Chapter 1071 - 35 COI

Volume 3 :Everyone is a hunter, and everyone is prey.

"Deputy Director of Loen Kingdom's MI9 Spotted in the Crossfire of Market District Terror!"

"Fiery Debate at National Convention: Eternal Blazing Sun Church's Role in Hugues Artois Assassination!"

"Shocking Malpractice!"

"Negotiating the Limits: Two Churches in Talks Over Parliamentary Immunity Restrictions"

"No Oath, No Immunity: Debating the Rights of Unsworn Members"

"National Convention or Heretic Haven?"

"Hugues Artois Shielding Heretics Behind Market District Terrorism!"

The headlines from different newspapers stood out, capturing Jenna's attention under the blazing afternoon sun. She scanned the newspapers' headlines, witnessing the fervent debate taking place from different angles.

Jenna's gaze eventually settled on the wanted posters adorning the newsstand's side.

"Guillaume Bénet…"

"Pualis de Roquefort…"

"Lumian Lee…"

"Celia Bello…"

Jenna stared at her own poster, finding it peculiarly enchanting.

The portrait displayed bore no resemblance to her; her features were almost reversed, except for her undeniable beauty. Even her brother Julien would fail to recognize her as his sister, let alone any bounty hunters.

And so, Jenna continued her studies at the Théatre de l'Ancienne Cage à Pigeons by day, and entertained audiences with her voice at the Salle de Bal Brise by night, making ends meet. Her life remained unchanged, just as it had been.

If it weren't for the daily newspaper debates surrounding Hugues Artois's demise and the ensuing conflicts, Jenna would have doubted whether her act of assassinating him was merely a dream born out of emotional turmoil.

Based on Franca's findings and her own speculations, the official Beyonders seemed to appreciate Jenna's elimination of Hugues Artois. They believed she had made a significant contribution in eradicating a group of heretics. Had it not been for the pressure from the National Convention and the various restrictions in place, they might have even considered honoring Jenna with a medal.

Hence, they intentionally spread misleading information, crafting a wanted poster that deviated from reality. They employed an investigation as a pretext to aid Jenna's brother, Julien, in purging the malicious powers that had destabilized his emotions. They cured his latent psychological illness and provided him with a legitimate occupation as a fitter, all under the guise of humanitarianism and support for believers.

For Jenna, aside from the necessity to avoid her neighbors whenever she encountered Julien, her life remained relatively unhindered. She pursued her studies in theater acting and transformed into Showy Diva whenever the need arose.

Drawing from Franca's experience, if Jenna lingered in the market district for a few more days, the Purifiers of the Eternal Blazing Sun Church would likely approach her, sharing common knowledge and taboos to prevent any accidental disasters caused by her wild Beyonder powers. They might even attempt to recruit her as an informant.

If it were a Beyonder from the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery, they might choose to observe her covertly, trailing her steps and uncovering the source of her Beyonder characteristic. Depending on the circumstances, they would determine whether to apprehend her immediately and transform her into an informant or play the long game to capture more significant players. The Purifiers, on the other hand, would likely adopt a more transparent approach, considering Jenna's substantial assistance in their cause.

Jenna paid little mind to these matters. If the official Beyonders sought her capture, she would flee. If they wished to recruit her as an informant, she would comply. And if they disregarded her altogether, she would continue working to repay her debts and save for next year's tuition.

Retracting her gaze, Jenna, dressed in a grayish-white gown, stepped out of Théatre de l'Ancienne Cage à Pigeons. She turned towards Rue des Blouses Blanches, seeking some rest before adorning her face with smoky and decadent makeup, preparing to become the captivating Showy Diva at the Salle de Bal Brise.

Apartment 601, 3 Rue des Blouses Blanches.

Franca, clad in a blouse, light-colored breeches, and wooden slippers, warmly greeted Lumian.

"Théatre de l'Ancienne Cage à Pigeons proves more profitable than anticipated!"

At the heretic's estate charity auction for the post-disaster reconstruction, Gardner Martin had acquired Théatre de l'Ancienne Cage à Pigeons for 50,000 verl d'or and entrusted its management to Franca. Most of the profits were left in her hands as his mistress.

During the auction, he had also secured Auberge du Coq Doré for 2,000 verl d'or. Occasionally, he dispatched individuals to conduct peculiar investigations, as if seeking to uncover the truth behind the disaster.

Lumian undoubtedly took charge of the daily operations.

As the weather warmed, Lumian embraced the change by donning a light brown pair of trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a black waistcoat. He didn't bother with a coat.

Rather than inquire about the profits of Théatre de l'Ancienne Cage à Pigeons, Lumian surveyed the surroundings and posed a question.

"I wish to know more about the secret organization we've joined."

He had initially assumed Franca would inform him at an opportune moment. However, after waiting for several days, it seemed Franca had forgotten about the matter, leaving Lumian no choice but to seek answers himself.

Franca was taken aback, her surprise evident as she blurted out, "You don't know?"

You joined without any knowledge of the organization?

Had it not been for Madam Judgment's confirmation that Lumian was a member, Franca would have suspected he was bluffing and hadn't actually joined.

Lumian explained sincerely, "I was on probation before, and after passing the assessment, my Major Arcana card left it to you to reveal the details."

Franca accepted the explanation, recalling her own limited knowledge during her early days with the organization.

She settled back into the recliner, crossing her legs and straightening her posture.

"We are all members of the Tarot Club."

Tarot Club… Upon hearing the name, Lumian, already seated on the opposite sofa, showed no surprise. After all, members of this clandestine group adopted tarot cards as their code names. The core members were associated with the Major Arcana cards, while ordinary members bore the Minor Arcana cards.

Franca's face gradually lit up with pride.

"Our Tarot Club is the most exceptional secret organization in the entire world. One could even argue it is among the most powerful."

"That's because our leader is a supreme entity standing at the apex of all deities. In other secret organizations, the deities they serve merely watch over and provide divine insight. They do not actively participate. However, before Mr. Fool descended into a deep slumber, He regularly convened gatherings in His divine kingdom for the Major Arcana cardholders. What do we call it? A true Divine Council! Other Churches may have so-called Divine Councils, but at best, they are meetings held under the watchful gaze of a deity. It is not a gathering conducted in the presence of a deity with the deity's direct involvement."

Franca pressed a hand to her chest and offered a slight bow.

"Praise The Fool!"

Lumian had contemplated the Tarot Club's potential. After all, Madam Magician exuded an air of mystery and power. Yet, he never anticipated that the great existence she spoke of would be the leader of the Tarot Club.

This shattered his preconceived notions of deities.

After a moment of contemplation, he voiced his thoughts.

"Is Mr. Fool called 'The Fool' because He holds The Fool card from the Major Arcana?"

So He, too, is a member of the Tarot Club?

"That is partly the reason," Franca replied after a brief pause. "However, no one can confirm it. I suspect it is because 'The Fool' is one of the many honorific names bestowed upon Mr. Fool. Hence, when establishing the secret organization, He chose the name 'Tarot Club' and assigned different tarot cards to each member."

"But can we really address Him directly as 'Mr. Fool'?" Lumian questioned, finding it somewhat blasphemous or disrespectful to refer to a deity using the honorific 'Mr.' It seemed too ordinary and lacked the necessary sanctity.

Franca smiled and assured him, "There is no issue. It is said that Mr. Fool Himself quite enjoys this form of address."

Seeing that Lumian had no further inquiries, Franca continued.

"In many ritualistic magics, if you are unable to find a suitable recipient for your prayers, you can seek aid from Mr. Fool. Although the process may differ from your expectations, it will invariably lead to the desired outcome in a wondrous manner."

"The only caveat is that Mr. Fool is in a deep slumber, and we must not disturb Him too often. According to my Major Arcana card, we should not do so more than once a month unless absolutely necessary. Reciting His honorific name alone will not draw attention or assistance. In fact, it may result in failure and pose a certain risk. The power inadvertently released by a slumbering deity is capable of obliterating us countless times over. Thus, we must perform a ritual to ensure our safety."

Madam Magician had mentioned this before, but as per her explanation, Mr. Fool's slumber holds more significance than mere sleep… Franca seems unaware of the details? Lumian contemplated this as he asked thoughtfully, "What kind of deity is Mr. Fool?"

Franca cleared her throat and replied, "My lecture wouldn't do it justice. Haha, I don't remember all that much. I suggest you visit Mr. Fool's cathedral and listen to the bishop's sermons."

"Mr. Fool's cathedral?" Lumian exclaimed in surprise.

Was there a cathedral dedicated to Mr. Fool in Trier?

Weren't there only two Churches in Intis?

Franca explained, "Mr. Fool's Church primarily resides in the Rorsted Archipelago of the Sonia Sea and some locations in the Southern Continent. However, due to the beliefs of many merchants, sailors, bounty hunters, and treasure seekers at sea, we often encounter followers of Mr. Fool at Lavigny Docks in the square district."

"Later, for certain reasons, the two Churches agreed to construct a small cathedral there for Mr. Fool's Church, allowing passing sea merchants to offer their prayers. However, proselytizing or preaching outside the cathedral is strictly prohibited. Most Trieriens are unaware of its existence."

