Chapter 10: The Fool

Possibilities under and over possibilities. This is what Ethan has been hearing all night long, he couldn't sleep, nor could he think consciously, he started slapping him…just to snap out of it, when he did he realised that Lisa had already left for school and it was 10:37 am, as jumped off the small bed, grabbed he's new tarot card, cane and put Alaric's revolver in he's suit's jetted pocket, put his fedora on his head and left the house.

If fate really can't be resisted, there isn't really any point of resisting. 

Ethan walked through the cobbled streets of wictorian, a vendor he had passed by said, "you're late to this chapter." He immediately pulled out he's tarot card instinctively. 'How did he know? What does he know? Does he also know we're in a story?' Ethan's mind raced as he pointed the tarot card at him and suddenly…

In the vendor's perspective, Ethan's head was really there, it was swirling high up into the sky, A suffocating darkness churned above, twisting like a living entity, its tendrils writhing as they reached downward, sinking into the figure below. The air crackled with an unnatural energy, the weight of something vast and unseen pressing against the fabric of reality itself.

It seemed as though an endless darkness was spiraling upwards and downwards endlessly in the place of Ethan's head, and suddenly, Ethan stopped, he himself didn't know what happened…

A smirk appeared on the vendor's face, "well, well, well detective, got some new fancy powers." Of course the vendor was Lucius. 

"Lucius?-.." a sigh left Ethan as he put the tarot card back into he's pocket, "well your first day of becoming metacognitive is going smoothly so far." 

Ethan rolled his eyes as Lucius disappeared just as fast as he appeared, and Timmy the dove arrived, for the sake of Timmy's purity, he won't tell him that he's in a story.

"Any cases today?" Ethan asked, adjusting his fedora as he strolled down the dimly lit streets.

"Nope!" Timmy chirped from his usual perch on Ethan's shoulder. "But I was thinking about checking in with those Heretics again."

Ethan sighed. "I see."

A short walk later, they arrived at Cumming Street. The entrance to the Heretics' meeting place was as unassuming as ever—just a worn-down doorway leading into a dimly lit room where six figures sat in quiet discussion. Ethan took his usual spot in a bronze chair, the metal cold against his back.

Shallow White, the group's de facto leader, wasted no time. "Starting off with bad news: an entity who possesses authority over certain pathways will be arriving in Wictorian soon." She leaned forward, her pale fingers tapping against the wooden table. "Leopold."

Ethan's heart sank.

That was bad news.

"Fuck, why is my life moving so fast? Just write me a chapter of peace." Ethan thought bitterly.

Shallow White continued, mentioning something about the Wheel of Misfortune pathway, but Ethan's mind had already shifted gears. His thoughts weren't on understanding—they were on escaping.

He cleared his throat. "Ahem—excuse me for interrupting at such a dire time, but I do have to use the bathroom."

A brief pause. Then, Shallow White waved a hand dismissively. "…Go."

Ethan wasted no time. He quickly walked—no, practically rushed—to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He pulled out his Divinator tarot card, his fingers gripping it tightly.

Timmy fluttered onto the sink. "Even with another tarot card, it seems like your Faceless Pathway card has merged with the Divinator Pathway card."

Ethan's brows furrowed. "So I still have the face-shifting ability?"

Timmy nodded. "Yep. A merged card means a merged skillset. You've still got your old powers."

Ethan exhaled sharply and pressed the tarot card to his forehead, whispering a quick prayer for safety.

…

But since he was in a horror story…

…

A loud crash erupted from the meeting room.

Ethan's stomach twisted. He spun around and threw open the door, rushing back—only to be met with a scene straight out of a nightmare.

Victor William was impaled.

His body hung in the air, blood dripping down his suit in slow, deliberate streams.

And in front of him, standing in the dim candlelight, was an angel.

No, not an angel—something far worse.

Its skin was red, like it had been flayed raw, yet it gleamed as if forged from polished metal. A pair of white, feathery wings extended from its back—but there were more. Too many. Layer upon layer of wings, some broken, some whole, twitching unnaturally.

And above its head…

A halo.

No, not a halo. A wheel.

A shifting, rotating mechanism of celestial metal, etched with incomprehensible symbols, turning with a whisper that sounded like a thousand prayers spoken at once.

The Wheel of Misfortune.

…

The wheel of misfortune wasted no time in killing the other members of heretics..only the sequence 2 of the dominator pathway remained…Madame shallow white, she immediately engaged in combat but just like the rest…she was also killed…for the creature..the dominator pathway held no power over it, for the wheel of misfortune had authority over the following pathways; wheel of misfortune, dominator, oracle, faceless, avenger…

The mere sight of wheel of misfortune can lead ordinary humans to insanity, but for people who have already interacted with beings above all conceptual of dimensions such as Ethan…who had talked with Lucius…

He wasn't affected..because mister Lucius doesn't let anyone he deems unworthy, change he's story..

