Muhati had a feeling that the witch kings might not be very happy to see him return.

The Psychic Warlock shielded himself from prying eyes with his abilities and created several clones to confuse the Stalker. But he knew in his heart that against the Witch King, these methods could delay a little time at most.

Therefore, as soon as he returned to the magic ship, he ordered to set sail immediately. Due to the growing tension between the Fatimid and Astral First Sects, the Folk Magic Ship could not go directly to Atas, but could only fly from Mystara. After thinking about it, Muhathir decided not to be too conspicuous and agreed to the arrangement.

Captain Simon, who had been transformed into an undead, did not seem to have lost his professional skills, at least in Muhadi's opinion, there was nothing wrong with his command, and he was much more honest. In this way, dying once really helps to improve character, which is never mentioned in educational theories on earth.

Some of the sailors seemed to be oblivious to the sudden change in the captain, probably accustomed to all sorts of strange things that had happened to him. However, there are also a small number of crew members who appear to be suspicious. A GisYankee sailor in a cardigan, with rotten teeth and a pair of yellow eyes, confronted the Psychic Warlock directly after a few puffs of alcohol.

"Our captain. He spoke, a puff full of wine that made the Psychic Warlock frown. "It looks a little different, what's wrong with you?"

"I'm glad you've noticed that he's become more cultured too. The Psychic Warlock said. "Now return to your post, sailor, the ship is about to set sail. ”

"I don't mean his upbringing!" the Giss Yankee spoke with a strong accent. "How did he turn into a skeleton? What the hell are you doing on this planet of the main physical plane? ”

"It's not a ghost, but you're not far off. Muhati frowned and glanced at the sailor. "I suggest you just imagine the details. Otherwise, you'll have to follow him to lose weight. ”

The sailor took a step back, fear overshadowing doubt in the fluctuations of his thoughts.

Dragos, Malik, and Lyra, who has been hidden, and her "grand plan...... As the magic ship took off and sailed towards the endless astral plane, Muhadi silently recited these names in his mind, thoughtful.

The closer the magic ship gets to the star field where Atas is located, the more often it encounters the ships of pilgrims from various worlds. Some of them are traditional and rustic, and they look no different from ordinary sea boats. There are also some ships that look weird, such as giant nautilus, or large squid. At the time of Muhadi's disappearance, the ambitious Witch King, the zealots of jihadist ideology, the greedy merchants and the sandbands combined into an unbelievably powerful force. Templars, Psychic Warlocks, Starch Spencer Druids, savage nomads from a thousand tribes constantly expand their borders, always marching in all directions. Now, these conquered worlds are the source of a new wave of jihad. The process seemed overwhelming, but the Psychic could sense that a great schism was imminent.

The Atas are essentially a short-lived and scarce ethnic group. Very few humans live past the age of fifty without disease or disaster in Atas, and even the Atas elves can live to be one hundred and fifty years old. Taken together, the total number of intelligent beings in Atas does not exceed 40 million, which is less than the population of a single country in some prosperous worlds. The colossal magic ship that crossed the astral plane, the extraordinary flesh-enhancing technology of the Starch Spencer Pai, the witch king's spells that shattered the stars—all of this could not change the nature of the Athas, the last inhabitants of an ancient but dying cruel world, cruel and violent, cunning and treacherous.

The wisdom of the nomadic tradition has overwhelmed the Athas in front of the vastness of the stars, and the vastness of the multiverse is completely incomprehensible to them.

The conquerors of Attas, who worship the only true god, claim to rule over thousands of conquered worlds, half-planes and planes. The power of the empire is stretched as thin as a cicada's wings by this vast territory, and the worlds are far apart from each other. Rebellions arose one after another, and they were never completely extinguished. The Athas tribesmen have earned a reputation as tough and ruthless for their enemies against the enemies of the realms with the skills they learned in the blood-red sun-drenched desert, and have sown more and more seeds of rebellion. The Witch Kings who form the backbone of the Great Expedition are ambitious, and the tribesmen and revolutionaries, the Psychic and the Grand Druid, the Guardian Mages and the Blasphemer Mages are at odds.

Not to mention the pseudo-prophet Danjar, who has already attracted many followers, and Lyra, who is hiding in the shadows.

Lyra's strange psionic powers and unspeakable blood magic used the connection between Muhadi and his own heirs to extract the power of some of the Wise Men and the Wise Men of the Worlds. Her purpose and motives, the Psychic Warlock could only guess—and the most conservative of them was enough to send him tremble from the depths of his soul.

The night before arriving in Mystala, the Psychic had dreamed for the first time in a long time.

The earth is barren and dead, the sky is gray and dark, and the surrounding area is vast and lifeless.

"False prophets. A voice rang out, reverberating through the dream.

"Who's there!" Mouhadi shouted.

"A person who has been replaced by you. The voice said. Then, the figure of Danjar appeared in the dream.