The square district lay on the north bank of the Srenzo River, west of Trier. Lavigny Docks bustled with various goods arriving from numerous seaside ports. Sea merchants frequently passed through, while sailors sought to experience the vibrancy and prosperity of Trier.

To the west of Lavigny Docks stood Trocadéro Town, renowned for its Trocadéro liquor.

Lumian nodded and said, "I shall find time to visit and listen."

With that settled, he asked curiously, "What is the connection between Mr. Fool's Church and our Tarot Club?"

-x-X-x-

Franca, sitting cross-legged in the recliner, had long pondered over this question. After careful consideration, a smile curved on her lips as she spoke,

"Mr. Fool's Church is akin to an independent subsidiary of our Tarot Club."

Observing Lumian's bewilderment, she went on to explain, "Each of our Tarot Club's Major Arcana Cards represents an influential figure in the world, be it in reality or mysticism. I suspect that the Pope of The Fool's Church is one such figure. As for the other Major Arcana Cards, they may lead different organizations. While these organizations might not believe in Mr. Fool, they can provide assistance to certain operations of the Tarot Club."

"To put it simply, the Tarot Club is the highest governing body directly overseen by Mr. Fool. Each holder of a Major Arcana card possesses a distinguished status and their own sphere of influence. And one such holder is The Fool's Church," Franca elaborated.

Lumian grasped Franca's meaning roughly and inquired, "How many Major Arcana cards do we have?"

Franca shook her head and replied, "I cannot provide an exact number as the identities of the Major Arcana card holders are kept confidential. The only card we interact with the most is the Major Arcana card to which we are subordinate. Well… mine is Madam Judgment."

"Mine is Madam Magician," Lumian added.

Franca chuckled, "It seems that these two cards often appear together. Yes, our Tarot Club has a habit of scattering the entire deck of tarot cards at the scene after completing a task. We also place the card that represents us in the most prominent position…"

"Isn't that wasteful?" Lumian interrupted Franca.

"What harm is there in using a deck of tarot cards? Don't you find such actions cool?" Franca muttered. "You can leave the card that represents you, but what use is a deck without one? You'll have to buy a new one next time. If you visit the factory and customize a large number of tarot cards with just one card, you'll become an easy target."

"I can draw it myself," Lumian proposed, already formulating a solution.

While he couldn't replicate the printed quality, he could capture the main characteristics of the Seven of Wands.

Franca fell silent for a moment, then said, "Wouldn't something you draw have a mystical connection? Wouldn't you have to expend energy to counter divination?"

"Sigh, we don't have to scatter them every time. We don't have to scatter them when working with non-Tarot Club members. We don't have to scatter them during stealth missions, such as the one we're on now. And we don't have to scatter them when we're under suspicion.

"Dammit! How did we get off track? What I wanted to convey is that due to the Tarot Club's customs and traditions, I've learned from various newspapers and mystical gatherings about the more active Major Arcana cards.

"Madam Justice has appeared multiple times on the Midseashire coast, in Trier, and Backlund. Mr. Hanged Man has made appearances at sea. We have Madam Hermit and Mr. Sun, as well as Mr. Moon and Mr. Star from the Southern Continent. As for any other Major Arcana card holders, I'm unaware."

Madam Justice, Mr. Hanged Man, Mr. Sun, Madam Hermit, Mr. Star, Mr. Moon… Lumian realized that the names possessed an air of mystery and sophistication, unlike the mundane-sounding Seven of Wands and Two of Cups.

After pondering for a while, he recognized a crucial point mentioned by Franca: Madam Justice had been seen in Midseashire, Trier, and Backlund.

Apart from Madam Judgment and Madam Magician, this was the only Major Arcana card with confirmed sightings in Trier.

Lumian distinctly recalled that Madam Susie had mentioned the possibility of people from the West Midseashire Coast being Beyonders of the Spectator pathway.

This implied that she had a good understanding of the West Midseashire Coast.

Considering that she and the other Psychiatrist were in Trier, their areas of activity overlapped by at least two-thirds with Madam Justice's.

Furthermore, when Madam Magician mentioned that the two Psychiatrists were equals and that his psychological problem involved matters at a higher level, Lumian suspected that one of them was Madam Justice.

Based on the fact that both Madam Magician and Madam Judgment preferred to address themselves with tarot cards and conceal their true names, it was more likely that the enigmatic lady sitting across from him was the holder of the Major Arcana card, Justice. Susie, on the other hand, seemed to be her subordinate Minor Arcana card.

With these thoughts in mind, Lumian glanced at Franca, who had adjusted her sitting position, and spoke, "Were you planning to find a genuine Psychiatrist for Jenna's brother from within our Tarot Club?"

Franca, confused by Lumian's sudden change of topic, was taken aback.

"No, I intended to approach members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society.

"I try my best not to contact my Major Arcana, Madam Judgment unless it's a particularly critical or serious matter. Although she always appears composed and willing to help, do you know? She's a true demigod and a prominent figure with godlike status. I can't burden her with trivial matters frequently. She says she doesn't mind, but who knows if she's truly honest. Each insignificant problem might decrease her favor towards me.

"When her favorability drops to a certain extent, a demigod has numerous ways to make your life unbearable. Besides, you won't even know why it's happening.

"I usually handle things on my own. If that fails, I turn to Gardner Martin or the members of the Research Society. And if that doesn't work, I consider reaching out to Madame Judgment."

Lumian shared the same sentiment, but he had the excuse of reporting the mission's situation and suppressing Termiboros's influence. He could write to Madam Magician from time to time to gather information.

In any case, he was already in the process of writing a letter. There was no harm in asking!

Observing that Franca's Psychiatrist wasn't the same as his own, Lumian didn't mention Susie. He nodded gently and replied, "Same here."

Franca glanced around and lowered her voice.

"However, don't hesitate to seek help when you need it. The resources and influence wielded by Major Arcana card holders exceed your imagination. What you find difficult can be resolved with a mere command or thought.

"Wasn't my mystical item, the Ring of Punishment, incredibly powerful? Madame Judgment granted it to me directly upon my request. She even allowed me to owe an equivalent exchange for a period of time.

"Uh… I see how you obtained the Pyromaniac potion formula and its main ingredient so quickly!"

You're not wrong… Lumian smiled, conveying to Franca that she had hit the mark.

He believed that if he could acquire Beyonder characteristics that complemented the Shadow Branch, he could genuinely seek the help of Madam Magician in finding a saint-level Artisan to craft the corresponding mystical item.

Compared to him, who was only a Sequence 7, Madam Magician, already a demigod, was more likely to be acquainted with a high-level Artisan!

Franca exhaled and continued the conversation.

"Every bearer of a Major Arcana card is a demigod, with a high probability of being a saint. At the very least, the more active ones don't seem to be at the level of Grounded Angels. However, Madam Judgment told me that the Tarot Club has more than one angel!"

At least eight saints, and more than one angel? They're even stronger than the Aurora Order… Truly befitting the most extraordinary secret organization… Lumian sighed, wondering if the Tarot Club's core members were exaggerating to instill a stronger sense of belonging among their subordinates.

With a yearning expression, Franca added, "My current dream is to progress step by step to Sequence 5, then advance to Sequence 4 of the Hunter pathway and become a demigod. That would grant me the right to obtain a Major Arcana card.

"Not only would it mean greater strength and a sense of security, but it would also allow me to participate in the Divine Council and ask Mr. Fool about things once he awakens."

According to Madam Magician, obtaining a Major Arcana card isn't dependent on advancing to Sequence 4 and becoming a demigod… Lumian dealt Franca a blow to prevent her from having overly high expectations.

However, Franca didn't mind at all. She smiled and said, "In any case, my question will have to wait until Mr. Fool wakes up. When the time comes, demigods will undoubtedly be more qualified than other members to obtain a Major Arcana card."

At this point, she looked at Lumian and continued, "Apart from us, there are four more Minor Arcana cards active in Trier. In total, there are 23 cards in the world, but there might be fewer. Many Beyonders find it fashionable to scatter tarot cards at the scene of an incident and intentionally imitate us. They might do it to misdirect the official Beyonders' investigation.

"In Trier, the most renowned card is the Knight of Swords. At the beginning of the year, he detonated a warehouse belonging to the Southern Continent's terrorist organization, the Rose School of Thought. The warehouse concealed a significant amount of explosives, and non-human remains were found at the scene…"

Lumian listened attentively to Franca's account, gaining a better understanding of the Tarot Club and the Major Arcana and Minor Arcana cards.

After a brief moment of contemplation, he asked, "Do Minor Arcana cards have gatherings in the world of mysticism?"

"No," Franca shook her head again. "Unless we meet in person, like we have, we can only communicate through our respective Major Arcana cards. Yes, regular gatherings do take place between Major Arcana cards in Mr. Fool's divine kingdom!

"However, Madame Judgment mentioned once that in urgent situations, with the assistance of our Major Arcana, we can communicate in a way that transcends reality, but such occurrences are rare."

Lumian had no further questions. After chatting for a while, he heard Jenna's footsteps ascending the stairs.

He stood up, preparing to leave.

"Where are you going?" Franca asked, puzzled.

