldn't move it.

Carrying her was something unseen.

Mrs. McNeill held an ebony plaque in her hand.

Her gaze passed over the low eaves of the slag alley and landed on the window on the second floor of the Williams family's house.

A shadow spread out from the sole of the shoe, around the gate, and flowed in through the crack under the door.

The window wasn't open, but the person was already standing in Richard's room.

The medium's gaze fell on the boy's face, and he sighed.

I was still too late.

When she received the call, her child had already entered a dream.

It would take her at least twenty minutes to get from the hotel where she was staying to the slag alley.

In twenty minutes, it was done.

Mrs. McNeil stood at the foot of the bed for a moment, then took out a small, dark iron box from the inside pocket of her cloak.

After taking stock of the ritual items, she sprinkled a small pinch of salt at each of the four corners of the bed.

Salt grains fall silently onto the wooden floor.

She crushed the olive leaves and placed them one by one in the four directions of Richard's pillow.

Finally, there is clear water.

She uncorked the cork, dipped her index finger in it, and placed a drop on Richard's forehead.

The water droplets didn't slide down the skin; they stayed in place and were slowly absorbed.

Mrs. McNeill still held the ebony plaque in her left hand.

The incantation she was chanting caused the spirits around the room to begin to vibrate.

With each syllable that fell, the thin mist in the room trembled.

The core of the ceremony can be summarized in three sentences.

The first sentence locks the physical body: If the soul cannot return, the body will not decay, awaiting its return.

The second sentence gathers the soul: If the body perishes outside, the soul will not disperse and will return to its rightful place.

The third line seals off the middle line: If the connection between body and soul is severed, use this card as a guide to reconnect the line.

She stopped after reading the third sentence.

The medium put away the tin box and gently wiped away the olive leaf fragments with his finger.

The leaves disappeared from the floor, blown away into the air, and the salt grains vanished along with them.

Only after the entire ceremony was completed did she have time to observe the boy's condition.

The spiritual vision was pushed out and stopped three inches from Richard's body.

Mrs. McNeil's brow furrowed at first, then slowly relaxed.

The boy's etheric microcirculation operated extremely smoothly, without any signs of being torn apart by external forces or his consciousness being dragged into disorder.

His soul still sits peacefully within his body, even though the "person" is temporarily absent.

They went somewhere else, but nothing happened.

That's good.

Mrs. McNeil stood at the foot of the bed for a while longer.

She remembered what her teacher had told her:

"In our line of work, what we fear most is not being too late, but being too timely. If we interfere too often, the child won't grow its own bones."

The ceremony we just went through was a backup plan.

Ultimately, it is only he himself who can truly support this young man.

Mrs. McNeil let the shadow rise from the floor again, supporting the soles of her shoes.

The medium walked out through the wall.

Back at her hotel, Mrs. McNeill looked at the ebony plaque.

There were no signs of wear and tear on the ebony surface, indicating that the ritual was not actually performed.

She picked up the phone: "Teacher, the child is alright."

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a while.

"Did he join that group tonight?"

"I'm sitting down."

A very soft sigh came from the other end of the phone.

"Fine, let him go his own way."

........................

Meanwhile, in the Divine Salon within the dream world.

Just as Richard was brainstorming, Hecate made a move.

She raised her left hand from the main seat, palm facing the direction where the two were standing, and hooked her fingers downwards.

The ochre-white veil covering Richard began to be lifted, and he instinctively held his breath.

After he was fully rolled up, he also saw the projection of the divine name.

The difference is that this time it's my own.

God of messengers and commerce, guardian of orators and scholars, guide of souls, boundary crosser, god of words and trickery.

God's name - Hermes

As the divine name was projected, a golden-winged double serpent staff and a traveler's skin materialized above his head.

My own microcirculation seemed to be gently "aligned" by this concept that spans thousands of years.

This concept earnestly suggests to myself: "Your shape can be like this."

His microcirculation instinctively resisted for a moment, but then he restrained himself.

Richard didn't actively go along with the suggestion, but he didn't completely reject it either.

He remained neutral.

At the same time, the name of a god was also heard from another newcomer.

The goddess of retribution, the keeper of the scales, the one who holds the whip and the reins, will punish those who go too far.

God's name - Nemesis

A long whip and a balance scale appeared, the two ends of the scale trembling slightly, stopping at a deliberate imbalance.

Richard glanced at her sideways.

The other person stiffened slightly for half a second, then seemed to relax somewhat.

Richard understood that kind of relaxation.

When someone who has been misunderstood for a long time is read correctly for the first time, they develop a dangerous sense of trust.

Hecate's true skill lay not in that pottery coin, but in this very moment.

In front of everyone, she changed a "safe compromise code name" to a code name that "makes you feel like you're being seen through."

He sounded a warning bell in his mind.

After the curtains were lifted from the two of them, Hecate looked up at them and a sound of three overlapping timbres rang out.

The girl's clear voice, the mother's gentle voice, and the old woman's hoarse voice—the three voices were in no particular order.

"In the past, we were each our own girls."

Her voice was not loud, but it didn't need to be; the temple walls would send every syllable to the round table.

"In this moment, we are each other's mother."

Her gaze swept over Ares, then over Dionysus, and finally settled on Prometheus.

"In the future, we will all become old women of this era."

Those who, even when everyone else has forgotten, still remember the truth.

After saying this, Richard forced himself not to frown.

Is this PUA or just some awkward little drama?

