Beyond the Old Ones

Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is purely a fanfic for enjoyment.

Cross-over from various games, books, anime, manga, and movies.

The familiar characters you see here belong to their respected authors and owners.

"Speech"

Time*

Chapter 37: Causal Talks

Hours later*

"Huh..." I stare blankly into the distance, still carrying Aya's head in my hands.

"What are you two looking at?" Momoyo asks as she returns, a bag of fresh French loaves tucked under one arm. She casually pulls one out and offers it to me. "Want one?"

"I'm good, but thanks for the offer." I shake my head, my focus still lingering on the matter at hand. "Anyway, Aya's body is still in Paris, but its exact location is being obscured by some sort of anti-divination. That makes it nearly impossible to pinpoint for now."

"So, what you're saying is... give it time, and your power as a Seer will eventually grow strong enough to bypass it?" Momoyo raises an eyebrow, assessing me with mild curiosity.

"Yup." I nod in agreement.

"I can afford to wait until then." Aya says calmly. "It's not as if I have any other choice but to wait."

"Well, even though I can't pinpoint the exact location, I can still search around key areas until I get a rough estimate of where your body might be." I glance between the two of them before shifting the topic. "That aside, I've come across an interesting supernatural mystery. Care to explore it in the meantime? It just so happens to be here in Montmartre."

"Oh?" Momoyo pauses mid-bite, her curiosity piqued.

"A strange phenomenon has been unsettling both locals and tourists. Every night, at precisely 2:13 AM, the sound of hurried footsteps echoes through the deserted streets, yet no one is ever seen. These phantom footsteps don't follow a random path; they begin at the base of the Sacre-Coeur Basilica and move swiftly down Rue des Saules, past the old Lapin Agile cabaret, before vanishing into the hidden courtyards and alleyways of the district." I let the eerie weight of the tale settle before continuing. "Sometimes, a shadowy figure is glimpsed in passing—an outline of a man in a long coat and wide-brimmed hat, always just at the edge of vision."

"Did you obtain this information through Divination?" Momoyo asks, curiosity.

"Indeed, he did. I even watched him perform the ritual necessary to enhance the accuracy of his Divination," Aya answers before I get the chance to speak. "Yet, I still can't quite grasp how he does it. I must admit, being a Seer seems rather advantageous when it comes to gathering information."

"It sure does make me realize how powerful a real Seer is compared to all those frauds out there." Momoyo says, her voice tinged with awe. "Not to mention, your fighting skills are pretty damn impressive too. Honestly, I would've thought a Seer would be all support-based, relying on others or external tools to compensate for a lack of offensive abilities."

I sweatdrop at how painfully accurate her assumption is.

Especially considering that I'm not even the average Beyonder. I possess more than one Sefirot. If I were just an ordinary Sequence 9: Seer, I'd be extremely cautious, avoiding anything supernatural unless I somehow got incredibly lucky.

And now that I think about it, if I had knowledge of Lord of the Mysteries and actually found myself in that world, I'd be questioning everything while living in constant fear. There are just too many powerful figures lurking in the shadows.

I switched over to Card of Justiciar.

"To be fair, I had the same assumption at first, so I trained myself in unarmed combat. But of course, I use weapons as well—I'd be a fool not to take advantage of every resource available to me." I lie smoothly, keeping my expression neutral. "So, I've already performed multiple Divinations. Unless you two want to talk to the locals to gather information or should I just tell you what I've found so far?"

"Do you think we're that bored?" Momoyo scoffs, giving me a pointed look. "Of course, you should tell us what you've found. Besides, with you, we get way more accurate information upfront instead of wasting time talking to locals and filtering through half-truths just to piece together something useful. Not to mention all the effort that would take."

She finishes off the last French loaf, crumples the empty bag in her hands, and tosses it into a nearby trash can with practiced ease.

"Whispers among the older residents claim that this specter is none other than Leon Varnier, a 19th-century artist and revolutionary who vanished under mysterious circumstances on a stormy night in 1871, during the Paris Commune. According to legend, Leon was being hunted by government forces after painting an inflammatory mural—one said to reveal a terrible truth about the city's rulers. He fled through Montmartre, clutching his final masterpiece: a painting known only as La Verite Interdite—The Forbidden Truth. He was never seen again. Some say he was captured and executed in secret; others believe he vanished into the catacombs beneath the city. But his footsteps remain, retracing his desperate flight each night as if still trying to escape the fate that found him." I explain.

"Wait, hold up. I thought you had accurate predictions." Momoyo interrupts, raising a hand. "Why are you telling us about rumors? Is that why you're so interested in this supernatural mystery? Because you can't get all the information yourself?"

"Eh, it's kind of half and half." I admit. "The rumors I just told you are the best ones I've found so far. And besides, sometimes you can learn the truth just by asking the right people, but that takes a lot of time wandering around."

"You make even the finest detectives seem obsolete with your abilities as a Seer." Aya remarks, her tone carrying a mix of admiration and exasperation.

