Pons Bénet's grip tightened relentlessly, his eyes bloodshot and bulging.
If it hadn't been for the fact that Lumian couldn't speak or that his vision had started to fade to black, he would have thanked him.
Suddenly, a hand appeared from nowhere, grasping Pons Bénet's hair at the back of his head, trying to forcibly pry him off Lumian.
"What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to kill him? Have you lost your damn mind?"
Pierre Berry growled in a deep voice as he intervened, stopping Pons Bénet.
But Pons Bénet wouldn't listen. His crimson eyes locked onto Lumian, his mind consumed by fury and murderous intent. All he could think of was killing this bastard.
Whack!
Pierre Berry swung his right leg up, striking Pons Bénet's groin with his brand-new leather shoe.
Pons Bénet reflexively let go, clutching his crotch, squeezing his thighs together, and collapsing to the ground.
He whimpered involuntarily, his face contorted in agony, like a rooster being strangled by the neck.
Pierre Berry glanced at him coolly and said, "Once you've recovered, bring Lumian to the altar. The ritual is about to begin."
He shifted his gaze, bending down to assess Lumian's condition.
As Lumian's senses returned and he slowly opened his eyes, he straightened up and nodded.
His darkening vision restored to clarity, the pain in his neck became more apparent. Lumian was disheartened to find that his view was not of the familiar ceiling of his bedroom but of Pierre Berry's bloodied face.
Am I still alive? He wondered subconsciously as he turned his head and spotted Pons Bénet curled up on the ground.
"Pathetic!" Lumian spat contemptuously. "If you can't satisfy women and can't even kill a man, what's the point of living?"
Pons Bénet felt a wave of rage surge through his head. If it weren't for the lingering pain in his groin and Pierre Berry's watchful eye, he would have snapped once more.
…
Lumian and Aurore's house lay in ruins, more than half its roof missing.
Ryan, Leah, and Valentine crept back under the moon and starlight.
Once they confirmed the area was clear, Ryan turned to Leah and said, "Tonight's situation is worse than we thought. Perform divination."
As they traveled from Cordu Village to Lumian's house, they noticed that every house was empty. They had no idea where everyone had gone.
This was a shocking anomaly!
"Alright." Leah nodded.
Before she could take out a pen and paper to write a divination statement, Ryan reminded her, "Be cautious. Choose the direction of the divination carefully. Don't attempt it if it feels too risky."
"Understood." Leah was well-versed in this area. She knew that Cordu was a place filled with danger and abnormalities. A minor error in the divination direction could lead to severe injuries or loss of control.
After a few moments of contemplation, she entered Aurore's bedroom, which now lacked a wall along the corridor, and found a manuscript to use as a medium.
As Leah wrote the divination statement, Ryan and Valentine entered Lumian's room where they had been sleeping.
Ryan's brownish-yellow suitcase sat beside the desk near the window, concealed by the curtain.
Seeing that the item was still there, Ryan breathed a sigh of relief and said to Valentine, "Make the preparations."
As he spoke, he pulled the suitcase out, placed it on the ground, and undid the brass-like metal buckle.
Valentine opened his arms slightly, and illusory golden flames emerged from the void, illuminating the room.
With Sunlight, Ryan finally dared to open his suitcase with a grave expression.
Inside, there were no clothes, books, or coins—just a strange, folded scarecrow lying quietly.
The scarecrow's eyes were covered with thick black cloth strips. Its face, neck, palms, feet, and calves were made of brownish-green straw, but its arms, chest, and thighs were covered in real, slightly pale-white skin.
This was a mystical item that the joint investigation team had acquired from the Eternal Blazing Sun Church's Riston diocese before their departure.
Teams at their level could request Sealed Artifacts to handle abnormalities.
Ryan closed his eyes, and information about the mystical item before him naturally surfaced in his mind.
"Number: 2
"Name: Tanago Scarecrow.
"Danger Grade: 2. Dangerous. Use with care and moderation. It can only be applied for operations that require three or more people. Security clearance requires a diocesan bishop.
"Security classification: Bishop, Team Captain, or above.
"Description: This scarecrow was first discovered in the Tanago region of Riston Province, near the remnants of a village annihilated by a cult's worship ritual.
"Two Purifiers, ten police officers, and 76 farmers vanished after passing by the farm where the scarecrow was placed, never to be seen again.
"Research suggests that those who enter a 30-meter radius of the scarecrow and lock eyes with it will lose self-awareness and be drawn towards it uncontrollably. Within moments, they disappear, leaving behind only their possessions and garments.
"At the zenith of sunlight, the scarecrow loses its power; touching it or meeting its gaze has no effect.
"A farmer from a neighboring village claims the scarecrow was once ordinary, indistinguishable from others until the village farmland it protected was decimated.
"With each disappearance, flesh and skin appear on a small portion of the scarecrow.
"Its ultimate transformation remains a mystery, but revival seems a likely outcome.
"The scarecrow already displays signs of life, moving at night and attempting to break free from its containment.
"Sealing Method: Blindfold it with a thick, black cloth and enclose it in a confined, dark space.
"Usage Process: Remove the scarecrow only under sunlight, and unbind the black cloth from its eyes.
"Appendix: 1. Avoid its gaze at all costs. Even under the protection of sunlight, you risk enduring lasting nightmares and mental debilitation.
"2. Limit interaction with the scarecrow to no more than two minutes per session. Excessive use intensifies its determination to escape and resist.
...
"3. Warning: Permanently seal the scarecrow before it acquires enough flesh."
As Ryan and Valentine investigated the Sealed Artifact's possible loss or escape, Leah entered a dream divination state.
Whispering the divination incantation to locate Aurore, she sat at her desk, reclined in her chair, closed her eyes, and quickly drifted into slumber.
Guided by her four silver bells, Leah glimpsed Aurore, clad in a simple white robe, in a surreal, distorted world. She recognized an altar, nearby villagers, and the distant stained glass and golden walls of a cathedral…
Leah's eyes flew open, and she bolted from the room. Breathlessly, she informed Ryan and Valentine, "They're all at the cathedral! Performing a ritual!"
…
Inside the cathedral of the Eternal Blazing Sun.
Pons Bénet carried the disappointed Lumian toward the altar adorned with lilacs and tulips. Pierre Berry, keeping a watchful eye, accompanied them.
Glancing at his sister Aurore, her eyes vacant, Lumian turned to Pierre Berry and sneered.
"You're nothing but a coward and a piece of trash!"
The shepherd shot him a glance but remained silent, his expression unchanging.
...
Undeterred, Lumian continued, grinning, "Your woman died of illness, yet you did nothing. You just put your faith in a malevolent god. Didn't she die because the factory owner overworked her and paid her next to nothing? If I were you, I'd have hunted down that boss and hung his whole family from the factory chimney! But you didn't! You were too scared. Scared you'd die too. Trash, coward!"
