Early in the morning, Atlas left his room and headed to the dining room on the first floor. His breakfast had already been prepared and was laid out across the table.

As he ate, Atlas reflected on his situation. He was currently a Baron in the Loen Kingdom, a title his family earned thanks to his father’s numerous military exploits. His father had been a devout believer in the Evernight Goddess.

Atlas resided in West Borough, a high-class residential area for nobles and wealthy tycoons. Although security there wasn’t as robust as in Empress Borough, it was still far superior compared to other districts.

Lately, Atlas’s finances were looking quite stable. He had saved around a hundred pounds, though much of it went towards maintaining his villa, purchasing nutrients for his farms, and other expenses. It was difficult to save, but compared to Klein, Atlas had a much better starting point with access to noble privileges and various channels. At this point, Klein barely had one pound to support himself and his two siblings.

Atlas sat down and began devouring the food in front of him. The recent madness had consumed a lot of energy, and he was hungry enough to eat an elephant.

Then, as if emerging from the shadows, his butler spoke, "Master Atlas, you don’t look very well!"

Atlas sighed. Alfred, his butler, was highly perceptive and could detect even the smallest changes in him. This was bound to happen eventually. Atlas responded, “It’s nothing serious, Alfred. I just haven’t been able to sleep properly for the past week, I think.”

Alfred sighed, seemingly expecting this answer. He then looked up, clearing his throat, and drew Atlas’s attention.

“Master Atlas, may I see you in the library after breakfast?”

Atlas nodded. “Okay, Alfred. But is there a reason for this?”

Alfred ignored the question and started walking to the library. Before he left, he turned back and said, “Please don’t take too long.”

…

‘I wonder what’s made Alfred so nervous; he almost always answers my questions,’ Atlas thought, making his way to the grand library. This library was one reason his home cost so much—it was the size of three apartments, filled with books on various subjects from mysticism to history.

Upon entering, he saw Alfred pacing around. As Atlas entered, Alfred gestured for him to sit down, then cleared his throat and spoke in a shaky tone.

“Master Atlas, this might come as a shock, but your bloodline is cursed.”

Atlas frowned. It seemed his suspicions were correct. He wondered who would place such a curse on his family; they weren’t particularly extraordinary.

“You don’t seem surprised?” Alfred was a bit taken aback.

Atlas offered a small smile. “I had a sneaking suspicion.”

“About a week ago, I felt an indescribable madness within me, and it kept getting worse. So, I guessed it might’ve been a curse. So the mystical world is real. Huh?"

Alfred’s usual kind demeanor was gone, replaced with an unusually serious expression. This was the first time Atlas had seen him so grave.

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“Behind the facade of the real world, there exists a mystical one,” Alfred said, looking sorrowful before continuing.

“Where should I begin? Ah, yes—your father.”

“Your father, Dexter, was a kind man. He cared deeply for his family and friends, treating me as if I were his brother. But beneath his gentle exterior, he was a man with ambitions. He reached heights no one else in your family had.”

“He was the most likely person to break your family’s curse. But he still failed. Yet, before his death, he declared, ‘My son will reach the place I failed to reach!’”

Atlas was startled to hear about this curse. It sounded like it was a generational affliction. ‘Could my family have once been a powerful Beyonder family? Otherwise, why would someone curse us like this?’

Alfred continued, “You see, my ancestor once owed his life to yours, and that debt made him vow to serve your family. Initially, we weren’t privy to all your family’s secrets, but your father chose to tell me everything.”

Alfred took a deep breath. “Your father and I grew up together as close as brothers. When he revealed the curse, he admitted he hadn’t planned to continue the family line.”

“That was until he met your mother. They were deeply in love, and due to her insistence, you were born. Usually, the curse manifests when the cursed turns ten. But your mother sealed it, giving you another ten years.”

Atlas listened intently, wondering if his mother had been a Beyonder herself. Perhaps she followed the Darkness or Justiciar pathway?

“She hoped you’d have a chance to enjoy youth, experience love, and appreciate life’s beauty without worry. She didn’t want you to shoulder the burden of this curse like your father had.”