At this hour, there was nothing for him to do in Salle de Bal Brise, so he might as well stay and play Fighting Evil, the game Emperor Roselle had "invented."

Lumian smiled, a mix of emotions in his expression.

"To the catacombs."

The ashes of the lunatic Flameng and the Ruhr couple were finally being laid to rest in the catacombs.

-x-X-x-

Outside the police headquarters in the bustling market district, Lumian, donning the enigmatic Prying Glasses, climbed aboard the carriage adorned with painted irises.

Two ordinary constables, clad in black uniforms, occupied the seats opposite, their feet resting beside three somber urns. The names of the departed flickered in fluorescent ink.

Taking his place across from them before the carriage slowly steered forward, Lumian caught the older constable's inquisitive gaze.

"What brings you here? What's your connection to these departed souls?"

He remembered that two of the deceased had neither kin nor friends, and the remaining one had distant relatives who trembled at the mere mention of the name Flameng. Not only were they unwilling to come and collect the ashes and relics, but they also reluctantly admitted that they were related by blood or marriage.

Lumian responded calmly.

"I'm their landlord, in a manner of speaking."

"Just the landlord?" The older constable appeared skeptical.

"Officer, a landlord is a person too. They can feel for others!" Lumian chuckled. "I've shared a drink or had a chat with them. Accompanying their remains into the catacombs isn't a big deal."

The younger constable feigned disinterest, gazing out the window, while the older constable exuded an air of familiarity.

"Youth suits you well. But in the motel or apartment business in the market district, you must guard against developing attachments to tenants. Otherwise, you'll either be deceived or heartbroken. After a few more such experiences, your enthusiasm for others will wane."

Lumian offered a perfunctory reply, and the constable broached another subject.

"We still have Flameng's belongings. His kin refuse to collect them. Would you like them? If not, we'll handle it ourselves."

"I'll take a look when I return from the catacombs," Lumian replied nonchalantly.

During the journey from the market district to the Place du Purgatoire in Quartier de l'Observatoire, the older constable chatted away, alternating between engaging Lumian and attempting to draw his colleague into conversation. His chatter seemed ceaseless.

Finally reaching their destination, Lumian disembarked from the carriage, cradling Ruhr's ashes in his arms. Despite his outgoing nature, Lumian felt a newfound relief, as if his ears had been granted respite.

The catacomb administrator, whom Lumian had encountered before, awaited their arrival.

In his mid-thirties, of average build, with curly brown hair, a thick beard, and slightly upturned eyes, he sported yellow pants, a white shirt, and a blue vest.

"Kendall, why is it you again?" the older constable greeted him warmly.

Kendall held an unlit carbide lamp and smiled.

"Robert, I heard you were coming, so I made sure to delay my other duties and be here for you."

As Kendall spoke, he scrutinized Lumian and emphasized, "You didn't forget to bring the white candles, did you?"

"That will be the last thing I forget!" Robert, clutching Flameng's urn, fumbled in his pocket and retrieved three white candles. He tossed one to his colleague and another to Lumian.

With everything in order, Kendall ignited the carbide lamp and turned around, leading them deeper into the darkness, down the stone staircase comprising 138 steps.

Along the way, they passed a heavy wooden door engraved with two imposing Sacred Emblems and traversed a hushed corridor where even the sound of their breaths seemed amplified.

Lumian was no stranger to such a foreboding atmosphere, but the young constable displayed signs of nervousness. He clutched Madame Michel's urn tightly, seeking solace.

After traversing a broad avenue, illuminated by gas street lamps, the quartet arrived at the catacombs' entrance.

The natural cavern, subsequently modified, stood silently in the dim yellow glow. Skulls, skeletal arms, sunflowers, and reliefs depicting steam elements adorned both sides. Beyond them, an impenetrable darkness loomed.

Etched on the lintel were two inscriptions in Intisian:

"Halt!

"The Death Empire lies ahead!"

Although Lumian had witnessed this sight before, he still felt a profound sense of reverence.

Unlike his previous curiosity and confusion, he now keenly grasped the gravity conveyed by these warnings and the surrounding environment.

Beneath Trier's surface lurked countless perils capable of obliterating the entire city and even Intis itself. These dangers included, but were not limited to, Trier, the Tree of Shadow, and invisible flames from the Fourth Epoch. The catacombs, situated here, were unlikely to be innocuous.

According to Osta Trul, a Secrets Suppliant, visitors who descended into the catacombs with lit white candles invoked the protection of a concealed entity, akin to a ritual.

Lumian couldn't help but suspect that opening such a place to the public served to suppress some subterranean peril, much like the new city erected upon Trier in the Fourth Epoch.

Kendall turned to Lumian and the others.

"It's time to light the candles. We must ensure they don't go out before we leave the catacombs.

"If we happen to get separated, don't panic. Look for a road sign. If you can't find one, follow the black line above you until you reach the exit."

With Kendall holding the carbide lamp, Lumian and the two others ignited their white candles, casting a soft yellowish glow.

As the four candles flickered gently, Kendall extinguished the carbide lamp and led the way through the boulder gate, entering the realm of the Death Empire.

Lumian followed closely behind, clutching the urn in one hand and the white candle in the other.

Suddenly, a chill swept over him, sending shivers down his spine.

But the cold didn't originate from his surroundings; it emanated from deep within his heart, causing his hair to stand on end.

Simultaneously, Lumian felt eyes fixed upon him, their gazes piercing his soul.

Using the flame of his candle, he looked to his right and saw pits carved into the stone wall, each one containing a ghastly skeletal corpse.

The hollow-eyed skulls stared at him lifelessly, devoid of emotion.

Lumian didn't avert his gaze as he carefully observed the corpses. He realized that the eerie sensation of being watched didn't stem from them, yet the feeling remained.

An instinctive urge to activate his Spirit Vision surged within him, but he had changed since arriving in Trier. He had encountered enough to know that many warnings were inscribed with blood and tears by those who came before him.

I shouldn't look at what I shouldn't… Since it poses no danger to me, there's no need to search for the source of this abnormality… Lumian silently muttered, turning his attention to the police officers beside him.

They seemed oblivious to any anomaly and continued following the tomb administrator, Kendall, as if everything was normal.

This made Lumian suspect that the experience was a result of the qualitative change in his spirituality after his advancement to Pyromaniac.

It's good that you can't feel it… Lumian couldn't help but sigh.

Under the weight of countless gazes, his skin erupted in goosebumps.

He cautiously looked up and saw a thick black line painted on the top of the tomb, with an arrow pointing toward the exit.

As he advanced, Lumian noticed that both sides of the path were lined with bones. Some were nestled in pits along the stone walls, others were piled by the roadside, and some were covered by tattered garments. Some lay bare, stripped of all burial items, their skulls coated in a layer of dark green mold. The air carried a diluted scent of decay.

The catacombs were divided into multiple chambers, each designated by name, ensuring visitors could locate specific remains.

Lumian and his companions followed Kendall through the narrow passage between the tomb chapel and the tomb memorial pillar. Ahead, they saw dozens of yellowish candles.

At times, the flames clustered together like fireflies in the night, while other times they formed a river of dim starlight.

Lumian glanced around casually and spotted a bride, her face veiled in white, adorned in a sanctified gown. Beside her stood a groom in a black tailcoat, a floral handkerchief adorning his chest pocket. Surrounding them were 30 to 40 youths, holding lit white candles and laughing merrily.

"What's happening?" Lumian couldn't hide his confusion.

Kendall scoffed and explained, "It's part of a wedding ceremony.

"Since last year, newlyweds have been bringing young guests into the catacombs, crossing paths with the deceased. It's become a popular tradition in Trier. Young folks are always daring, taking pride in their courage and delighting in scaring others. I've seen guests purposely pick up skeletal hands and pat the bride and groom on the shoulder, nearly causing them to faint in fear."

Oh, you Trierians… Lumian shook his head in amusement.

It didn't take long for the four of them to reach their destination, the Tomb of Lights.

In the center stood a black pedestal, atop which an obelisk painted white bore the emblem of the Sun. At its peak rested an ancient, extinguished oil lamp. The walls and floor were filled with bones, urns, and countless tear bottles.

Upon entering, Lumian realized a problem.

"Where are Flameng's relatives?"

He had wanted Flameng to rest alongside his children, wife, and parents.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Lumian suddenly understood why Flameng hadn't specified the location of his kin's remains.

He felt guilty and self-reproachful. Flameng desired to be with his family, yet he didn't dare approach them. He intended to stay in the same chamber and watch over them from a distance.

An indescribable sorrow enveloped Lumian as he stood silently, choosing to honor Flameng's final wish. He found an empty spot and gently placed the urn of the troubled soul.

Once Robert and the others had arranged the urns of the Ruhr couple, the four of them offered simultaneous prayer, either uttering "Praise the Sun" or "By Steam."

On their way back, they encountered the newlyweds and their young entourage.

As Lumian brushed past them, he noticed a young couple in the group. Seizing the moment when the tomb administrator's attention waned, they impulsively attempted to blow out the white candle in their hands, curious to see what would happen.

Whoosh!

They had indeed done it.

The two yellowish flames were extinguished.

In that instant, Lumian's mind turned adrift.

Quickly regaining his composure, he realized the young couple had vanished without a trace.