As Lumian studied Pierre Berry's subtle reactions, he slyly added Provocation to his final words.
Pierre Berry's expression contorted; his gentle gaze slowly morphed into a menacing glare, as if a hidden seal had been broken, unleashing the demon within.
Padre Guillaume Bénet, at the altar, barked sternly, "Control yourself!"
Pierre Berry shuddered and came to his senses.
In retaliation, he ripped a piece of cloth from his ragged attire, crumpled it into a ball, and shoved it into Lumian's mouth.
F*ck! Lumian struggled fiercely, but to no avail.
He kept cursing and adding Provocation, but time was against him. His mouth was fully gagged by the cloth, and he could no longer speak.
Panic and despair welled up in Lumian's heart, threatening to overwhelm him.
He desperately reined in his emotions, warding off any thoughts of surrender.
Carried to the altar, Lumian's mind raced, searching for alternative ways to end his life.
Soon, he was presented before the padre, the massive black thorn symbol separating him from Aurore.
Guillaume Bénet motioned for Pierre Berry to help Lumian to his feet, then scrutinized the young man's face and smiled.
"You're tougher than I thought, but you're still lacking. The world is so hard a man must have two fathers to look after him, yet you have none. No one to teach you the ways of life."
"The world is so hard a man must have two fathers to look after him" was a popular saying in Intis. It referred to both a biological father and a societal father—often known as a godfather.
This was why the people of Intis often acknowledged godfathers and godmothers.
The padre taunted Lumian for being an orphan, with neither a godfather nor a father.
In response, Lumian wished he could retort, mocking the padre about his own child having three, no, four fathers—the padre himself, his godfather, his mother's lover… If the gag hadn't held tight, Lumian would definitely have taunted the padre enough to make him lose his mind, killing him on the spot.
Unfortunately, he couldn't say anything.
"Should we begin the ritual now?" Pierre Berry inquired of Guillaume Bénet.
The padre shook his head.
"Let's wait a bit longer."
"What for?" Pierre Berry asked, puzzled.
The padre offered no answer, but Lumian was already devising a new suicide plan.
Suddenly, inspiration struck.
Enter a deep Cogitation state and submit to the scrutiny of the two entities. Eagerly, he sought the enigmatic and horrifying voice, hoping to provoke his own breakdown and loss of control.
Lumian glanced at Aurore, her face blank and her eyes empty, but otherwise unchanged. He closed his eyes.
First, he envisioned the crimson sun. Once calm, he transformed it into the orb adorned with eyes and a cross.
Silently, Lumian "saw" the faint gray fog once more. He "saw" the chaos of overlapping colors and indescribable, non-existent things.
Yet this time, he didn't sense the gaze of an entity lurking within the fog or looming high above.
Why is it different? Lumian's eyes snapped open in surprise.
Just then, a figure entered through the cathedral doors.
Clad in a black robe and a wide hood, the man's face was obscured by shadows. He stood tall, around 1.8 meters in height.
As the mysterious figure approached the altar, the padre stepped aside deferentially, his demeanor humble and reverent.
Who is that? The one behind the padre? Lumian puzzled, peering closer.
The more he studied the man, the more familiar he seemed, as though Lumian had encountered him before.
Suddenly, it clicked.
This was the figure lurking in the corner of the Warlock's tomb!
The black-robed man ascended the altar and stood before Lumian. Leaning forward slightly, he stifled a chuckle.
"Did you realize that Cogitation is useless?"
What? How does he know? Lumian stared at him, shocked and bewildered.
At this proximity, even with the hood concealing his features, Lumian could discern the black-robed man's face.
He was a young man in his late teens, his limbs long and lean, his hair short and jet-black, his eyes a light blue, and his features sharply chiseled. He was strikingly handsome.
What… Lumian's gaze locked onto the man.
He knew this face all too well. He saw it every day when he looked in the mirror.
It was himself!
-x-X-x-
Lumian noticed that the black-robed man's face was nearly identical to his own, save for a few subtle differences.
The depths of the stranger's light-blue eyes held a faint silver-black hue. It was unclear whether the shadow of the hood affected the man's complexion or if his skin was naturally a shade darker.
"Who are you?!" Lumian blurted out in shock, his words muffled by the cloth in his mouth, leaving only indistinct movements.
The black-robed man smiled without introducing himself, turning and walking towards the padre.
Lumian strained to follow, desperate to learn the man's identity, his purpose, and why he had appeared in the dead Warlock's tomb.
This was crucial to him.
Although the padre's ability to retain memories within the loop was surprising, it wasn't inexplicable. Lumian's theories about the nature of the loop could account for such an anomaly. After all, Madame Pualis was a prime example.
However, the black-robed man's sudden appearance was entirely unexpected. It wasn't his presence that was startling; Lumian had always suspected another individual, apart from the owl and the occupant of the coffin, to be the mastermind behind Cordu's abnormalities.
What truly shocked him was the striking resemblance between the black-robed man and himself. It suggested the man could be another version of Lumian.
His theories about the loop's nature failed to explain this baffling revelation!
Something's not right! Lumian struggled to lean forward, but the ropes held him fast, causing him to crash onto the altar with a thud.
His nose, which had ceased bleeding, began to flow anew, and the red, swollen wounds grew more prominent.
Undeterred, Lumian pressed on. Unable to use his limbs, he relied on Dancer's incredible flexibility, slithering towards the black-robed man with great difficulty.
His mind raced with thoughts.
I have to find out who this black-robed man is and why he's here!
This must be a manifestation of the loop's essence. Unraveling this secret could provide hope of using the loop to escape the current predicament and ultimately resolve the anomalies plaguing Cordu!
Drip, drip. Blood from Lumian's face stained the ground a vibrant red. His body smeared the crimson hue in all directions as he writhed in his struggle. The scene was chaotic and reeked of blood.
He strained to reach the black-robed man, but couldn't utter a sound. His face, contorted by pain and anxiety, was a horrifying sight.
The black-robed man, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Lumian, glanced down and instructed the padre, Guillaume Bénet, "Begin the ritual."
"Alright," Guillaume Bénet told Pierre Berry at the edge of the altar. "Bring Lumian to the altar."
Pierre Berry strode over, gripped Lumian under his arm, and hoisted him up.
No! Lumian thrashed with all his might, like a fish freshly yanked from the water.
Pierre Berry nearly lost his grip due to Lumian's "slipperiness."
The gentleness in Pierre's eyes quickly vanished, replaced by a ferocious and brutal glint.
His strength surged as he forcefully restrained Lumian and flung him onto the altar.
Afterward, Pierre Berry glanced at Lumian and chuckled.
"You better hope you die during the ritual rather than live through it. You'll regret it, I promise."
