As the only sorcerer capable of leaving unauthorized structures behind in the Void Realm, the Dramatic Poet was a name familiar to almost every sorcerer. Whether wandering through the Knowledge Sea or across Ruby Mountain, one had a chance of encountering his carefully prepared "Legacy Games."
Unlike most legacies that might restrict sorcery factions, the Dramatic Poet's games accommodated virtually any sorcerer. As long as you honestly abided by the rules and paid a modest price, you could obtain immensely cost-effective rewards. But if a sorcerer grew insatiably greedy and sought more, the Dramatic Poet would revoke the "newbie discount," requiring them to pay the full price to exchange for corresponding rewards.
Although the Dramatic Poet was shrouded in mystery, perhaps owing to his flashy, boisterous style, sorcerers generally figured he had to be formidable, yet not overwhelmingly so. Silver sorcerers assumed he was a legendary sorcerer; legendary sorcerers guessed he might be a God-Leader of the past. Only sorcerers like Yaxiu and his companions, who had personally witnessed God-Leaders, realized just what absurd authority the Dramatic Poet commanded.
God-Leaders could destroy heaven and earth, rewrite history, and dominate all living beings. The majesty of their six wings radiated from Heaven to every corner of the Void Realm. Yet the one thing they could not do was depart Heaven and set foot upon the mortal world! Not to mention six-winged God-Leaders, even Fanxing the Supreme could not descend into the mortal realm—had she been able to, Yaxiu would have long since been captured and locked away in a dark room by her!
Yet the Dramatic Poet was not only able to walk across the layers of the Void Realm, but could also leave behind numerous unauthorized structures that the Void Realm never demolished. At first glance, one might not think much of it, but looking back now, it was utterly preposterous—self-operating, governed by complete, self-contained rules... wasn't that virtually an eternal wonder?
Every time the Dramatic Poet left behind a special facility in the Void Realm, it was equivalent to establishing an eternal wonder belonging to the Void Realm itself. Yaxiu even suspected that these unauthorized structures would turn into world secret realms in the future—a degree of squandering that even God-Leaders would call profligate.
This mysterious entity who called himself a sorcerer wielded authority that no sorcerer could ever touch. Instead, it felt far more like another great form of life with which Yaxiu was intimately familiar—
"Hey, hey, don't tell me you two really haven't guessed who I am?"
The Dramatic Poet pulled a bag of potato chips from his bag, popping it open with a crisp smack. Munching on them, he chuckled, "Though I certainly have a deep impression of the two of you. Let's see now... Knowledge Sea, Warm Wardrobe—that was the first record you ever left with me, Spectre Prophet. I still remember how you hesitated between 'Soul Armament,' 'Vanguard Armament,' and 'Royal Guard Armament,' but in the end, you still chose the elven court dress you fell in love with at first glance to leave behind a portrait. Ah, you were quite innocent and cute back then."
"Warm Wardrobe?" Yaxiu blinked in surprise.
"It's where you pick an outfit from the wardrobe to take a photo. The higher your score, the more precious the sorcery spirit I give you." A nostalgic look crossed the Dramatic Poet's face. "That was a shop I opened six thousand years ago. Back then, everyone only cared about brawling and acting tough, completely neglecting their appearance. Swarms of grotesque oddballs roamed the land. I couldn't stand the sight of it, so I opened Warm Wardrobe in hopes of leading a fashion trend."
"Why didn't I ever run into it in the Knowledge Sea?"
"Because you guys are good-looking..." The Dramatic Poet glanced at Yaxiu, then corrected himself: "...Because the Sword Princess is good-looking. Only people with terrible fashion sense can encounter Warm Wardrobe. For example, that necromancer you know once visited Warm Wardrobe."
Yaxiu glanced at Vichy, a glimmer of delight in his eyes akin to a Lalafell finding one of its own kind. Vichy couldn't resist stomping on his foot, her face flushed with an irritated expression that practically screamed: *You're actually focusing on such trivial nonsense right now?*
The Dramatic Poet chuckled. "Don't assume the Spectre Prophet shares your taste. The elven court dress she picked suited her sixteen-year-old self perfectly—pure, lovely, bright, and cheerful. It earned a full ninety points! She just doesn't usually bother coordinating outfits. As a side note, that necromancer you know only scored three points."
Yaxiu couldn't help asking, "Do you have the photo?"
"I'll send it to you in a bit." The Dramatic Poet clicked his tongue. "To think you even want to see the necromancer's three-point photo. What heavy tastes you have."
"I actually meant—"
"Just kidding. It's already been sent to your bracelet." The Dramatic Poet grinned. "Behold: a pure, innocent version of the Spectre Prophet you've never seen before."
Yaxiu had barely activated his miracle bracelet to view the photo when Vichy snapped it off. Wearing a humorless smile, she unclasped his miracle bracelet, brought up the photo, and destroyed the evidence.
Looking up to find Yaxiu sporting that teasing *You're actually focusing on such trivial nonsense right now?* expression, she couldn't help averting her gaze in embarrassment. A faint peach blush dusted her cheeks. Pressing her lips together, she took his hand and helped him put the miracle bracelet back on.
"I take back what I said earlier," the Dramatic Poet remarked, munching on chips as he watched their interaction. "Though it wasn't an elven court dress, aside from the mirror in Warm Wardrobe, you too have now seen a pure, innocent version of the Spectre Prophet."
Yaxiu said, "Send the photos again."