"Hey, being a Seer isn't that perfect, you know." I counter with a shrug, then pause, realizing Aya can't actually see that gesture. "Plus, I'm still growing as a Seer. I haven't reached my full potential yet. Anyway, the haunting has recently escalated. Not only have the footsteps become louder, but paintings of Leon's likeness have started appearing overnight on Montmartre's walls—each depicting him running, his face twisted in terror. Some of these images even show vague silhouettes of shadowy figures in pursuit. But the strangest part? Anyone who tries to erase or paint over these murals disappears within twenty-four hours."

"Hold up. Is this a recent thing, or has it been happening for months?" Momoyo furrows her brows in confusion.

"Recent. As in, it literally started two days ago." I reply.

A thought suddenly clicks in my mind.

That's also the exact same time I discovered my true enemies—the Fates themselves.

"Honestly." I continue. "I think I might have triggered this supernatural mystery to become a problem."

Momoyo smirks. "Because you're a Seer?"

"Most likely." I agreed.

"Returning to our discussion on Leon's supernatural mystery—how should we proceed?" Aya asks, her tone thoughtful as she addresses everyone.

"That's what stumps me a bit," I admit. "Through Divination, I can't pinpoint the exact answer. However, I do have several ideas we could try."

I'm fairly certain my Computational Divination failed due to one—or a combination—of the following reasons:

I'm still just a Sequence 9. Whatever is behind this supernatural mystery has anti-Divination measures. The Fates are involved. And the worst-case scenario—the Sefirot's aura is influencing my surroundings again. Especially the City of Calamity, Nation of Disorder, and the Key of Light.

"Oh? Then what are these ideas?" Momoyo narrows her eyes at me. "Care to share, or are you planning to be one of those annoying people who talk in riddles or act like it's best not to know the answer until the last second?"

"We become actual tourists and wander the place until we encounter it." I say in a serious tone.

Aya and Momoyo remain silent for a full minute.

"...That's it?" Momoyo gives me a deadpan look as if I just told the worst joke imaginable. "Also, aren't we already tourists? None of us are here for business—well, somewhat for business, but still. You get my point."

"There's still daylight, and we should encounter it once night falls. Instead of aimlessly searching, we let it find us by wandering the empty streets." I explain. "Plus, this gives us time to discuss our abilities and improve our teamwork. Not everything, of course—some secrets are best kept to ourselves."

"Or…" Momoyo smirks, her eyes glinting with battlelust. "We could just fight again. From personal experience, nothing helps you learn more about someone than combat."

"In the middle of the street?" I give her a look, then glance around at the passing crowd. No one seems to be paying us much attention—aside from a few curious glances toward Momoyo and Aya, who I'm still holding. Then again, it's hard not to notice them. "You do realize we'd probably level half the block, right? Not to mention all the casualties."

"I don't mean here, but somewhere else. We can always come back once we're done." Momoyo points out with a huff, crossing her arms beneath her chest. The motion inadvertently pushes them up, drawing the attention of a few passing men who stare a bit too long—only to bump into others, sparking an argument on the side.

"Right…" I mutter, choosing to ignore the minor chaos. "Regardless, I'm also setting up a ritual to deal with this. The issue is that I'll need to expand my range—much more than the rituals I've done in smaller spaces." With that, I place Aya into Momoyo's hands for her to carry. "Besides, I don't know if you've noticed, but a lot of eyes are on you."

"Of course, there are." Momoyo rolls her eyes as she walks beside me, casually adjusting her grip on Aya. "But if anything, don't think I haven't noticed the other gazes—plenty of women are ready to jump your pants." She smirks. "Men included. If you swing that way."

"Not those eyes." I shoot her a dull look. "Also, I am into females, not males."

"Ah?" Momoyo looks confused at first, but then something flickers in her eyes—understanding. "Oh, I see. Those must be the people my family hired to keep an eye on me. Probably to make sure everything's taken care of or to step in if I need help with something without resorting to my fists."

"Must be nice being rich." I say dryly.

"Eh… it has its ups and downs." Momoyo shrugs. "For one thing, I don't have any close friends. Sure, I've got friends, but not ones who really get me. And definitely not many who can match me in a fight." Her voice dips slightly, a rare hint of melancholy slipping through. "That's part of why I took on this request to find the old mountain painting. It's not like I have much keeping me back home. Or anyone worth fighting regularly."

"I see."

Reaching into my left pocket, I pull out a small, unlit black candle, no bigger than a finger. With a thought, I shift my connection to the Card of Error and, in a seemingly casual flick of the wrist, slip the black candle into a dirty, old, ruined brown boot barely visible in the shadows of an alleyway.

"Wait a second..." Momoyo furrows her eyes.

"Something wrong?" I glance at Momoyo with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, those French loaves weren't enough for me. I'm still hungry." Momoyo said in a dead serious voice.

I am speechless.

Aya sighs, then whispers. "Of course, that's the problem."

I stare at Momoyo, completely dumbfounded. "You just ate an entire bag of them."

"Yeah, and?" Momoyo is looking at me like I'm the one being unreasonable. "That was just a warm-up. You expect me to fight on an empty stomach?"

Aya groans. "You are an endless void of hunger."

Momoyo grins. "Flattery will get you nowhere, but keep talking."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Fine. We'll find a place to eat before we start anything. Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Momoyo clasps her hands together. "I want steak. Lots of it."

I sigh. "Of course you do."