Is this a response to my earlier Provocation? Just as this thought crossed Lumian's mind, he saw Aurore, clad in a simple white robe, approach his side.
She leaned against the altar adorned with lilacs and tulips, her gaze vacant as she stared at her brother.
The cathedral's villagers swarmed forward, forming a semi-circle around the altar.
The padre retrieved two grayish-white candles, positioning them at the corresponding locations of Aurore and Lumian.
Next, he placed a candle beneath his feet, creating a pattern on the altar with two candles above and one below.
After a few moments, the padre ignited the three candles in sequence, from top to bottom and left to right, using his spirituality.
A faint sweetness wafted into Lumian's nostrils, leaving him disoriented. The scene felt inexplicably familiar.
…
Ryan, Leah, and Valentine stealthily approached the side of the Eternal Blazing Sun Cathedral, clutching a brownish-yellow suitcase.
Hidden in the shadows, they peered through the stained glass to see the Eternal Blazing Sun's altar transformed. They spotted Lumian bound on the left and Aurore standing on the right. They saw the padre facing the siblings, a lit grayish-white candle beneath his feet, flanked by the enigmatic black-robed man and Pierre Berry.
Valentine's fists clenched as a golden light flickered in his eyes.
Leah cast a sidelong glance at him, concerned her companion might be consumed by rage.
Fortunately, Valentine was a seasoned Purifier who had completed numerous missions. He understood what needed to be done and what to avoid.
Ryan averted his gaze and lowered his voice. "We'll move closer to the altar, shatter the glass, and launch a surprise attack. Our goal is to grab Lumian and Aurore and be out of the village within a minute.
"If we don't achieve our objective in that time, abort the mission and flee to the river. Trigger the loop proactively."
"Alright," Valentine and Leah murmured in hushed tones, each nodding in agreement.
Ryan added, "Valentine, ready Sunlight. We can't hold back any longer. We have to deploy 2-217 now."
"No problem," Valentine responded as Leah retrieved a box of matches.
She manipulated the silver bell on her veil and boots, sprinting around Cordu's square at breakneck speed while tossing matches at various points.
This marked a predetermined escape route.
Magicians didn't perform unprepared.
Once Leah had completed her task, the trio of official investigators cautiously circled beneath the stained glass to the side of the altar.
Valentine peered inside and told Ryan, "The ritual is about to commence. We must act now."
Ryan, also observing the cathedral's interior, furrowed his brow and asked, "Did you notice anything off?"
Leah hastily replayed the scene she had just witnessed in her mind, replying with apprehension, "I can't hear anything from inside!"
They were a mere three meters from the closest villagers, yet they couldn't discern any sound emanating from within. The villagers were clearly engaged in animated conversation!
Ryan's eyes narrowed, and a suspicion instantly took shape in his mind.
...
He stood up and rammed into the stained-glass window before him, disregarding that the cultists inside the cathedral might discover his presence.
Clangs echoed as the delicate glass remained unbroken, but the villagers within the cathedral seemed oblivious to the chaos outside.
As Ryan summoned the Dawn Armor and Sword of Dawn, Leah sprinted in circles outside the window.
This time, not a single deliberately uncontrolled silver bell jingled.
From Leah's perspective, this implied there was no danger; yet, how could there be no threat emanating from the cathedral?
Thus, she concluded that the correct answer was: The situation was extremely dangerous!
It was so dangerous that the silver bell Sealed Artifacts were utterly disrupted or dared not react!
Bang!
The Sword of Dawn, forged from light, struck a pane of stained glass but failed to have any impact. It seemed as if the entire cathedral was shrouded by an invisible, terrifying force that barred outsiders from entry.
A brilliant pillar of light, encircled by flames, descended from the sky as Valentine spread his arms. However, it didn't appear inside the cathedral as he had anticipated. Instead, it landed outside the stained glass, causing ripples.
It appeared that the interior and exterior were entirely isolated.
...
Ryan made a quick decision and said to Valentine and Leah, "Let's try the Sealed Artifact. If it doesn't work, we'll leave the village to trigger the loop."
Ryan didn't suggest immediate retreat because he hoped to barge in and save Lumian and Aurore. He suspected that once the ritual truly began, the loop might be affected. In that case, they wouldn't be able to leave Cordu or restart everything there.
Wasting no time, Valentine summoned the illusory golden flames.
With two pops, Ryan opened the suitcase and retrieved the Tanago Scarecrow, its skin already half-covered.
He pressed the Scarecrow's front against the stained glass and untied the thick black cloth.
A pair of human-like eyes appeared on 2-217's face, devoid of emotion and embedded within the brownish-green straw.
The eyes swiveled and locked onto Pons Bénet, standing at the edge of the altar.
The villain froze, then bolted toward the window.
As he ran, his body vanished, leaving his clothes to flutter to the ground and cover his leather shoes.
A piece of skin-covered flesh emerged on the Tanago Scarecrow's neck, fusing with the stalk below.
"It works!" Ryan and the others exclaimed, elated.
This meant that breaking into the cathedral wasn't impossible, and the altar's protection was not impregnable!
…
"The horoscope is about to change!"
"It's finally happening!"
"…"
Amidst the villagers' uproar and the surrounding scent of gray amber, cloves, musk, and tulips, Lumian experienced an uncanny sense of déjà vu. Relying on Dancer's flexibility, he forced his upper body up despite being bound.
The next second, he saw the padre open his mouth and shout in ancient Hermes, "The mighty Circle of Inevitability!"
As soon as the words left his lips, darkness enveloped the cathedral's interior, and the villagers fell silent.
The orange flames on the three candles were reduced to the size of pepper granules, now tainted silver and black.
Lumian's mind buzzed as the familiar burning sensation ignited in his chest.
His vision blurred, and the vacant-eyed Aurore, the solemn-looking padre, and the hooded black-robed man appeared before him in layers beneath the dazzling gold dome.
A sharp pain stabbed at his head, as if something was being yanked from the depths of his memory. It felt eerily similar to the scene unfolding before him.
The sense of familiarity and déjà vu surged within Lumian's heart, dozens or even hundreds of times stronger than before.
Thump, thump!
He could hear his heart pounding.
-x-X-x-
Thump, thump!
Lumian felt his heartbeat pounding, as images were painstakingly dragged from the depths of his memories.
His head threatened to split open. He fought against it, unwilling to continue.
Outside the stained glass, Ryan observed the ritual beginning. He tossed the Tanago Scarecrow to Leah without hesitation, signaling her to use the Sealed Artifact against the padre. He hefted the Sword of Dawn.
Beneath the golden flames, Leah and Valentine moved to another stained glass window, a half-exposed cylindrical wall separating them from Ryan.
They did this to evade the damage from the Hurricane of Light without hindering their movements. With the cathedral's "defensive capability," they believed a barrier between them would suffice. After all, Ryan would do his best to control the attack's direction.
