Lord of the Mysteries: I'm Not Evil God

Chapter 9: The Name Beneath the Mask

The alley twisted behind him.

Shadows bent at angles that didn't belong in Euclidean space. The lamps flickered in and out of sync, like breaths caught between lies.

And yet, Eiren kept walking.

District 6 had always been silent.

But tonight, it watched.

He followed the rumor — of a man with a mask sewn into his flesh, screaming Lyra's name in his sleep.

The building was a half-burned chapel, once belonging to the God of Steam. Graffiti now covered the walls: spirals, mirror glyphs, and the faded ouroboros etched in soot. Cultists of the Faceless Sovereign had claimed this place years ago.

Eiren pushed open the broken door.

It didn't creak. It exhaled.

Inside, a man sat alone in the pews, back to him. Cloaked in tattered robes marked with layered masks and mirror shards.

He wasn't whispering doctrine.

He was humming.

A tune that stopped Eiren cold.

That tune. He knew it. From long ago.

The man's shoulders tensed. Slowly, he turned.

And Eiren saw the cultist's face—or what was left of it.

Streaked with ink. The eyes unfocused. Lips moving silently as if trying to remember language.

A name was carved into the skin of his arm.

Not a divine name.

Not a god's.

Lyra.

"Who are you?" Eiren asked.

The cultist blinked. His voice rasped:

"I... don't know. But I remember you."

Suddenly, the system pinged:

[Unstable Cultist Detected – Sequence 9: Whisperer]

Status: Devotion Fractured

Cognitive Anchor Detected: Lyra → Persistent Memory Ghost

Velkaris Gaze: Refracted

Eiren stepped closer. The air between them shimmered with broken illusions.

He saw, for a heartbeat, the man's true past:

A boy running through ink-stained alleys.

Laughing with a sister.

Reading stories of gods never meant to be real.

"You were my friend," Eiren said, without knowing how.

The cultist nodded slowly, hand shaking as he reached into his cloak.

He pulled out a page — one torn from a forbidden text.

On it was written:

"He was not always the Faceless One. He had a name. He wore it like a wound."

Eiren took the page.

"Velkaris is afraid," the cultist whispered. "Not of death. Of being remembered."

Suddenly, the mirror behind the altar cracked violently.

And a voice—calm, cold, silk-smooth—echoed through the chapel.

"Enough remembering."

The cultist screamed as his own shadow rose and dragged him backward.

Eiren lunged, grabbing the man's hand—just long enough to hear him say:

"My name… was Thalen."

"Tell her… I tried to remember."

Then he was gone.

The pews empty. The glyphs burning away into dust.

Only the torn page remained in Eiren's hand.

[New Clue Obtained: Velkaris's Name Was Erased]

[Memory Resistance Gained: +10%]

[Cultist Recovered Identity Fragment – Crosslink: Lyra]

Eiren stood alone in the chapel, staring at the cracked mirror.

For the first time, it didn't show his reflection.

It showed Velkaris—face smooth, unreadable, silent.

But for just one breath…

His hand trembled.

End of Chapter 9