They're gone… Lumian's eyes widened as he tried to comprehend the situation.

A few seconds later, he accepted the undeniable truth.

The young couple had truly vanished!

Lumian then shifted his gaze back to the entourage.

Whether it was the newlyweds leading the way, the attending guests, or those at the rear, no one seemed to notice anyone missing. They continued to smile, joke, and move forward.

-x-X-x-

For a moment, Lumian thought he must be seeing things.

There was no sign of the couple, nor any attempt to put out the candle flames!

If Lumian hadn't witnessed it himself and been well aware of the dangers lurking in Underground Trier, he might have questioned whether the problem was with his own mind rather than searching for any trace of the couple's existence.

The people behind the couple hastened their steps and caught up to the person in front, closing the sudden gap in the procession.

They showed no surprise, fear, or confusion.

Everything appeared normal.

Lumian, already aware of the countless unseen gazes fixed upon him, felt the goosebumps on his skin intensify.

Subconsciously, he glanced at Kendall, the tomb administrator, who led the way with two police officers, to gauge his reaction to the recent events.

Clad in yellow trousers and a blue vest, Kendall held an extinguished carbide lamp in one hand and a quietly burning white candle in the other. He walked directly toward the exit of the catacombs, seemingly oblivious to the strange happenings surrounding the entourage.

Suddenly, Kendall turned around and met Lumian's gaze.

"Is something the matter?" Kendall's deep voice reverberated through the passageway, echoing in the nearby skull chambers.

Lumian maintained a composed demeanor and replied calmly, "I'm afraid I might get lost."

Kendall nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Then I'll slow down."

He continued toward the exit, deliberately reducing his pace. He staggered slightly, remaining silent, resembling a zombie from a horror novel.

Lumian held the flickering yellow candle and passed by the laughing wedding party participants, who occasionally made eye contact with the white skulls. Thoughts raced through his mind.

They truly didn't notice that someone was missing…

When they leave the catacombs, will the families of the man and woman discover their absence?

I've always wondered. The catacombs are open to the public, and university students often take risks and dance among the bones. Are there truly no issues?

Even visitors guided by the catacomb administrators disobey the warnings, let alone youngsters who venture in with a solitary white candle…

Initially, I believed there were safety measures or that accidents were infrequent enough not to deter those individuals. Now, it seems to be a different matter altogether…

Lumian suspected that not only would the body of the person "consumed" by the catacombs vanish, but even the memory of their existence would be erased from the minds of friends and relatives!

Why can I remember them? Could it be because Termiboros is sealed within me, connecting my fate to His to some extent?

Why do the government and the two Churches continue to open such a perilous place to the public? Do the catacombs require a constant flow of living people to keep something suppressed? Are those who disregard the warnings deemed necessary sacrifices? The more Lumian dwelled on it, the more his hair stood on end. He forced himself not to delve further into the analysis.

Without sufficient information, he couldn't explore the matter any deeper.

Regardless, there was nothing worth investigating within the catacombs. Visiting occasionally posed no threat as long as he adhered to the rules!

Once they entered the catacombs, the "talkative" police officer, Robert, fell silent, clearly uncomfortable in the environment.

With his silence, the conversation ceased. In an indescribable silence, the quartet retraced their steps to the natural entrance adorned with intricate reliefs and emerged back into the open.

As soon as Lumian crossed the threshold, he sensed the countless invisible gazes vanish.

The chill in his body dissipated, and his skin quickly returned to normal.

"Phew…" Robert exhaled deeply. "I always feel uneasy whenever I'm in the catacombs. Kendall, how can you go in more than ten times a day and still be so cheerful?"

Kendall chuckled and replied, "Do you think we remain unaffected? If we're not on night duty, those with families rush to find their wives. If not, they head to places like Rue de la Muraille and bask in the warmth of others."

"To be honest, after spending so much time here, I feel as if I'm slowly turning into a corpse."

As they conversed, Kendall lit the carbide lamp and extinguished the candle in his hand.

Returning to the surface, Robert glanced at the police headquarters carriage parked outside the entrance building and sheepishly smiled at his colleague and Lumian.

"That prolonged discomfort makes me need to use the loo. Wait for me. I'll go to the restroom first."

With that, he headed toward the two-story building, painted a muddy gray, which served as the ticket office for the catacombs.

Lumian gazed at the stone-engraved dome and positioned himself by a pillar at the edge, absentmindedly observing the pedestrians on Place du Purgatoire. The other police officer boarded the carriage and settled in to wait.

At that moment, Lumian felt a sudden chill.

It resembled the sensation he experienced upon entering the catacombs, though not as intense.

Instinctively, he warily turned around and saw Kendall, the tomb administrator, standing behind him, wearing an expressionless face.

"What's the matter?" Lumian calmly inquired.

Kendall, with his thick brown beard, spoke in a deep voice, "What were you looking at?"

Lumian's heart sank as he responded with a mixture of sincerity and pretense,

"Which aspect are you referring to?"

"When we passed by that group of people on our way back." Kendall's tone remained neutral.

Lumian acted as though a light bulb had switched on.

"I find the concept of a wedding among the dead quite intriguing. They seemed unafraid and were enjoying themselves."

Kendall scrutinized him for a couple of seconds before nodding.

"Don't imitate them."

With that, the tomb administrator carried the unlit carbide lamp and made his way toward the muddy gray building that housed them.

Before long, police officer Robert jogged back, and the carriage departed for Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman.

…

In the Evidence Room deep within the corridor on the first floor of the market district's police headquarters, Robert led Lumian to a wooden frame divided into multiple compartments and pointed to one of them.

"Here, Flameng's belongings."

Among the items, there was a dark suitcase, a fountain pen, paper, an ink bottle, and several large books crammed inside.

Lumian pulled out one of the books and quickly skimmed through its pages. He realized it was a mineralogy textbook focusing on Trier's underground rock formations. As an unschooled youth, the content proved challenging, with numerous unfamiliar words that were exclusive to mineralogy.

The other books were also mineralogy texts, some containing basic teaching materials while others comprised complex collections of papers.

Confirming this, Lumian retrieved the suitcase, placed it on the floor, and opened it.

Inside, along with two sets of clothes and daily essentials, the suitcase was filled with small grayish-white cloth bags. Each bag had a different name written on it with a fountain pen:

Flower, Sedge, Sheep…

These are the names Flameng mentioned, referring to the various rock strata beneath Trier… Could these bags contain corresponding mineral specimens? Lumian briefly recollected Flameng's words and formed a rough idea of what the cloth bags contained.

Despite his madness, Flameng hadn't forgotten to bring along his research subjects!

But all of this held little significance for Lumian, and he began contemplating letting the police headquarters handle them.

Just then, Termiboros's magnificent voice resonated in his ears.

"The cloth bag on the far right."

Oh, so a loser like you is finally speaking up again? Lumian's initial reaction was to mock Termiboros. However, he turned his gaze toward the cloth bag hinted at by the Inevitability angel, feeling a mix of surprise and suspicion.

The cloth bag rested on the far right side of the suitcase, sandwiched between Flameng's socks and his razor. Dark blue ink formed a combination of terms on its surface:

"Earth Blood."

Earth… Blood… Lumian, crouching beside the suitcase, silently muttered as he calmly picked up the cloth bag in front of the police officer, Robert, and opened it.

Inside the bag was a brown rock pockmarked with potholes. Each depression contained dark-red speckles, resembling blood seeping from the earth.

For some reason, just looking at it filled Lumian with a sense of frustration.

He refrained from touching the mineral specimen with his bare hands. Instead, he securely tied the cloth bag and placed it back in the suitcase.

He swiftly skimmed through the book detailing the materials found in Trier's underground rock formations, searching for answers.

With a clear target in mind, he quickly discovered the answer.

"Earth Blood rock stratum lies between 55 and 56 meters underground in Trier and has a thickness of approximately 0.76 meters… This is the deepest mineral we can gather. Beyond lies the forbidden Ancient Ruins Reserve…"

Beside this textbook description, Flameng's familiar handwriting jotted a few words:

"A small number of ores within the Earth Blood rock stratum are more peculiar than the others. They are suspected to contain volatile toxins that can induce irritability and lead to a mental illness known as mania.

"A researcher suddenly went berserk and slashed his colleague.

"To handle specific mineral specimens from the Earth Blood rock stratum, one must wear corresponding protective gear."

Earth Blood is a rock stratum near Fourth Epoch Trier? It's undeniably peculiar… No wonder Termiboros made me pay attention… As Lumian pondered, Robert urged, "Do you want them or not? Make a decision quickly!"

"Yes," Lumian responded, rising to his feet.

Even though he only desired the mineral specimen from the Earth Blood rock stratum and the mineralogy textbook detailing Trier's underground rocks, he signed and took possession of all of Flameng's belongings to avoid arousing suspicion.

Upon returning to Room 207 of Auberge du Coq Doré, Lumian neglected to wash off his enigmatic makeup. He whispered to Termiboros, "What makes this mineral specimen so special?"

Termiboros's voice echoed in Lumian's ears once more.

"Don't tell me you think it's normal for the Montsouris ghost to spare Flameng?"