Leah embraced the Tanago Scarecrow from behind, pressing it against the stained glass depicting St. Sith's sermon. She aimed at the altar and Guillaume Bénet, the padre leading the ritual.
On the other side, Ryan gripped the handle with both hands, plunging the Sword of Dawn into the windowsill.
The two-handed broadsword, forged from pure light, shattered and transformed into a whirlwind of razor-sharp fragments and specks of light.
The Hurricane exploded and slammed into the stained glass before him.
With a cracking sound, the entire cathedral trembled. Hairline fractures spider-webbed across the glass surface.
But it held fast.
Seeing this, Ryan summoned the minuscule particles of Sunrise Gleam, forging a massive two-handed axe.
Unable to use Hurricane of Light for now, he switched weapons.
Leah and Valentine, shielded by the protruding wall, dodged the Hurricane of Light's remnants. At that moment, the Tanago Scarecrow's gaze locked onto the priest. Its eyes, set in the brownish-green straw, reflected the white-robed figure with golden threads.
Leah noticed a faint silver light tinged with black materialize around the altar where Guillaume Bénet stood.
With a snap, the Tanago Scarecrow's eyes burst open, weeping blood-red tears.
The padre glanced over before looking away.
As two sheep "willingly" entered the altar, he intoned the incantation with calm fanaticism.
"You are the eternal cycle, the predestined destiny, the cause, the effect, and the process!"
Suddenly, the two deity-representing candles on the altar elongated to the size of a human head.
A howling wind swept through the cathedral, turning the villagers to statues. But silver-black warts emerged from their exposed faces and hands.
The silver-black light enveloping the altar rapidly spread, engulfing the entire cathedral.
The mural-filled dome became transparent. Clouds dispersed, and the crimson moon darkened to the shade of blood.
The stars on the black velvet backdrop flickered into existence, one by one, glowing with the intensity of the sun.
In an instant, night became day. The villagers stirred and murmured dreamily.
"The horoscope has changed…"
"Fortune is here…"
With three thuds, Ryan, Leah, and Valentine, who hadn't heard but had witnessed the scene, crumpled to the ground. They writhed, wailed, and screamed in agony.
Ryan's skin turned grayish-blue, Leah's face appeared to teem with maggots and pulsing tendrils, and Valentine radiated a sun-like glow, from inside to out, from top to bottom.
They were on the brink of losing control.
The Tanago Scarecrow lay cast aside, trembling violently.
Lumian felt his chest burn as the terrifying voice, seemingly originating from an infinite distance and yet right beside him, echoed in his ears.
Invisible steel drills penetrated his skull, stirring his brain. Blood vessels bulged in pain, and silvery-black spots emerged beneath his skin.
An unseen force enveloped him, lifting him from the altar.
The ropes binding him and the cloth gagging him crumbled to dust and dispersed in the air.
Aurore, too, was hoisted by this invisible force, floating above the altar and facing Lumian.
His bloodshot eyes mirrored his sister's long blonde hair, vacant light-blue eyes, pristine and emotionless face, and the simple yet odd white robe she wore.
He recoiled, sensing a familiar déjà vu from the depths of his memories. The pain was as intense as the madness.
The surrounding scenes melded together in Lumian's mind:
The padre's solemn and fanatical expression;
The black-robed man advancing toward the altar;
Pierre Berry prostrate on the ground;
The transparent cathedral dome;
The crimson moon and constellations in the sky;
The villagers with stiff expressions, welcoming their fortune;
Aurore, her face contorted with pain…
Lumian's head spun as his body was torn apart by an invisible force, silver-black spots multiplying on his skin.
He was powerless to break free or resist effectively.
"Ah!"
Lumian screamed involuntarily as his chest was gradually pried open, casting a silvery-black light onto Aurore.
Aurore's eyes darted around, hearing the agonized cry.
Her empty gaze mirrored Lumian's swollen blood vessels, his twisted face with silver-black hues beneath the surface.
After a momentary pause, she instinctively reached out and pushed Lumian away from danger.
...
Grande Soeur… Lumian stared, dumbfounded, as Aurore shoved him out of the altar's reach.
Suddenly, the dreadful sound in his ears vanished, and the invisible restraints on his body disappeared. The burning sensation across his skin subsided.
Yet the pain in his head remained unchanged. Deep-rooted memories were forcibly dredged up.
It was as if someone had used a hook to slowly extract his brain from his skull.
Aurore's light-blue eyes tainted with silver-black, her blank stare, her lifeless face, and her resolute, forceful actions pushing him away flashed in Lumian's mind. It was nearly identical to what he'd witnessed moments ago, but the black-robed man was missing from the background.
This amplified déjà vu led Lumian to instinctively question if something similar had happened before. He screamed in pain once more.
Bam! He plummeted to the ground after leaving the altar.
Ignoring the excruciating pain in his head and his disorientation, Lumian sprang up, prepared to seize Aurore and flee the altar with his sister.
A figure obstructed his path. The black-robed man wearing his face struck him on the right cheek, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Lumian refused to give in. With desperate courage, he rose again and lunged at the black-robed man blocking his way.
Whack!
...
The black-robed man swung his fist, and Lumian instinctively evaded.
He stood stunned for a moment before a twisted smile crept across his face. He snarled, "Why are you so damn weak? As weak as me!"
Lumian dismissed thoughts of the padre and Pierre Berry as he lunged at the black-robed man.
The man sidestepped, raising his right foot to trip Lumian's calf. Lumian didn't evade. With the terrifying flexibility of a dancer, he forced a half-turn and extended his arm to grapple his foe.
Thud! He tumbled to the ground, taking the black-robed man down with him.
The man nimbly raised his right hand, gripping Lumian's throat and delivering a brutal knee to his groin.
Lumian didn't flinch. Bloodshot eyes locked on his opponent, he clawed at the man's eyes with his right hand.
"Ah!"
The black-robed man screamed as Lumian tore out his eyeballs, blood spurting forth. Lumian instinctively curled up, nearly passing out from the agony in his lower body.
Struggling to his feet, he shot the writhing man on the ground a sinister grin.
"Come on! Let's die together! You coward! Coward!"
He lunged once more, encircling the man's neck with his arms.
At that moment, Pierre Berry, at the edge of the altar, staggered to his feet. Brandishing his axe, he sprinted to Lumian's side.
Whack!
His axe descended, only to be halted by a faint gray mist that had materialized. It failed to harm Lumian.
Pierre Berry employed two different abilities, but couldn't penetrate the gray fog's defense.
Guillaume Bénet, the priest, didn't hesitate and began reciting a prayer.
"I implore you,
"I beseech your benediction.
"I plead with you to grant me…"
Before he could finish, the scene transformed.
The constellations in the sky shifted incrementally, deviating from their original positions.