"Hmm?" Vichy narrowed her eyes at him.
"I meant Harvey's. I want to see what kind of coordination could possibly score a three."
"You really have bizarre tastes..." the Dramatic Poet mumbled. He exchanged an imperceptible glance with Yaxiu; Yaxiu blinked once, and the Dramatic Poet blinked in return, completing a clandestine communication right beneath the Spectre Prophet's nose. Both the ninety-point and three-point photos landed safely in Yaxiu's gallery.
"Wait," Vichy suddenly recalled something. "My visit to Warm Wardrobe happened in my first life. I never went there after my rebirth."
"Indeed. By then, you had already developed a penchant for the slaughter aesthetic," the Dramatic Poet sighed. "Yet I still think the elven court dress suited you far better than the Black Death Armament."
Yaxiu and Vichy exchanged a look, their understanding of the Dramatic Poet refreshed once more. Not only was he aware of events in the current timeline, but he was even intimately familiar with the first timeline that Vichy had buried using the Second Cycle god!
"Dramatic Poet," Yaxiu squatted down to meet him at eye level. "Are you the eighth?"
The Dramatic Poet licked the potato chip crumbs from his fingertips, tilting his head in thought for a moment. "That's the first time I've ever heard someone refer to me as 'the eighth.' I know what you're asking... All I can say is, I don't really count."
Not a denial, but not entirely one either... Yaxiu reached over and pinched a chip. "I have a question for you."
"Ask away. But I don't know everything—I've just lived a little longer than most."
"The Prime Angel was locked inside the Cage of All Stars for half a year. Why didn't you save her?"
Vichy froze, completely unprepared for Yaxiu to ask such a thing. It was clear the Dramatic Poet was caught off guard as well. He gazed in silence at Yaxiu munching on the chip while the patter of rain tapped against the stone ground outside.
"...I thought that after taking half of the Supreme Holy Grail, you would start rejoicing in having taken part in a feast that decided the world's fate, rejoicing that you witnessed an angel's fall." The Dramatic Poet took off his hat and spoke calmly, "You surprise me even more than the Spectre Prophet... I never imagined you truly cared about her."
"I care about many people in the Nation of Stars as well." Yaxiu asked, "Do you care about the Prime Angel?"
"If there are only two choices—'caring' and 'not caring'—then I certainly care. Even though she rarely paid attention to me, dedicating herself wholeheartedly to maintaining the balance of the world, even a Lalafell earns your affection after enough time together. Not to mention we've been friends ever since meeting at the source of the River of Flowing Gold."
The Dramatic Poet paid no mind to the earth-shattering secret he had blurted out so casually, continuing, "But our values differ from yours. Take an analogy: when the wind sees the rain stop, do you think the wind mourns?"
"She chose to become the rain that bathes all living things; I chose to become the wind that turns the windmill. She never interfered with me, so naturally I wouldn't disturb her. That is simply our way of existing."
"Besides," the Dramatic Poet put his hat back on and shrugged, "I'm not as formidable as you imagine. I never fight anyone, because I can't beat anyone at all."
*No combat capability?*
Vichy's predatory instincts flared instantly. The Dramatic Poet glanced at her and added with a light chuckle, "I am, however, quite fast at running away. Since ancient times, plenty of people have tried to make trouble for me. Those six fellows even chased me for several hundred years, yet they've come into contact with me fewer times than those three little brats just now... Perhaps that is also why they turned their sights toward the Prime Angel, who is far more powerful than me but doesn't run around all over the place."
Yaxiu thought that made sense. Had there been any way to deal with the Dramatic Poet, Fanxing wouldn't have spent over a thousand years constructing the Cage of All Stars to lie in wait for prey. If the Dramatic Poet truly possessed no combat ability whatsoever, his survival skills were probably unmatched throughout the Void Realm—even if the Void Realm blew up, he would likely be just fine.
"Then what about Hell?"
Yaxiu asked, "Do you not care about the six levels of Hell being devoured either?"
The Dramatic Poet shook his head. "There is nothing I can do. I'm sorry, but this is something only you all can resolve. I am merely a director of dramas, a poet penning lyrics. There has never been a place for me on the world's stage."
Yaxiu pressed, "But surely you know how to deal with the World-Devouring Serpent? Not even a single hint?"
The Dramatic Poet pondered for a moment and said earnestly, "A believing heart is your miracle?"
Yaxiu completely understood the three little brats' fury from earlier. He rolled up his sleeves, wanting nothing more than to give this guy a beating. Now it was Vichy's turn to hold him back as she asked, "Then what are you doing appearing before us?"
The Dramatic Poet replied, "The wind of Senluo told me that the Spectre Prophet had fallen into depravity. Wondering just how much further the Spectre Prophet could possibly fall, I came over in person to see. Who would have thought she'd regress all the way back to when she was sixteen? I simply had to preserve the image of you two holding hands as crucial historical material... Whoa, whoa, whoa! We're in the city center, don't do anything reckless!"
This time, it was Yaxiu's turn to hold back Vichy, who was about to unleash a Soul Screech. He snapped crossly, "So what did you actually come here for?"
"Alright, alright, no more joking around. My snacks are almost finished anyway." The Dramatic Poet tore open the final packet of teddy bear biscuits. "It's truly bizarre. Anyone else knows exactly what to ask me the moment they see me, yet you two ask about this and that, never once hitting the main point..."
"I came to tell you how to elevate the Kingdom of Heaven and step into Heaven."
Chapter 1190