A large nuke was dropped on the country of Leopold…the entire planet was destroyed…

In the infinite darkness of space and time…there was Ethan gray's original body floating…but for those whose true self exists in the mirror world, they can't be killed as long as all infinite possibilities in the mirror world, where one mirrors contains the cosmology in it, infinity, in an endless realm…and there are infinite number of mirrors…all under mister Omnipotent's control..

There…floating in the vastness of absolute totality…'so I'm no longer alive?.. being he main character wasn't enough for me to be alive…

a voice rang in Ethan's ear, "what is your wish?" The voice said..'wish?….lets give this a try..my wish is…bring back Leopold and the universe.."

The wish was made…Ethan was back in Alaric's body!!….but the heretics…he pulled out he's divinator tarot card and called for Lucius and he appeared insanely fast.

"Yes detective? Mister omnipotent and omniscient at your service?" Lucius said with he's ever present smirk.."are the heretics here?.." Ethan asked already regretting asking.

"Nah, you wished to bring the universe back not the heretics…" Lucius said calmly.

…

Here's an improved and expanded version with better flow, atmosphere, and dialogue:

As Ethan moved silently through the fog-laden streets of Cumming Street, Timmy the dove perched quietly on his fedora. He sensed Ethan's mood was off and, for once, chose to stay silent.

He entered the house. The bronze meeting table. The bronze chairs. The heavy silence that filled the air. No matter how much he tried to push the memory away, the image of Victor being impaled was still fresh in his mind. His body tensed as he lowered himself onto Shallow White's chair.

Was he now the leader of the dead heretics?

The room remained unchanged, at least in appearance. But in truth, this place was no ordinary house—it was a pocket dimension, an eerie space where thick fog swirled endlessly, coiling around the furniture like silent phantoms.

Then, suddenly, two voices rang out.

"Where am I?" a deep, masculine voice demanded.

"Ah! Who said that? Show yourself!" a second voice—feminine, sharp—snapped back.

Ethan tensed, his gaze snapping toward the fog as two figures emerged from its depths. They stepped closer to the bronze table, and as the mist parted, their faces became visible.

The woman's eyes darted between Ethan and the other man, suspicion burning behind them. "Who are you!?" she demanded, her stance shifting defensively.

"The real question is—who are both of you?" the man shot back, his sharp gaze flicking between them.

Then, the man's attention landed on Ethan. His brows furrowed. "You… why is your face covered in fog?"

The woman turned to Ethan as well, and her expression shifted—widening with uncertainty. "Uh… are you alright?" she asked cautiously.

Ethan resisted the urge to curse. He needed to think fast. What could he possibly say?

He straightened slightly in the chair, regaining his composure. "I am the leader of a tarot card club," he said evenly. "And you are?"

A brief pause. Then—

"Eloise Halls," the woman said, still wary.

"Cassian Dorne," the man followed, though his suspicion didn't wane. He narrowed his eyes. "I'll ignore the fact that your face is covered in mist… for now. But where exactly are we?"

"Same question," Eloise added. "What is this place?"

Ethan hesitated for only a second before answering.

"This…" he exhaled slowly, carefully choosing his words, "is the Antigua of Tarot Cards."

It was the best lie he could come up with. He couldn't call it the meeting room for the Heretics—not when they were no longer here.

Not when they were dead.

Here's an improved version with better flow, characterization, and refined dialogue:

"I am the leader of this tarot club," Ethan declared, his voice steady. "And it seems you two have wandered into my domain."

Cassian's expression remained unreadable, but his mind was already racing.

'Leader, huh? Tarot cards weren't just some playthings—they were mystical, powerful artifacts capable of toppling empires. The smartest move here was to play along, at least until he understood the situation.

On the other hand, Eloise barely hid her distaste. 'Tarot cards…?' She'd heard her father whisper about them in hushed conversations, though he'd never let her anywhere near them. 'I always wanted one… but I can't risk revealing who I really am.' Her gaze flicked to Ethan, and she internally grimaced. 'Gosh… do I really have to listen to whatever this fedora-wearing bookie says? He should know that a suit and hat don't mask the smell of the lower class.'

Ethan leaned back slightly, watching them both. "And how shall we address you, sir?" they finally asked in unison.

A moment of silence. Then, after brief consideration, Ethan spoke.

"You may call me… The Jester." A pause. "Or, if you prefer, The Fool—representative of the Jester tarot card."

Cassian stiffened ever so slightly. 'Representative?! Fuck… I've only heard rumors about what happens to those who anger a representative. No, Cassian—stay calm. Stay in control.' He forced himself to breathe, though his fingers twitched slightly.

Meanwhile, Eloise's first thought was far less dramatic. The Jester? She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 'This guy's already a big enough fool. I just want to go home.'

[End of introduction arc.]

(A/N: Lots of credits to cuttlefish for the idea of the whole story! Love that author! And cassian is inspired by Alger Willson and Louise is inspired by Audrey halls!)