-x-X-x-

Upon hearing Termiboros's question, Lumian felt a jolt of alarm.

He had never suspected that there might be something amiss with Flameng's prolonged stay at Auberge du Coq Doré, evading the clutches of the Montsouris ghost.

From Lumian's perspective, Flameng's immediate family and wife had already met their demise, and it was only a matter of time before he met a similar fate. The archives at Psychic's headquarters revealed instances where victims had been slain by the Montsouris ghost up to 11 months after encountering it. While Flameng's circumstances were rare, they were not unprecedented.

In an instant, Lumian's mind seized upon an intriguing detail.

The previous victims had all met their end within the same year of their encounter, whereas Flameng had crossed paths with the ghost last year. He had even sought the sanctuary of the clergy during the New Year festivities.

Although less than a year had passed since Flameng's encounter with the Montsouris ghost and his subsequent suicide, it was an unprecedented delay compared to the other cases.

"Could this Earth Blood ore be responsible for protecting Flameng, causing the Montsouris ghost to repeatedly postpone its actions and disrupt its usual patterns?" Lumian asked Termiboros, his voice hushed, seeking confirmation.

Termiboros was a true angel, devoid of power due to a perfect seal but possessing remarkable insight, knowledge, and level made Him capable of deciphering many matters.

Termiboros replied in a majestic voice, "It instills fear and repulsion in the Montsouris ghost, but it holds no power of its own. For you, this could be a crucial key."

"A key?" Lumian swiftly made numerous connections. "The key to a hidden chamber in Fourth Epoch Trier?"

Termiboros responded in an unusually deep voice, "You will inevitably enter Fourth Epoch Trier. It is where your destiny, both treacherous and serendipitous, awaits you.

"Rather than remaining passive, it would be wiser to explore proactively, leveraging the insights gained from each venture to better prepare yourself."

"Aren't you revealing your intentions too quickly?" Lumian couldn't help but chuckle. "Are you trying to hasten my demise? So that you may utilize the unique underground environment to block the signal of the collapsing seal and ensure your own safe escape?"

Given that the Tree of Shadow hadn't taken root in Fourth Epoch Trier, Lumian held no interest in venturing underground.

Without awaiting Termiboros's response, he left the room and made his way to the nearest washroom, eager to wash off the mystical makeup that concealed his true identity.

Having eliminated the latent threat, Lumian settled at a wooden table and began to write.

It was clear that both Flameng and the Earth Blood ore were extraordinary cases. He couldn't simply follow Termiboros's directives; consulting Madam Magician was imperative.

If he lacked knowledge and blindly believed the words of an angel tied to an evil deity, he would inevitably suffer dire consequences, even risking his life.

Termiboros's voice resonated once more.

"Can you truly trust this Magician, this Tarot Club, as they claim?

"They sealed me within your body instead of seeking my eradication. I fear they have ulterior motives, intending to exploit you for their nefarious purposes."

"They cast you into Trier, the very heart of the storm, yet they displayed no concern nor made any inquiries about your well-being. Don't you find this suspicious? It cannot be explained away as mere training."

Lumian beamed and said with a sigh, "Have you never deceived or manipulated others in the past, relying solely on your status and abilities to achieve your goals?

"Would you like me to purchase a copy of the Art of Persuasion and read it aloud daily for your instruction?

"Allow me to enlighten you. Such tricks wouldn't have ensnared me during my early teenage years. I am well aware of those I can depend on, my true friends, my adversaries, and those I must remain wary of."

Termiboros fell silent, seemingly contemplating whether to acquire the art of rhetoric.

Lumian swiftly penned a letter to Madam Magician, detailing the recent developments, and entrusted it, along with the Earth Blood ore, to the puppet messenger he had summoned.

In due time, a reply arrived from Madam Magician, who returned the mineral specimen.

"I'm relieved to see that you remained cautious and didn't fully trust Termiboros's words.

"However, there is some truth to what He said. The ore lacks inherent power, but it carries remnants of unknown auras and characteristics, mostly dissipated. It won't aid you directly, but it seems destined to bring about encounters in the future, which could be either beneficial or detrimental. Its current state is highly chaotic, making it difficult to provide an accurate interpretation.

"What Termiboros intentionally misled you about is that the fortuitous encounter He spoke of might not necessarily occur in Fourth Epoch Trier, but somewhere underground.

"If, in the future, you wish to explore the potential encounters and are prepared to take risks, carry it with you whenever you venture into Underground Trier. Alternatively, if you wish to avoid the risk, keep it safely stored in your room.

"The symbolic elements I mentioned previously have already begun to unfold. A friend of mine mentioned that he possesses great proficiency in deciphering such matters. Once he completes his current tasks, I will arrange for you to meet him…"

Suddenly, a blaze erupted from Lumian's hand, reducing the letter to ashes.

Contemplating the words of both Madam Magician and Termiboros, Lumian couldn't help but believe that the Earth Blood ore before him could trigger some kind of mutation within Underground Trier. It could lead to a fortuitous encounter or even claim his life.

For now, it's best not to take unnecessary risks, Lumian thought, aware of his current strengths.

As a Sequence 7 Pyromaniac, he had overcome any deficiencies in both close-quarters combat and long-range attacks, excelling in hand-to-hand combat and spellcasting. He had surpassed the limitations of an ordinary individual. However, Hunters leaned more towards conventional battles and lacked the peculiar abilities and methods to deal with the peculiarities of Underground Trier.

Lumian decided to wait until he had fully digested the Pyromaniac potion and obtained the Contractee boon. Then, he would consider carrying the Earth Blood ore based on the information he had gathered about Underground Trier.

It would be even better if he could transform the Shadow Branch into a mystical item before that.

Suppressing his thoughts, Lumian took the mineral specimen to Rue des Blouses Blanches and concealed it in his safehouse.

Before the afternoon sun waned, he delved into Aurore's grimoire, meticulously studying its contents alongside Franca's teachings and his own experiences with fire spells, searching for any potential issues.

After more than an hour, Lumian stumbled upon a section about summoning creatures from the spirit world and forging contracts.

His mind immediately turned to White Paper, Aurore's contracted creature.

The fragile spirit entity possessed the ability to withstand a specific ability of the contractor.

I wonder if the contract between Aurore and White Paper has been severed. According to the notebook, aside from the designated ritual, the contract can only be broken if one of the parties is completely deceased.

Regrettably, contracted creatures can only be summoned by the contractor and not by others like a messenger. Otherwise, I could utilize White Paper to determine if Aurore is truly deceased…

Hm… Is it possible that Aurore left behind any information with White Paper?

Lost in thought, Lumian's mind shifted to another matter that had previously escaped his notice.

Considering that Aurore occasionally gained clarity and assisted him in cutting up the livre bleu, reassembling letters, and seeking aid from the authorities, and since her initial response in the dream was to summon the messenger of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society's Vice President, Hela, to seek her counsel, why didn't she occasionally summon the messenger when she was lucid and inform Madam Hela about her predicament?

In Madam Hela's earliest response to me, she clearly seemed unaware of the situation.

What prevented Aurore from making such an attempt?

Or could it be that she did summon a messenger, and Hela is concealing it?

Lumian narrowed his eyes. Without the accompanying memories, he couldn't discern the source of the problem.

For now, he wasn't overly suspicious of Hela, believing there must be another explanation.

It was worth noting that Hela's messenger knew Lumian's exact location. If the woman was truly entangled in Cordu's affairs and played a dishonorable role, she would undoubtedly wish to eliminate the final "survivor" without leaving any loose ends. Yet, all this time, she not only refrained from making any substantial moves but also kindly provided knowledge and suggestions.

For a moment, Lumian considered writing down his questions and sending them to Hela to gauge her response. However, he restrained himself, fearing that it might expose the king's new clothes and lead to unfavorable outcomes.

He decided to first have a conversation with Franca and gather opinions from her teammates in the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society and the Tarot Club regarding Hela's trustworthiness.

If Franca believed Hela to be reliable and had shared information about the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society with her Major Arcana card, Lumian would request Madam Magician to keep a watchful eye before sending inquiries to Hela.

He forced himself to regain composure and resumed studying Aurore's grimoire. Only when evening arrived did he leave Rue des Blouses Blanches, making his way onto Avenue du Marché and entering his Salle de Bal Brise.

"Good evening, Boss!" Greetings echoed from all directions as Lumian nodded in acknowledgement and led Louis and Sarkota to the second floor.

Before he could settle in at the café, René, the dance hall manager, approached him.

The slender middle-aged man pressed a hand to his chest and bowed respectfully.

"Monsieur Ciel, Monsieur Martin requests your presence at Rue des Fontaines tomorrow at 10 a.m."

Boss wants to see me? Lumian was both surprised and delighted.

He was taken aback that Gardner Martin had sent for him despite the recent lack of incidents. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a sense of joy at the prospect of further interaction with Gardner Martin and the opportunity to gain his trust to join the Iron and Blood Cross Order.

-x-X-x-

"Alright." Lumian nodded at Manager René.

Lumian dabbed his mouth with a napkin and rose to his feet. He strolled towards one of the café's balconies, casting his eyes over the nocturnal scenery of Avenue du Marché.