Cordu trembled violently as every house and inch of soil surged toward the cathedral.
Silently, the villagers decomposed into organs. Eyeballs, mouths, noses, hearts, fingers, and flesh…
A scant few reassembled into different people. Some appeared normal, others malformed, some missing parts, and some with extra appendages.
The majority hurtled toward the altar and Aurore.
Cracks spread across Aurore's body, and she swiftly disintegrated into countless pieces of flesh.
Witnessing this, Lumian spiraled into despair.
Still, he refused to surrender. Seizing the black-robed man's head, he twisted it violently, snapping his neck under the man's horrified gaze.
Lumian rose and raced toward his sister.
But an invisible barrier surrounding Aurore obstructed his path.
Rumble!
With a muffled thud, the cathedral began to ascend. Trees, soil, and boulders from outside the village soared, accompanied by houses, furniture, and miscellaneous items.
The organs of most villagers merged with Aurore's flesh at the altar, contorting and writhing before morphing into a colossal being.
The giant stood four to five meters tall, boasting three heads and six arms. Its entire form was composed of flesh and organ fragments, its body riddled with cracks oozing yellow pus.
The central head of the giant, filled with pain and regret, strained to gaze at Lumian.
Transparent, blood-hued tears trickled from the corners of "his" eyes.
Witnessing this, Lumian's mind reeled as if cleaved by an axe.
His vision wavered as he "saw" the shattered cathedral, the steadily rising blood-red "peak," the thorny "city wall" formed by distorted houses, the encircling ruins around the "peak," and the various monsters forced to flee the area…
What… Lumian's head throbbed with pain again.
As he watched countless tiny beams of light shoot from the giant and surrounding monsters, landing on his chest, he realized that the scenes buried deep in his memories had been entirely unearthed. They were nearly identical to what he saw now.
This is… Lumian abruptly had a hunch, and his headache worsened.
Suddenly, everything before him turned eerily illusory, with pronounced cracks appearing like broken glass.
This is! Lumian finally recalled something.
Then, he saw the black-robed man transform into a pitch-black, repulsive liquid that soared before him and seeped into his left chest.
"Ah!"
Lumian screamed in agony as his surroundings crumbled.
He snapped his eyes open and found himself lying beneath the blood-red mountain peak. The encroaching darkness, signaling the onset of night, had nearly vanished.
Lumian instinctively sat up, leaning forward. He placed his hands on the ground and scanned his surroundings.
He saw a twisted, thorny "wall," a barren landscape devoid of vegetation, and the dream ruins beyond. He spotted Ryan, Leah, and Valentine lying at the edge of a room not far away.
They were sound asleep.
Lumian abruptly bowed his head, raised his hands, grasped his hair, and whispered in anguish, "Is reality a dream, and the dream reality? Is this the present or the past? Aurore. Is Aurore beyond saving?"
"Yes." A woman's voice echoed in the ruins.
Lumian looked up, bewildered, and faintly saw the enigmatic woman appear before him.
She approached, wearing the orange dress she'd donned at the beginning.
"That's why you were so desperate to obtain superpowers in your dream, regardless of the consequences. That's why you disregarded others' lives and even your own. You wanted to resolve the loop embodying the concept of a 'problem' as quickly as possible. That's why you couldn't control your instincts and uttered inappropriate words or performed inappropriate actions on certain occasions…"
Lumian gazed at the mysterious woman, dazed, realizing that the indescribable and inexplicable emotion in her eyes had resurfaced.
This time, he could finally decipher it.
It was pity.
-x-X-x-
Several days later, an investigation report on Cordu Village was submitted to Intis Intelligence and Homeland Security Committee's Bureau 8, the Machinery Hivemind of the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery, and the Eternal Blazing Sun Church's Inquisition.
Upon receipt, the brass immediately reviewed the report.
Background: Over the past year, numerous disappearances have occurred in the Feynapotter Kingdom's Grabaka Province, near the Dariège region, and in the Lenburg Republic's Upper Hel state. Several Beyonders without official permission have mysteriously vanished, and these incidents seem to be connected to shepherds traveling across the three regions. Among them, those from Cordu Village became our primary focus.
Consequently, after receiving an unusual distress letter, we prioritized the mobilization of elite personnel and dispatched them as a joint investigation team.
The investigators' complete written statements are as follows:
The anomaly in Cordu Village can be categorized into two levels: reality and dreamscape.
Reality:
Cordu was ultimately destroyed by a large-scale but unsuccessful evil god sacrificial ritual. Only a small number of villagers survived.
Most villagers were utilized as nutrients for the failed creation of an evil god. The remaining individuals were reassembled in peculiar ways and transformed into various monsters.
The evil god sacrificial ritual altered the landscape. The river dried up and changed course. The village square and cathedral were elevated nearly 40 meters by a small-scale orogeny, forming a blood-colored pillar.
The failed evil god creation was located atop the pillar. However, when we discovered it, it had already been destroyed, potentially by self-destruction or interference from other factions.
Cordu's houses also underwent reassembly. Some formed a twisted, thorny city wall around the blood-colored pillar, while others were arranged in circular patterns…
In these severely damaged buildings, we found only a few coins and the most common livre bleu. We did not find any written information or anything that could clearly identify Cordu. The reason remains unknown.
Only the house of Lumian Lee—the target—contained books, newspapers, magazines, and other items that clearly identified it.
Within the ruins of Cordu, there are two abnormal areas surrounding the blood-colored pillar. One can induce a deep slumber, leading to a dreamscape, while the other is teeming with life, filled with flowers and trees, and features a self-rocking crib.
Our assumption regarding the latter area is that it is closely related to Madame Pualis of Cordu. (For a detailed explanation, refer to the Dreamscape section.)
At the other edge of the blood-colored pillar, we unearthed four relatively well-preserved corpses. The location likely corresponds to the original cathedral cemetery.
The first corpse was a woman, no more than twenty years old, who had been strangled to death.
The second corpse was a young man, also no more than twenty years old, who had drowned.
The third corpse was surrounded by coffin fragments. Female, over 60 years old, and died of mechanical asphyxiation. Based on other evidence, we speculate that she was suffocated with a pillow.
The fourth corpse was male and had not decomposed. His tongue had been severed while he was alive, and there were visible ligature marks on his neck.
Relevant speculations about the aforementioned corpses can be found in the Dreamscape section.
…
Upon entering the ruins of Cordu, we were likely affected by the power emanating from Lumian Lee's body. Our memories of the date became disordered, and the thought of leaving ceased to occur to us.
One by one, we fell asleep. While in the dream state, our bodies maintained a weak level of activity, eliminating the need for food replenishment for several days. Had we remained in this state for another half a month, it is uncertain whether we would have awoken from hunger or perished within the dream.