It sounds like it's giving meaning to members, but if you peel away the sugar coating, the underlying logic of these three sentences is:

Your past belongs to us, your present belongs to us, and your future belongs to us.

Three tenses bind you for life.

Hecate's gaze shifted to the two of them.

"Two newcomers, the tokens you used on your journey have been replaced by me."

She raised her hand and pointed gently.

"Those two pottery coins were enough to bring you here, but they're not good enough for this table."

Before I explain the rules, let me first tell you where you are standing.

She stretched out her hand, encircling the entire round table from afar.

"This is a small gathering that I personally organized, which I call... Theologian Salon."

"The Theogony is merely a salon gathering, not an organization," Hecate continued.

"Organizations have bylaws, hierarchies, and chains of command; we don't have any of those."

"There is only one table here, and on the table are the things that everyone brought. Everyone takes what they need from the table. No one orders anyone, and no one obeys anyone."

"The only rule is that if you're sitting here, it means you deserve to be sitting here."

She specifically emphasized the word "worth it".

The emphasis wasn't strong, but it was enough to make those present feel a sense of superiority, as if they had been selected.

"There are tens of thousands of cultivators within the empire, most of whom spend their entire lives confined to their own small circles."

Official matters belong to the official authorities, academic matters belong to the academic institutions, and matters belonging to unofficial guilds belong to the unofficial guilds.

Everyone is confined by their own system, unable to see what lies outside that framework.

"And you..."

She tapped her finger lightly on the round table.

"A person who walked out of a box."

Prometheus nodded slightly after saying that.

Dionysus saw this and nodded in the same direction as Prometheus.

Both of them were clearly familiar with Hecate's words.

Perhaps they heard the same words when they first stood next to this table.

Now, hearing Hecate repeat those words to the newcomers is like seeing the door they walked through years ago being pushed open again.

Hecate continued speaking.

This table does not guarantee anyone's safety, nor does it promise anyone's future.

It does only one thing...gives those who deserve to sit together the opportunity to sit together.

"The rest is up to you."

After she finished speaking, her gaze returned to the two of them.

Richard made the most appropriate move at the moment, giving a slight nod in the direction of the head of the table.

Nemesis did the same thing almost at the same time as him.

On Hecate's golden mask, the horizontal line separating the girl and the old woman moved slightly, as if she were smiling.

She raised her hand, gesturing for them to sit down.

When Richard sat down, the stone chair caught him with remarkable precision.

This chair is perfect; it's as if it were made for him.

Nemesis also sat down.

She sat down in a posture that wasn't as formal as Richard's, maintaining a ready stance as if she could get up at any moment.

After Richard sat down, the question still lingered in his mind.

Mortals addressing each other by the names of gods is considered blasphemy in the mainstream culture of the empire. Why do these people dare to do it?

Hecate seemed to have guessed the unspoken question between the two.

"You might be thinking..."

The sound of the three timbres overlapping rang out again.

"How dare a mortal address himself as a god?"

Her gaze fell on Richard, then shifted to Nemesis.

"I tell you, we are not overstepping our bounds."

She lifted her hand off the armrest of the chair, her fingers spread wide.

"The name of God does not belong exclusively to God."

"The names of the gods are the vessels left by the gods for future generations."

"When a mortal is great enough, he is qualified to temporarily reside in a divine name and bear the power of that prototype."

She pulled her hands back and placed her fingers interlaced on her knees.

"We address each other by the name of God because we are moving toward that name."

After saying this, Nemesis spoke, her gaze falling on the ochre-red sand grains remaining in her palm.

"My father never used a code name during his lifetime."

She shook the sand off her palm.

He said that a hunter doesn't need a name; what a hunter needs is a good knife and a pair of good legs.

Names are for the living; a hunter can become dead at any moment.

She turned her palm over, palm facing up, and it was empty.

"So I want to confirm one thing."

Her gaze passed across the round table and landed on Hecate.

"The person sitting at this table is walking towards that name..."

"Are we still being consumed by that name?"

That's a very pointed question.

Nemesis turned the sentence over.

What if it's not you walking towards the name, but the name devouring you?

You think you're wearing an outer garment, but the outer garment is also wearing you.

Richard's opinion of Nemesis rose in his mind.

Hecate looked at her for a while.

"Good question."

"Whether you can avoid being replaced depends on how strong your backbone is."

"The container is empty; it will not actively devour anyone."

But if you are not determined enough, you will get lost in the container.

You'll start to lose sight of which thoughts are your own and which are just echoes left in the container.

That's why we have this table.

She tapped her fingers lightly on the edge of the round table.

The people sitting at the table looked at each other and reminded each other.

If one day you start saying things you wouldn't say, and doing things you wouldn't do, the other people at the table will tell you.

Nemesis did not ask any further questions.

Richard once again witnessed Hecate's profound rhetoric.

Her answer was brilliant.

They acknowledged the existence of risks and packaged "mutual supervision" as the reason for the gathering.

This person in charge never lies, only misinterprets.

He's powerful and intelligent; he's simply unfathomable.

"Alright, Hermes, Nemesis."

Hecate stopped with the pleasantries and got straight to the point.

"Since we have two new faces, let me explain the rules here again."

"The rules are very simple."

"This round table is held together by contributions; at each gathering, members bring their own things."

Intelligence, techniques, items, clues—anything goes.

You put your things on the table, and others put their things on the table too; everyone takes what they need.

"First-time visitors don't need to bring anything. Tonight, all you need to do is watch and listen."

After she finished speaking, her tone switched from "host" to "observer," and she gently pushed the table towards the center.

"Let's begin."