The gas street lamps cast a soft, golden glow, illuminating the carriages and pedestrians that traversed the road.

At that moment, people streamed into Salle de Bal Brise one after another, joining the revelry within.

To be honest, Lumian preferred the cozy atmosphere of the basement bar at Auberge du Coq Doré to this place. It allowed him to unwind and find enjoyment.

From his perspective, the patrons of Salle de Bal Brise were excessively self-indulgent. They cared little for their families or their futures. All they sought was a night of revelry, drowning themselves in alcohol, beauty, dance, and uproar. In contrast, the regulars at the basement bar were mostly tenants of Auberge du Coq Doré. They would return around 9 or 10 p.m. and had to be in bed by 1 a.m. They drank, sang, boasted, and frolicked, making the most of those fleeting two to three hours to find their own slice of joy.

Only then did they gather the courage to face the arduous tasks of the following day and embrace the promise of a new dawn.

It was akin to kerosene lamps that required regular refueling to continue casting their light.

Lumian surveyed Avenue du Marché for a few minutes before his attention was abruptly drawn to a familiar figure.

There stood Charlie, adorned in a white shirt and blue waistcoat, embroiled in a street brawl, his formal coat casually slung over his arm.

Now we're talking… Lumian smiled, a touch of nostalgia and sentimentality washing over him as he used an expression that had recently gained popularity.

Pressing his right hand against the balcony, Lumian gracefully leaped from the second floor, landing nimbly at the edge of Avenue du Marché. With a few brisk strides, he reached the scene of Charlie's altercation.

He made no move to intervene or assist Charlie. Instead, he observed the fight with keen interest.

The other party engaged in this scuffle with Charlie was a slender young man in his mid-twenties, possessed of dark skin and sunken eyes. His lips were thick, and his slightly curly black hair marked him as a descendant of the Fog Sea Islander lineage. However, compared to his fellow islanders, he appeared somewhat more presentable.

"Cheat! You damn cheat!" Charlie spat out, his curses interwoven with their tussle.

The Islander, donning a blue shirt with a fountain pen tucked in his breast pocket, deftly dodged Charlie's onslaught while offering an explanation.

"I didn't want this to happen either. I, too, fell victim to deceit!"

"Dogsh*t!" Charlie's kick missed its mark.

The two engaged in their amateurish scuffle until their breath grew ragged. Simultaneously, they slowed their movements and eventually ceased their struggle.

Only then did Charlie notice Lumian standing beside him, observing the brawl with a smile.

"Ciel, it's Monette! That swindler! The one who conned me out of 10 verl d'or, nearly leaving me to starve!" Charlie's face lit up as he eagerly revealed the identity of his Islander adversary. "Praise the Sun for granting me this encounter!"

The Islander whom Charlie deemed deserving of a dire fate… Lumian chuckled to himself.

"You're partly to blame as well. Haven't you heard the saying? 'Never trust an Islander.'"

"I thought we were friends," Charlie muttered, his frustration evident.

How could you be so na?ve and easily swayed? You too possess a certain knack for mischief… People like you can be easily ensnared by scheming individuals, falling into their traps without gaining either the affection or the riches you desire. Ah, you've already fallen victim… Lumian chastised, shifting his gaze towards the Islander named Monette.

Monette responded with an obsequious smile.

"I genuinely intended to help Charlie find employment, but I, too, fell prey to a scam and lost all my money.

"I couldn't face Charlie, so I secretly departed from Auberge du Coq Doré."

As he spoke, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a stack of banknotes, counting three 5 verl d'or bills. He handed them over to Charlie.

"I returned to the market district to find you and return your money, along with interest."

Charlie's emotions eased considerably as he verified the authenticity of the three banknotes under the glow of the street lamps. He asked, still somewhat suspicious, "Are you someone who gets scammed easily?"

Ever since Charlie had encountered Monette until his departure, he had only witnessed him conning others. He had never seen him on the receiving end of such deals. True to his Islander identity.

Monette sheepishly smiled and replied, "Not only was I swindled once, but I fell for it a second time.

"The first instance, I encountered a group of people who claimed that Salle de Bal Unique in Quartier de l'Observatoire wanted to expand and were offering shares for sale. Each lot cost a mere 200 verl d'or.

"You all know how lucrative the dance hall is. I couldn't resist dipping into my savings, but the share subscription certificate I received turned out to be counterfeit!

"I confronted them, only to be swindled once more."

Salle de Bal Unique… Lumian's eyelids twitched involuntarily.

The bankrupt merchant, Fitz, residing in Room 401 of Auberge du Coq Doré, had previously been duped out of 100,000 verl d'or by the owner of Salle de Bal Unique, Timmons. Fitz had sought Lumian's aid in recovering the sum, but Lumian had investigated and consulted several sources. He found the dance hall's practices dubious, possessing a formidable network. They appeared to wield considerable power, causing Lumian to abandon the commission.

Now, he had encountered another victim of Salle de Bal Unique.

"You were swindled by them once before. How did you fall for it a second time?" Charlie couldn't fathom such foolishness.

Monette cleared his throat twice.

"They openly confessed to being a group of swindlers and refused to return the money. They even said that reporting them to the authorities would be futile. Impressed by my skills, they asked if I was willing to learn the art of deception from them, allowing me to recoup my losses.

"In the end, they merely taught me what I already knew. They only gave me something else."

"What was it?" Charlie was always a curious one.

In the blink of an eye, Monette retrieved a transparent monocle from his pocket.

He smoothly placed it into his right eye socket.

For some reason, Lumian sensed an inexplicable change in Monette as soon as he wore the monocle. It was as if he had transformed into a different character altogether.

The corners of Monette's mouth curled slightly as he positioned the monocle over his right eye. He glanced at Charlie first, then turned his gaze towards Lumian. His eyes shifted from Lumian's face to his chest and hands.

Lumian felt a subtle unease, but he detected no immediate danger.

Monette smiled and said, "Are you Ciel, the mastermind behind the Idiot Instrument?"

"Yes." Lumian did not deny it and remained silently cautious.

Monette adjusted the monocle on his right eye.

"Quite adept at pulling pranks, I must say.

"Would you like this monocle? It's of no use to me. I could exchange it for some cash. With it, you can disguise yourself as a member of Salle de Bal Unique and earn a good amount of money there."

Do I look like a fool to you? Lumian promptly rejected Monette's suggestion without hesitation.

"I have no interest in donning monocles."

He had always been skeptical of the peculiar rules of Salle de Bal Unique, keeping his guard up.

Disappointed, Monette redirected his gaze, removed the monocle, and turned to Charlie.

"I've given you the money and the interest. If you ever need anything in the future, come find me at Salle de Bal Unique."

Charlie scoffed dismissively.

He still harbored suspicions that Monette had intended to scam him in the past.

After the Islander left Avenue du Marché, Lumian turned to Charlie.

"Remember to keep your distance from that fellow. Otherwise, you might end up encountering the same situation with Susanna Mattise."

The latter part of his statement was a fabrication, primarily to instill fear in Charlie and ensure he took the advice seriously.

Charlie was instantly alarmed. Without questioning further, he hastily nodded and replied, "Alright, alright!"

…

At midnight, Lumian and Jenna, the latter wearing a sparkling red dress, exited Salle de Bal Brise and made their way towards Rue des Blouses Blanches.

Jenna did not inquire about the reason for their route. After a moment of silence, she spoke up.

"Have you ever felt like nothing matters? Lost and devoid of motivation?"

"Definitely," Lumian replied casually, his gaze fixed on the street ahead. "In such moments, you must rediscover the meaning of life and determine what truly matters to you."

Jenna fell silent once more. After a while, she asked, "Have you ever experienced something akin to an illusion shattering within you? A mysterious cosmos materializing, adorned with stars of varying sizes?"

"No," Lumian replied after a brief pause.

He had experienced the sensation of illusory objects abruptly disintegrating. It occurred every time the potion was completely digested. However, he knew nothing of the mysterious cosmos or the glimmering stars of different magnitudes.

Jenna remained silent, deep in thought about the implications of this phenomenon or contemplating other matters.

Soon enough, they arrived at Apartment 601, 3 Rue des Blouses Blanches.

Franca was already back and regarded them warily as they entered side by side.

Before she could inquire, Jenna brought up the topic of the shattered illusions and the appearance of the mysterious cosmos.

Franca was taken aback but spoke joyfully, "Your Assassin potion has been fully digested! Assassinating a parliament member in public and under heavy security certainly facilitated the digestion process."

Is this a sign of potion digestion? Lumian couldn't hide his surprise and perplexity.

Why do I experience only the first half and not the second?

Franca scrutinized him suspiciously.

"You've never experienced it before? How did you advance then?"

Not only is the seal on me restraining Termiboros, but it also restricts some of my mystical senses? That's right. The seal resides within me. It's impossible for it to have zero impact… Lumian formed a vague hypothesis and casually brushed it off.

"It wasn't as pronounced."

Franca, more concerned about her female companion, did not press the matter further and curiously asked Jenna, "So, have you managed to summarize the principles of acting?"

"Acting principles?" Jenna pondered for a moment. "After the assassination, I learned many principles. Yes, assassination is a matter of risking one's life. It is the ultimate form of punishment, a calamity for those criminals…"

Enthusiastically delving into the "acting method" and discussing acting principles with Jenna, Franca suddenly remembered Lumian's presence.