The entire ruin is locked in a loop capable of reverting to its original state at any moment. The trigger point is most likely tied to Lumian Lee's self-awareness and the restrictions he imposes. The former refers to the inevitable restart if Lumian Lee's subconscious anticipates it, while the latter stems from his desire to prevent anyone from disrupting Cordu's current state and the development of the dream. Any relevant event would immediately trigger a restart.
…
We inquired with villagers from surrounding areas, but they reported no abnormalities concerning Cordu.
Through their responses and previously gathered information, we confirmed three points:
First, there was never a legend of a deceased Warlock in Cordu (this refers to a story told by Lumian Lee in the dreamscape: Once, a Warlock lived in Cordu. After his death, an owl perched on his bed head for a time before flying away. The Warlock's corpse grew heavy, requiring nine bulls to transport it);
Second, no elves suspected of being in the form of lizards have appeared in the Dariège area.
Third, Lent is traditional folklore and had no issues originally.
…
Dreamscape:
The dreamscape originated from Lumian Lee and is so realistic that we couldn't discern that we were dreaming.
We consulted psychologists and dream experts and synthesized their opinions to form a hypothesis about this dream.
It is an amalgamation of Lumian Lee's personal experiences, all the novels he has read, and his assumptions and conjectures based on previous events. The dream exhibits obvious coincidences and characteristics of wish fulfillment at certain critical junctures.
Within this dreamscape, not all the situations we encountered were real, nor were they entirely fabricated.
Disorganized facts, the minutiae of daily interactions, and the illusory scenes that left a profound impact on Lumian Lee were reassembled in a chaotic and symbolic manner, presenting themselves to us.
This is both a characteristic of the dreamscape and a manifestation of Lumian Lee's subconscious avoidance or fear of certain issues.
Moving forward, we will provide a detailed account of every aspect of our experience:
…
We ought to have realized that we were in a dream earlier on. The most evident clue was that we did not recall needing to change our clothes until Lumian Lee reminded us that our garments were severely damaged.
Though this is quite unusual, humans tend not to think critically within dreams.
It has been confirmed that we did not send telegrams. The corresponding responses may have originated from Lumian Lee's subconscious and the knowledge he possesses.
By combining the events in the dream with the situation in reality, we have arrived at the following conjectures:
Our consciousness and knowledge, to some extent, enriched the dream, and we may have inadvertently exposed some of our secrets to Lumian Lee.
There are at least two distinct evil god faiths in Cordu. One represents a power akin to Earth Mother's, embodied by Administrator Béost's wife, Madame Pualis. The other is the one followed by Guillaume Bénet, the former padre, and the majority of the villagers. The latter faith ultimately led to Cordu's destruction.
During the Lent celebration, the Spring Elf's beheading and send-off symbolized driving the force representing Madame Pualis out of Cordu. There may have been a violent conflict between the two factions. Simultaneously, the decapitation of Ava Lizier, the personification of the Spring Elf, symbolized that this girl had discovered something amiss in reality. When she attempted to escape or inform others, she was clandestinely strangled to death by Guillaume Bénet's group.
Reimund Greg was thrown into the river. The appearance of his Spirit Body beneath the cathedral symbolizes that, like Ava, he was deemed a snitch and subsequently drowned.
Jean Maury discovered that his wife, Sybil, had an affair with the former padre. In a fit of rage, he became mute. This symbolized that as a devout follower of the Eternal Blazing Sun, his tongue was cut off when he tried to inform others about the village's abnormalities. His subsequent disappearance implied that he had been murdered.
Naroka's death shares the same potent symbolism as Ava, Reimund, and Jean. First, she must have covertly followed Madame Pualis, intending to allow her deceased husband's spirit to return home through the aid of the soul messenger. Thus, her post-death behavior was to enter Paramita. Second, it is highly likely that she was killed by her youngest son, Arnault André, likely because she had discovered the issue with Guillaume Bénet's group and wanted to inform Madame Pualis.
Based on our search of the ruins, the Lent celebration, and Madame Pualis's claim that she could depart at a specific moment, it is implied that she, her husband Béost, butler Louis Lund, and lady's maid Cathy left Cordu before the ritual on the twelfth night. They remain alive, and their whereabouts are unknown.
This is reflected in the dream by the lady's refusal to assist at critical moments.
...
However, considering the circumstances in the peculiar area teeming with vitality, we suspect that Madame Pualis left something behind before her departure and indirectly participated in the ritual on the twelfth night.
The black-robed man in the Warlock's tomb likely symbolizes Lumian Lee's mutated persona due to his corruption. However, for some reason, Lumian Lee did not appear to be deeply corrupted, enabling him to easily triumph during the skirmish, given his increased courage…
The bizarre lizard-like creature found in the mouths of Aurore Lee, Michel Garrigue, and others might symbolize their corruption and mutation, eventually transforming them into an alternate version of themselves.
…
Questions:
1. How is Lumian Lee aware of the abilities of Guillaume Bénet, Pierre Berry, and others? If he had secretly observed them in reality, it would be understandable if he remained undetected once or twice. There must be an inherent reason why he could obtain so much information without facing consequences.
2. Why did the villagers and Aurore Lee behave indistinguishably from real people, making it challenging for us to recognize that we were in a dream until Lumian Lee believed that something abnormal should have occurred to them?
3. What does Paramita symbolize?
4. What do Madame Pualis's numerous children in the castle and the crib with an invisible object represent?
5. Why did Lumian Lee use lizard-like elves to portray the villagers' corruption?
6. What do Lumian Lee and Aurore Lee's attempts to escape Cordu and enter Paramita signify?
...
7. Why did the ritual on the twelfth night fail?
8. How can Lumian Lee enable us to enter his dream? He evidently lacks the ability to do so.
9. Why did he suddenly acquire normal Beyonder powers?
10. How did he survive and cause the ruins of Cordu to enter a loop?
11. Aurore Lee's abnormalities occurred at entirely different times during the two cycles. What does this indicate?
12. What does the legend of the deceased Warlock symbolize?
13. What does the Warlock's corpse in the coffin in the underground tomb represent?
14. What does the owl symbolize?
15. What does the change in the horoscope signify?
16. What is the origin of the matter?
…
Conclusions and Recommendations:
This is a quintessential disaster resulting from the worship of an evil god. Currently, six known survivors exist:
Lumian Lee, former padre Guillaume Bénet, Pualis de Roquefort, Béost, Louis Lund, and Cathy.
The latter five are adherents of evil gods. We must locate and eliminate them as soon as possible.
Directly killing Lumian Lee is not advised. Until his issues are understood and resolved, his death might trigger an even more severe anomaly. The optimal solution is to capture and securely contain him.
Reporters: Ryan Vitia of Machinery Hivemind; Major Leah Bellot of Bureau 8; and Purifier Valentine de Lacourt of the Inquisition.
-x-X-x-
Days earlier, beneath the crimson "peak," adjacent to the warped "city wall."