"It turned out to be my impostor. Muhati responded. "Are you tired of hiding and wanting to end your existence?"

"I'm not here to fight you, Rajat. Danjar shook his head, his voice distant, tired. "Instead, I'm here to propose a win-win plan. ”

"Say whatever you want," the psychic man clasped his hands in his dream. "It's my freedom to listen or not. ”

"Why do you insist on calling yourself Muhadi?Why do you deceive yourself when you know that you are the Primordial Warlock, that you are Rajat?, and that the wise men have revealed your real name?" said Danjar in an almost sincere tone. "You can restore Rajat to my real name and give me back my identity. Between you and me, we don't have to fight. I can even swear allegiance to you—provided you swear allegiance to the first cause. ”

"I am the voice and shadow of the Great Lord in the multiverse, and no one is loyal to me. ”

"Then you have no reason to refuse. Danjar said. "Why don't you wipe out a bloody civil war before it begins? What about your love for the world? Would you rather shed blood in the multiverse for the sake of self-deception?"

"I am Muhadi. The Psychic Warlock shook his head, rejecting the offer. "Unquestionable, indisputable. ”

Danjar was silent for a long time, and then he shrugged. "If you want to keep pretending, then whatever you want...... However, no disguise can hide loneliness. All your relationships are built on lies at least, weak and vulnerable. You know deep down that even when you're in a crowd, you're with a group of strangers. You are also a stranger to yourself. ”

Nietzsche, Thus Said Zarathustra, chap. 2. The psychic replied. "You come from my soul fragments, so you can only find chapters and sentences, and pick up people's teeth. ”

"Or on the contrary, I am the one who was born on the earth and came from the earth. You've just devoured the fragments of my soul with the Mind Demon Seed. ”

The Psychic Warlock tried to refute, but Danjar's figure was gone.

Next, his master, Lyra, also appeared in the dream. Her face was blurred, and she said in the voice of an old woman, a beast, a man, and a child, "The wheel of fate has turned, and the prophesied moment is coming. You're too late!" sounds like some kind of threat.

"Time is relative. Muhadi retorted. "There is no difference between early and late, and the order in which events occur is not necessarily in different frames of reference. ”

Lyra's face fluctuated like flowing water, and faces appeared and disappeared...... In the end, her face actually changed into Aisha's appearance. The girl's voice said, "You're too late!". This time, it didn't sound like a threat, but rather a bit of grievance.

"When is it too late?" asked the Psychic Warlock, confused.

"Before you show up. Before the Witch Kings appeared. Before the emergence of civilization in Attas. What has been done will be done again, and what will be done will be done at the end. The girl's voice replied, bewildered. "Time is vision, the past is the future, and the future is the past. ”

"I don't understand what you're talking about. ”

"Don't you remember? Of course, you can't remember the history that is going to happen, but it's already happening. Muhadi," the maiden said the name of the Psychic Warlock. "Rajat," she said another, "Ring Messenger." ”

"Don't you understand? You're Alpha, you're Omega, you're the beginning and the end. Time...... Time is a twisted labyrinth, and you are the monster entrenched in it—an Ouroboros that swallows its tail. Like all the wise men, you are one of the keynotes, and when I'm ready, the multiverse will sound my song. ”

"Congratulations, they all say that the crazier the psychic mancer, the more powerful they are. The Psychic Warlock cautiously congratulated. "Looks like you're a lot better. ”

The dream trembled, then blurred, and everything vanished.

The next day, the crew of the magic ship awakened the Psychic Warlock in horror.

Half of the sailors were missing, there were no signs of a fight, no signs of magic or psionic powers. Using psionic energy to probe the past, they couldn't find any clues, they were already on the ship, as usual, and then suddenly disappeared, without a trace.

Muhadi was shocked, although his face did not change color at all. Next, he discovered something even more unbelievable.

The magic ship he was on was not the same one he had been.

It looks almost identical, the same structure, the same decorations, even the damage left from the previous battle. However, further exploration revealed that some of the decks were made of planks that had gone through hundreds of years overnight. Some of the ship's sheaves that held the cables in place seemed to work better than before, and two crew members who had been suffering from a chronic illness that had been thought impossible to cure were cured. There were also a couple of sailors who seemed to be a little younger. And so on.

What has been done will be done again, and what will be done will be done at the end. Muhathir repeated the strange slogan and seemed to understand something.

"How long do we have to get to Mystara?" asked the Psychic Wizard to a startled sailor.

"What?" the man seemed to be a native of the astral plane, a half-elf old pirate, rude, dirty, and somewhat frightened by incomprehensible strange events. "Shouldn't we be looking into what happened?"

"Half of them are missing, and the rest can work as much. Muhathir said. "How many days will it take to get to Mystara at the earliest?"

"Three days, three days at the earliest. The sailor, compelled by the majesty of the telemancer, replied.

"Make it happen. Muhadi ordered.