"What—what's the matter?" She glanced at her male companion, who had settled onto the sofa.

Lumian met her gaze and indicated that they needed to speak privately.

Jenna instantly understood, excused herself to change clothes, and retreated into the guest bedroom.

Lumian lowered his voice and addressed Franca, "What do you make of Hela? What kind of person do you think she is?"

-x-X-x-

"Madame Hela? How do you know her?" Franca's immediate reaction was one of surprise and astonishment.

She quickly remembered that Lumian's sister, Muggle, was also a member of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society. She hastily added, "Did your sister mention Madame Hela to you?"

Lumian nodded.

"Not only did she mention her, but she also gave me the incantation to summon Madame Hela's messenger."

"Did she suggest seeking help from Madame Hela when you faced trouble?" Franca speculated. "Are you planning to summon Madame Hela's messenger and ask if she can be trusted?"

"Sort of," Lumian affirmed. "I've already established a connection with Madame Hela and summoned her messenger, but today I realized that some of my sister's actions during the disaster in Cordu were unusual. It seems to be connected to Madame Hela. I don't know if I should question her directly."

Observing that Lumian hadn't provided further details about the disaster in Cordu or Aurore's abnormal behavior, Franca understood why and refrained from prying. She pondered and replied,

"Personally, I trust Madame Hela. Dammit, you've established a connection with her without even telling me!

"Well… She's one of the most advanced members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society on the paths of the divine. There are suspicions that she belongs to the Corpse Collector pathway."

"Not only does she willingly share her knowledge and experience with us, but she also offers assistance whenever possible. The items she trades are only slightly more expensive than their cost price."

"To many of us, including your sister and me, Madame Hela is like a dependable older sister. She has rescued us from helplessness, anxiety, and indecision. We trust her implicitly."

"Understood," Lumian sighed with relief. "I'll have an honest conversation with Madame Hela to uncover the true cause of the problem."

At this point, he changed the subject.

"Does your Major Arcana card know about the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society?"

"I haven't mentioned it to her directly. All I said was that I joined a secret organization that provides mutual assistance. However, she seems to be aware of the Research Society's situation," Franca lowered her voice unconsciously. "I suspect I'm not the only member of the Tarot Club in the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society."

With his lingering doubts cleared, Lumian turned around, smiling, and waved his hand.

"I'm going to summon Madame Hela's messenger."

"Hey, it's still early. Want to play Fighting Evil for a couple of hours before heading back?" Franca, who wasn't fond of going to bed early, tried to find some entertainment.

Lumian rejected her without hesitation.

When he returned to Room 207 of Auberge du Coq Doré, Lumian didn't rush to summon Hela's messenger. Instead, he unfolded a piece of paper and wrote to Madam Magician once again.

He briefly mentioned the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society and informed the demigod that Aurore was willing to seek help anonymously from the authorities when she was lucid. However, she hadn't summoned Hela's messenger for advice, which didn't align with her behavior in Lumian's dream. He didn't know if Aurore was under another restriction or if there was an issue with Hela.

Before long, Madam Magician replied with a simple line: "Based on the information we have, Hela is trustworthy."

Phew… Lumian relaxed and began writing a letter to Madame Hela.

In the letter, he candidly pointed out Aurore's abnormality and asked if she had missed receiving any letters.

Skilled in the process, Lumian made slight adjustments to the altar and changed the ingredients. He swiftly summoned a human skull that appeared to be made of pure silver.

As he gazed at the pale-white flames silently burning in the skull's eye sockets, Pyromaniac Lumian felt a greater sense of danger emanating from it than ever before.

It was no less intense than the feeling he got from Madam Magician's puppet messenger!

The pure silver skull clamped onto the letter and vanished into the dense darkness around it.

Lumian didn't rush to tidy up the altar. He patiently waited.

As time ticked by, a letter suddenly materialized on the wooden table in front of him, and he hadn't sensed its arrival until the end.

Of course, this was a significant improvement from before. Previously, he only noticed it after the pure silver skull had placed the letter.

Lumian unfolded the letter and swiftly scanned it under the glow of the two yellow candles on the altar.

"I haven't received any letters from Muggle since February of this year.

"I understand that a one-sided story lacks credibility, but if you carefully consider it, you should find some details that support this matter.

"I suspect that some force had influenced Muggle, causing her to refrain from seeking help from me for some reason. In fact, if she had written to me before the catastrophe completely unfolded, I could have arrived earlier than the official Beyonders. I might have been able to save Muggle and prevent the catastrophe.

"Often, letters and exchanges fail to inspire insights, making it difficult for us to engage in broader and more profound discussions. I will be in Trier in the coming days. If you are willing, we can arrange a time and place to meet and discuss your sister's encounter and the disaster in Cordu in detail. Perhaps, then, I can offer you useful suggestions."

Lumian pondered for a few seconds before recalling a detail from his dream.

Aurore had attempted to summon Hela's messenger but ultimately refrained from doing so. She was afraid of triggering a loop that would cause Cordu to restart frequently.

This likely meant that she had given up summoning Hela's messenger in reality or that she had tried but failed for some reason.

After realizing this, Lumian replied to Hela's suggestion, "No problem. We'll arrange a time and place when you arrive in Trier."

After sending the letter, concluding the ritual, and tidying up the altar, Lumian realized it was getting late. He quickly washed up, lay on the bed, and drifted off to sleep.

The following morning, Lumian awoke naturally to the resonating sound of the cathedral bell.

After visiting the washroom, he embarked on his usual morning jog along familiar streets like Rue Anarchie and Avenue du Marché, fully energizing his body.

During his routine, he discovered an empty space in the square outside église Saint-Robert and spent nearly an hour practicing combat techniques.

Returning to Auberge du Coq Doré, Lumian enjoyed a meatloaf breakfast while sipping a Whiskey Sour. On his way, he passed the Suhit steam locomotive station, where new vendors were already selling photos of street ma?tresse d'ateliers.

Lumian scanned the scene and caught sight of Baron Brignais.

The Savoie Mob leader, adorned with a diamond ring and smoking a mahogany pipe, appeared gentlemanly with his half top hat and the absence of any accompanying thugs.

Holding a seven- or eight-year-old child, he made his way from the steam locomotive station towards a carriage parked by the roadside.

The child donned a caramel coat with brass buttons, a black-and-white checkered shirt, and a linen coat. His black strapless leather shoes and white socks paired with a dark-red school bag that appeared somewhat heavy and solid.

With yellow hair, brown eyes, and a sturdy physique, the child had noticeable baby fat on his face and exuded an air of simplicity and honesty.

Baron Brignais's child? He usually resides in other provinces and visits Trier for summer vacations? No wonder they don't seem too familiar… Lumian muttered to himself, redirecting his gaze and continuing his stroll.

…

11 Rue des Fontaines, within Gardner Martin's grayish-white three-story villa.

Lumian arrived in the exclusive carriage of Salle de Bal Brise. He passed through the hall adorned with weapons and armor, arriving at a room filled with bookshelves.

Gardner Martin, displaying his amiable disposition, deep facial features, and brownish-red eyes, sat in an armchair at the back of the study. Standing before him were the short "Rat" Christo, with his gray-black hair, dark-blue eyes, and mustache, and the towering "Giant" Simon, measuring over 1.9 meters, his light-yellow hair closely cropped, clad in an unusually tight black suit.

Sensing Lumian's entrance into the study, "Giant" Simon and "Rat" Christo turned to regard their colleague.

"Giant" Simon's eyes displayed caution and defiance as he instinctively raised his head.

He believed that Ciel, who had defeated "Hammer" Ait, shouldn't be underestimated. However, he also believed that he himself was unquestionably stronger than that fool and might not lose to Ciel.

"Rat" Christo showed no evident emotions, but the right pocket of his dark brown shirt suddenly stirred, as if something alive resided within.

Christo slipped his right hand into his pocket, his expression abruptly changing.

His gaze upon Lumian grew intense with fear, and he couldn't help but smile obsequiously.

Wh… Lumian felt a tad uneasy.

After pondering for a moment, he suspected that "Rat" Christo had used an item in his pocket to "see" that Lumian had advanced to Sequence 7 and become a Pyromaniac.

In contrast, "Giant" Simon clearly lacked such intuition, failing to notice the subtle shifts in his colleague.

"Good morning, Boss," Lumian energetically greeted Gardner Martin.

A few days ago, he had informed the boss of the Savoie Mob that he had consumed the potion and advanced to Pyromaniac.

Gardner Martin nodded slightly, shifting his gaze from Lumian's face to "Rat" Christo and "Giant" Simon.

After nearly ten seconds, he spoke in a low voice, "I have a mission for all of you. At precisely noon, retrieve something from Underground Trier and bring it to Rue des Fontaines."

Mission? Lumian's eyebrows twitched, sensing a potential trap.

As a new Beyonder to the Savoie Mob, trust between him and Gardner Martin was still lacking. Why would he be assigned such a crucial and confidential task?

With these thoughts racing through his mind, Lumian had two conjectures: either he was mere cannon fodder or this was a test.