Lumian knelt on the ground, gazing up at the enigmatic woman as she approached.
Her words echoed in his ears, only to gradually grow muffled.
Lumian's hands pressed against the ground, clenching the soil as if attempting to crush it into liquid.
!!
As the mysterious woman halted about a meter away, he scrambled to his feet, anxiety gripping his voice, "Didn't you say there's still hope? Didn't you claim Aurore and the others could be saved if I broke out of the loop myself?"
His voice grew hoarser with each word.
The enigmatic woman remained silent, her eyes filled with pity as she gazed at him.
Lumian hesitated before asking, hope lacing his words, "There's still hope, right?
"That's not just a fleeting dream. During my discussion with Aurore, she spoke of things I had never heard of—like how the description of an honorific name can hint at two separate entities!"
His eyes locked onto the woman, fear and hope battling as he scrutinized her every move.
At last, she nodded.
"There is indeed hope."
Lumian's eyes brightened, waiting for her to elaborate.
In a gentle voice, the woman explained, "In truth, Aurore has already died, but mystically, she's not entirely gone.
"Do you recall the soft, faint sounds you hear from within your body each time you perform the Summoning Dance? Do you remember the light fragments from Aurore and the others that flew into your chest on the twelfth night ritual?"
"Are those their Spirit Bodies, their voices?" Lumian interrupted, eagerness filling his voice.
The woman responded, a mix of calm and pity, "They can only be considered soul fragments.
"At the end of the twelfth night, you became a conduit for the hidden entity to unleash its horrifying power. The surrounding believers, including the soul fragments of the sacrifice, were absorbed by you. Guillaume Bénet, who led the ritual, was the sole exception.
"Later, those soul fragments and the potent corruptive power were sealed in the left side of your chest by my lord.
"That's why, as you became increasingly 'awake' in your dreams and sensed the date and loop more clearly, Aurore and the other villagers seem more and more lifelike. They even displayed a degree of self-awareness and cognition.
"To truly awaken from the dream and restrain the looping power consuming the ruins, you had to rely on yourself. You had to find the courage to confront the pain, face the truth, and chase after the elusive hope.
"If I were to resolve it, there's only one option: to completely annihilate you and the ruins of Cordu. Otherwise, the corruption within you will seep out uncontrollably, and Aurore and the others will truly perish in the realm of mysticism."
As the mysterious woman mentioned the twelfth-night ritual, Lumian couldn't help but remember.
A sharp pain stabbed his head, and only a few images surfaced.
Aurore, with vacant eyes, shoved him away from the altar.
Beams of light burst from Aurore and the villagers, spiraling into the vortex on his chest.
Guillaume Bénet, the padre, revealed a shocked expression as he fled the altar.
Beyond that, Lumian couldn't recall anything else. Only the events within the dream were clear, as if some force prevented him from remembering the rest.
His face contorted, his body trembling.
"I-I can't remember much…"
The woman nodded.
"That's normal. Firstly, it's a subconscious self-protection to prevent an overload of painful memories and intense scenes from causing you to collapse and lose control. Secondly, there are things you haven't witnessed and don't know the truth about. I don't know either.
"Yes, I'll need you to do something in Trier eventually. There are one, no, two exceptional psychologists I know there. I can arrange an appointment for you and see who's available to treat you. They can help you remember more and reconstruct the events in Cordu as much as possible."
Lumian's emotions roiled as he listened, but all he could muster was a soft, "Thank you…"
Fists clenched, he asked anxiously, "Then what can I do to bring Aurore and the others back?"
The woman sighed, admitting, "I don't know either."
Seeing Lumian's eyes darken, she added, "But you have to believe that true miracles exist in this world.
"And the great existence I mentioned earlier is synonymous with Miracle."
Despair and hope swelled in Lumian's heart.
Though he knew the mysterious woman before him was likely offering comfort and hope, he couldn't help but say, "You said that once I unlocked the secret of the dream, you'd tell me the honorific name of that great existence."
Her expression grew solemn, her tone serious.
"I'll tell you now. Remember it well.
"His honorific name is: The Fool that doesn't belong to this era, the mysterious ruler above the gray fog; the King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck."
As she spoke, Lumian felt his consciousness slipping, as if he could see a thin gray fog and a looming castle above it.
A gaze weighed upon him.
Simultaneously, the entire village of Cordu shuddered as the thin fog engulfing the area receded rapidly.
By the time Lumian regained clarity, sunlight had already filtered through the sky, casting golden specks upon the crimson mountain peak and desolate earth.
Lumian recalled the three lines of the honorific name and his conversation with Aurore in his dream.
He winced, a bitter smile forming as he said, "I thought there'd be a description of the past, present, and future."
The enigmatic woman in the orange dress tersely acknowledged his remark.
"There should be another one in the future, but if I use a description other than the three lines to pray to Him now, I can't guarantee the response will be from Him.
"You should know that such a situation is very dangerous."
Silent for a few seconds, Lumian then asked, a glint of hope in his eyes, "If I work diligently for you, can I eventually summon that great being to resurrect Aurore?"
"That's one way," the woman said softly. "You can also explore other methods. I won't stop you. I'm merely reminding you that many resurrection techniques have grave flaws."
...
Lumian nodded, signaling his understanding.
He didn't dare to inquire, yet couldn't help but ask, "Is there a significant chance of resurrection?"
The enigmatic woman glanced at him and sighed.
"It's very, very slim, but I know you'll still pursue it."
Lumian pressed his lips together, remaining silent.
It wasn't that he didn't want to assure her he'd do everything in his power to find a way to bring Aurore back, but he feared that speaking would reveal the sorrow surging within his heart.
After a few seconds, he asked in a raspy voice, "What do you need me to do in Trier?"
"Join a covert organization and help me gather some intel," the woman replied simply. "I'll tell you how to contact them once you're in Trier."
She added, "Besides uncovering the truth from your memories, you can also look into the 'survivors' of this catastrophe."
"Survivors?" Lumian's eyes narrowed.
The woman nodded.
...
"Besides you, there are five others: Madame Pualis, Béost, Louis Lund, Cathy, who left Cordu before the twelfth night, and Guillaume Bénet, who was protected by the ritual as its host. They escaped before this place was completely destroyed."
"The padre is still alive?" Lumian's lips curled up.
The enigmatic lady locked eyes with him and said, "If my divination is accurate, they should be hiding somewhere in Trier."
"Very good." Lumian smiled, wiping the corners of his eyes.
The woman then looked at Ryan, Leah, and Valentine, who slept near the room's edge on the thorny city wall, and asked Lumian, "What do you plan to do with them?
"If they leave alive, you'll undoubtedly be hunted by Bureau 8, Machinery Hivemind, and the Inquisition.