“She made me promise to reveal part of the truth to you once the curse awoke within you.”

Atlas felt a mix of joy and gratitude. Though he wasn’t her actual son, he was moved by the maternal love she’d shown him.

Alfred continued, “That was twenty years ago. When you were born, Dexter was struggling. He was close to losing control. But he still worried about your future, so he left you two choices.”

“The first was to remain an ordinary person. By the time you reached 30, he’d made a deal with the Life School of Thought to contact you. By then, you’d have accumulated enough luck to awaken from that state and live an ordinary life.”

“The second option was to become a Sequence 9 Beyonder. This would significantly reduce the curse’s effects.”

Alfred’s tone turned stern. “But remember, you can only choose the Corpse Collector Pathway potion due to the curse. Secondly, while the potion will temporarily lessen the madness, it will resurface within a year, more intense than before.”

“The potion will act like an opium, urging you to advance even if you haven’t fully digested it. So, what will you choose?”

Atlas took a deep breath, processing this torrent of information. He organized his thoughts, then voiced his questions.

“Who cursed us?”

Alfred shook his head. “I’m sorry, Master Atlas. I can’t answer that.”

Atlas waved it off, assuming Alfred was either unable or bound by an oath not to reveal the truth.

“Was my family once a powerful Beyonder family?”

Again, Alfred shook his head. “I can’t answer that either, Master Atlas.”

After a pause, Alfred added, “One more thing, Master Atlas. We only have the potions up to Sequence 7.”

Atlas’s jaw dropped. “Why?!”

“Your father left that as a challenge to you.”

“A challenge?” Atlas’s lips twitched. Some people have troublesome sons, but I have a troublesome father, he thought.

Reflecting on his choices, he realized that drawing the “Death” card hadn’t been a coincidence. In mysticism, there are no accidents—only different outcomes.

The world was changing, and those who adapted would thrive. With this in mind, Atlas made his decision.

“I want to become a Beyonder,” he said firmly.

Alfred smiled subtly, then walked over to the bookshelf, pulling out a red, blood-stained book marked with the symbol of the Death pathway. The shelf moved, revealing a dark tunnel.

Torch in hand, Alfred led the way. Atlas shook off his awe and followed him.

…

The passageway opened to a vast room lit with a purple glow. Shelves lined with neatly labeled ingredients surrounded a large workbench at the center. Alfred flipped through a book, cross-checking their supplies.

“You’re in luck, Master Atlas. We have everything we need.”

Atlas nodded, admiring the room’s grandeur, almost as large as a small bungalow. No wonder the rent is so high. My family must have once been an Angel Family.

Alfred gathered the ingredients, explaining each step as he prepared the potion. Atlas watched in fascination, like a curious child.

"You first add a blade of midsummer grass"

Alfred dropped one midsummer grass into the cauldron before taking the next ingredient

"The next 90 milliliters of beer"

Alfred took the last ingredient which Atlas guessed was a chestnut flower.

Alfred turned towards Atlas and in a excited voice continued: "That was just the supplementary ingredients. Now we're going to add the main ingredients"

Alfred faced the cauldron and added what looked like a dissected black-spotted frog.

"That was a dissected mature black-spotted frog, and now the final ingredient is fifty grams of steller aqua crystal"

Finally, Alfred handed him the potion. “Go on, Master Atlas. Drink it.”

Atlas took a deep breath and drank it. Cool and smooth, it flowed down his throat, leaving a trail of energy through his body. His vision blurred, colors intensified, and the world around him seemed to swirl into something surreal.

He closed his eyes as his senses stabilized, finding himself surrounded by a foggy vision, filled with strange, luminous clusters. A whisper drifted through his mind:

“Calderon… White Nation… Calderon… White Nation…”

…

It was nearly three o’clock. Atlas made an excuse to prepare for the Tarot Club meeting. Alfred had spent the prior hours teaching him basic cognition and spirit vision.

As the clock struck three, Atlas felt an ethereal mist around him, and suddenly, he was in a grand hall with a long bronze table.

A cheerful voice echoed, “Good afternoon, Mr. Fool.”