-x-X-x-

With this in mind, Lumian's gaze automatically drifted over "Rat" Christo and "Giant" Simon, taking them in.

He sensed that the chances of them becoming expendable pawns were slim. Potion-consuming Beyonders, unlike the Blessed relying on divine favors from evil gods, were a rarity. They couldn't be simply stockpiled at will. Firstly, the ingredients required were specific, and secondly, ample time was needed. At the Mid-Sequence, luck and mastery of the acting method played a role.

If he were to use them as mere pawns in this mission, the likelihood of reclaiming the Beyonder characteristics would be greatly diminished. It constituted a substantial portion of Gardner Martin's control over the underground world in the market district.

As a member of the secretive organization, the Iron and Blood Cross Order, Gardner Martin could indeed bear such a loss, but he wouldn't make such a colossal sacrifice for something insignificant.

And if the mission was of sufficient importance, sending only one Sequence 7 and two Sequence 8 Beyonders was clearly inadequate. Shouldn't Gardner Martin be concerned about failure?

With this realization, Lumian swiftly revised his conjecture.

Either this was a preliminary test, a low-risk mission designed to assess him, regardless of whether "Rat" Christo and "Giant" Simon were aware of it, or it was indeed a crucial and perilous operation. While using them as pawns, there would be powerhouses present as a safety net. This was also a test.

With this in mind, Lumian's initial reaction was to gaze at Gardner Martin and accept the mission, projecting an image of an ambitious young man striving to climb the ranks.

If it was the first possibility, this was his best chance to prove himself. If it was the second possibility, Lumian still had Mr. K's finger quietly nestled in his pocket as a trump card. When the time came, if he needed to divulge his affiliation with the Aurora Order to ensure his survival, he could abandon the Iron and Blood Cross Order's mission.

As long as he remained alive, he could await another opportunity!

After the catastrophe caused by the Tree of Shadow, Lumian visited Psychic's headquarters and met Mr. K before Gardner Martin could conduct an investigation.

He concealed his experience with the Tree of Shadow, merely mentioning that something had occurred in the market district, trapping them in a peculiar wilderness. Then the brownish-green tree descended, and Susanna Mattise appeared, draining everyone's energy. To combat the Fallen Tree Spirit, he used the finger to fashion a robust defensive flesh robe, but he didn't receive additional assistance.

Later, with the aid of the tree's further descent, Susanna Mattise's weakened state, and the involvement of the other two present Beyonders, he barely overcame the enemy and vanquished her using his Pyromaniac abilities and the Fallen Mercury from Cordu.

He spoke the truth, albeit blurring the sequence of events, time, and location, as well as omitting a few details. The logic remained intact. Mr. K harbored no suspicions after hearing the account; instead, he sighed and cautioned Lumian not to overly rely on the finger since there were multiple ways to sever the mystical connection between him and it.

Satisfied with Lumian's advancement to Pyromaniac with Gardner Martin's assistance, Mr. K plucked another finger for him.

This led Lumian to believe that, as long as he didn't encounter extraordinary environments like Paramita or the Tree of Shadow and wasn't entangled in the perilous affair of confronting a godlike entity head-on, with Mr. K's finger, even if he couldn't completely reverse the situation, he still had a high chance of escape.

Just as Lumian was about to express his stance to the boss, he suddenly sensed that he shouldn't push his acting too far.

That was what Jenna would occasionally say.

According to Franca, Boss is at least a Sequence 6 Conspirer. I can't underestimate his intelligence and discernment…

My background is undeniably evident. I'm young and hail from the countryside. I was once entangled in a Beyonder catastrophe and lacked knowledge. I wanted to change my fate, but I've spent a considerable time in the market district, openly and covertly accomplishing much. Even with what the Boss only knows, it should be enough for him to perceive that I'm not an ignorant country bumpkin who acts rashly and mercilessly.

Based on today's incident, the impression the boss has of me should be someone capable of detecting mission abnormalities and potential dangers. Simply agreeing without reason or observation would only raise suspicions of ulterior motives or reliance on something.

That would be troublesome…

A whirlwind of thoughts raced through Lumian's mind. He immediately shifted his gaze to "Giant" Simon and "Rat" Christo, eagerly awaiting their reactions and attitudes toward the mission.

It remained unclear whether "Rat" Christo was recalling the incident involving the "mirror person" or his brother's demise due to it. His expression grew nasty, tainted with fear and apprehension.

Doubt and wariness flickered across "Giant" Simon's face, yet he didn't voice any objections.

After a few seconds, they nearly spoke simultaneously.

"Yes, Boss!"

Observing this, Lumian deliberately hesitated before continuing, "Yes, Boss!"

With keen eyes, Gardner Martin observed Lumian, Christo, and Simon, assessing their expressions and demeanors.

After their unanimous agreement, the boss of the Savoie Mob grinned with satisfaction and said, "I shall now disclose the mission details."

He reached into a drawer and retrieved a scroll made of faux goatskin, laying it out on the desk before them.

Approaching, Lumian and his companions beheld a map revealing a section of Underground Trier!

The map measured a meter in length and 50 centimeters in width. The upper level depicted the Underground Trier, formed by the municipal department through the excavation of various tunnels and reinforcement of the quarry cave. It corresponded to the streets and squares above ground.

The map focused solely on the underground areas of Quartier du Marché, Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative, Quartier du Jardin Botanique, and Quartier de l'Observatoire. However, it was intricately detailed, as if copied from the original by infiltrating the municipal department.

Lumian could clearly discern extensions on both sides, although the drawing did not continue.

In the middle of the map lay quarry caves, ancient catacombs, and underground river tributaries, scattered in a haphazard manner and connected to the upper level through visible or concealed tunnels.

This portion contained numerous gaps and omissions. Beside these areas were inscriptions such as "to be investigated," "to be explored," and "to be searched."

The lower levels of the map encompassed collapsed mines and more missing information, as if veiled in a shroud of fog. Even the Iron and Blood Cross Order, a secret organization, lacked comprehensive knowledge.

Numerous passageways extended downward from this level, but the map did not indicate their connections.

Fourth Epoch Trier? The place referred to as the Ancient Ruins Reserve by the authorities?

It's evident that this map is a copy of a more comprehensive one…

A complete version includes Fourth Epoch Trier?

The Iron and Blood Cross Order possesses extensive knowledge of the underground… Lumian speculated as he committed the incomplete map to memory.

After his three subordinates had taken a cursory glance at the map, Gardner Martin pointed to a location and said, "This is your destination."

It marked a collapsed mine, yet there remained some open space.

Situated at the lowest level of the map, it was near Fourth Epoch Trier.

Above it, corresponding to Avenue Sèlbù, Rue des Mauvais Enfants, and Place de la Forêt, lay the intersection between Quartier de l'Observatoire and Quartier du Jardin Botanique.

"It's called the Albert Mines," Gardner Martin introduced. "To reach it, you must traverse two privately-bored tunnels. It remains unknown to the authorities and most people who travel underground."

As he spoke, Gardner Martin traced the tunnel with his finger and instructed Lumian, Christo, and Simon on the correct entrance.

Finally, he sighed with a tinge of emotion and added, "Six years ago, Albert Goncourt, the leader of the rebellion and the mastermind behind the uprising, relied on this mine, which he discovered and named, to elude the army, police, and official Beyonders who were searching the underground. He survived."

Six years ago… Rebellion… Uprising… Lumian instantly recalled what he had witnessed and heard.

During the war with the Loen Kingdom, prices in Trier skyrocketed, leaving people in despair due to the exorbitant cost of food. This triggered a massive protest that swept through the city, resulting in various conflicts.

From Gardner Martin's words, it was evident that the protest wasn't purely spontaneous. Someone had planned and guided it. Was the Iron and Blood Cross Order also involved? Lumian continued to gaze at the map, lost in thought.

Concluding his explanation, Gardner Martin said, "Your task is to reach the Albert Mines before noon and await the arrival of a trader who will hand you a box.

"You need not give him anything, nor do you need to communicate with him verbally.

"On your return journey, you must not open that box, as doing so would expose you to immeasurable danger.

"As long as you strictly follow my instructions, the mission poses minimal risk. While you may encounter peculiar phenomena concealed underground or face Beyonder monsters, good teamwork will resolve those challenges."

After providing them with additional guidance, Lumian, Christo, and Simon each took a carbide lamp and departed from 11 Rue des Fontaines, making their way to the nearest entrance to Underground Trier.

Casting a final glance at the now-out-of-sight grayish-white villa, Lumian considered the impression Gardner Martin had of him.

With a smile, he casually inquired of "Rat" Christo and "Giant" Simon, "Have you undertaken similar missions before?"

"Rat" Christo fell silent for a few seconds before answering, "Thrice."

"Once," "Giant" Simon replied in a slightly buzzing voice.

Lumian chuckled.

"Well, the fact that you're still alive suggests that such missions aren't too perilous."

"Rat" Christo remained silent, as though he had fallen into a grim recollection. "Giant" Simon reassured himself, echoing Lumian's words.

"You're right. Perhaps this is a test from the boss. Those who pass may have an opportunity to advance further."

Lumian smiled.

"And what about those who fail? Do they perish on the spot?"