"From now on, you can only hide. You'll never live openly under the sun. You'll be forever accompanied by darkness, filth, and danger."
Lumian glanced at Ryan and the others, chuckling hoarsely.
"Will killing them bring Aurore back?"
The woman shook her head.
"No."
Lumian scoffed, bowing his head with his eyes closed.
Soon, he looked up and asked, "What's the name of the organization I'm about to join? How should I contact you once I'm in Trier?"
The woman sighed faintly.
"I'll tell you when the time comes.
"I'll give you my messenger's summoning method and the corresponding medium later. Contact me through that."
Lumian fell quiet for a moment before posing another question. "Did I possess the power to trap Cordu in a loop?"
"Strictly speaking, you didn't. At least not before receiving the Circle Inhabitant boon," the woman explained casually. "This place is corrupted by that hidden being everywhere, and the power level sealed in your left chest is quite high. Therefore, when your emotions fluctuate and you're in a subconscious state, you can mobilize the corresponding specialness to reset this place." She paused, adding, "However, you've always been physically in a loop.
"The corruption sealed within your body allows you to reset your form at 6 a.m. every day and return to 6 a.m. on the twelfth night. Only changes brought about by Beyonder characteristics and boons are retained."
Is this the real reason why I recover every time I wake up from injuries in the ruins? No wonder I didn't starve to death… Lumian immediately understood.
He glanced at his body, a self-deprecating smile forming.
"It'll always be that day…"
That nightmarish day.
Without waiting for the woman's response, he looked up and asked, "How should I address you?"
She smiled, beginning to reply, "You can call me…"
Before she could finish, cards suddenly danced in the air.
Each card bore a unique pattern, fluttering towards Lumian.
Instinctively, Lumian extended his right hand, attempting to catch some of the cards.
At that moment, most of the cards vanished, leaving just one.
The card gently settled in Lumian's palm, face-up. It depicted a figure extending their scepter into the sky and pointing at the ground with their left hand.
Tarot card—Magician!
Lumian glanced up in shock, realizing the enigmatic woman had disappeared.
Should I call her Madam Magician? Lumian subconsciously flipped the tarot card in his hand, revealing rows of minute Intis script:
"The spirit that wanders about the unfounded, an upper world creature that is friendly to humans, a messenger that belongs solely to Magician."
Lumian studied the words for a moment before tucking the tarot card away.
He glanced at Ryan and the others, then turned around and staggered away from the area.
As he walked, Lumian couldn't help but look back at the blood-stained mountain peak and the twisted, thorny city wall.
The Cordu in his memory had already morphed into this. It bore no resemblance to what it once was, but Lumian still tried his best to observe and search, hoping to overlap the scene in his mind with reality.
He wanted to take another look at the giant atop the mountain, but he knew that it would cause him grave harm.
Unwittingly, Lumian slowly circled the blood-stained mountain peak and thorny city wall, his gaze constantly scanning the distorted and chaotic objects.
He knew what he was looking for, and he knew he would never find it.
Just like that, Lumian arrived at the spot where the wooden wall had blocked him.
Most of the area had collapsed, revealing the garden behind it.
The garden was lush and vibrant, a stark contrast to the blood-stained "peak," the warped "city wall," and the ruins on the other side.
In the center was a brown wooden crib, reminiscent of the one Lumian had seen in Madame Pualis's castle.
He subconsciously leaned over and realized that there was a small human-shaped indentation on the slightly aged white cotton swaddling cloth in the crib. It was as if a baby had once lain here, but its whereabouts were now unknown.
What does this mean? Just as this thought crossed Lumian's mind, he felt the sunlight shining down from the sky grow much brighter.
He instinctively looked up and saw golden flames completely engulfing the mountaintop.
The three-headed, six-armed giant loomed in the inferno, seemingly melting.
Lumian stared blankly for a few seconds before suddenly raising his hands to shield his face.
The "sunlight" was too intense.
…
In the semi-subterranean two-story building at the edge of the ruins.
Lumian trudged to his sister's bedroom with the 237 verl d'or and 46 coppet he had collected. He grabbed a brown suitcase filled with clothes and memorabilia and pushed open the door.
He was here to say goodbye.
As soon as he stepped in and saw the desk with the manuscripts, his head throbbed as an image surfaced.
Aurore's eyes darted around, no longer vacant. She looked at Lumian, who had been pushed away, and said with difficulty,
"My notebook…"
Grande Soeur's witchcraft notebook? Is there important information in it? Lumian pressed his forehead, walked to the desk, and opened the drawer below.
Familiar dark notebooks greeted his eyes.
He suddenly remembered that Aurore had taught him a great deal of mysticism knowledge before Cordu was destroyed.
…
In Dariège, at the steam locomotive station.
The ticket agent eyed Lumian and asked, "Where are your identification documents?"
"I forgot," replied Lumian, clad in a linen shirt, a dark jacket, and a round-rimmed black hat, as he held a brown suitcase.
He then turned and walked away from the window.
A short man in a half-top hat and black suit approached Lumian, whispering, "Do you want to take the courier carriage? It's headed for Bigorre."
"Does it require identification?" Lumian inquired.
The short man chuckled, responding, "No need. Our business is about to be crushed by the steam locomotive. Why would we need identification documents?
"So, are you taking it or not? This is the last remnant of romance from the classical era!"
Lumian gave a slight nod and asked, "How much?"
The short man's enthusiasm flared.
"20 verl d'or to Bigorre, takes about a day. There are five stops in between. Each stop allows for a rest, changing carriage drivers and horses. Two of the stops also provide free food."
Without further questions, Lumian followed the short man to a deserted street nearby.
A large carriage drawn by four horses was parked at the roadside.
Upon boarding, Lumian discovered the interior was rather spacious. Like the public carriage, it had two rows separated by an aisle, as well as space for larger luggage.
He found a seat by the window, placed his suitcase down, and pulled out a book with a dark red cover.
As the horses neighed outside, Lumian flipped through the book, illuminated by sunlight streaming through the window.
Beside him sat a man in his thirties with a well-groomed mustache, brown hair, blue eyes, and smart attire.
He glanced at the book in Lumian's hand, asking with interest, "Eternal Love? Aurore Lee's book? The one featuring the female lead named Kingsley and the male lead named Ciel?"
"Yes." Lumian nodded.
The mustached man became chatty.
"This book is Aurore Lee's earliest work. The writing was quite amateurish, particularly the dialogue between characters. It doesn't sound like something people would say in real life at all. It's so emotional, it's uncomfortable."
"Indeed." Lumian nodded again.
He bowed his head and flipped to the last few pages of the book, his gaze resting on the relevant passage.
"On her deathbed, Kingsley clutched Ciel's outstretched hand and gazed at his anguished expression. She forced a smile and said with difficulty, 'Stupid, live well.'"
(End of Part 1—Nightmare)