3 COI

Ryan shook his head.

"The letter was just two simple sentences. It seemed like a man in deep trouble was seeking our help."

"Did he not mention what kind of trouble he was in?" Lumian breathed a sigh of relief.

There was no way a letter from Aurore or her pen pals could be that short.

!!

"Nothing," Ryan replied with a soft sigh.

Lumian couldn't help but mock them in his heart. It's just a letter asking for help, and you're here? Aren't you afraid this is just a prank? Even the people from the Inquisition aren't as enthusiastic as you. Isn't this too nice, too kind, and too missionful?

Normally, he would have voiced these thoughts aloud, but he needed to get information from them, so he held his tongue and forced himself to be patient.

Despite his reservations, Lumian knew that Ryan wouldn't reveal the entire situation to him. They must have other considerations or reasons for coming to Cordu and searching for the person who wrote the vague letter.

"Uh…" Lumian stroked his chin and suggested tentatively, "Why don't you show me the letter? Perhaps I can identify the writer from their handwriting."

Valentine, with his powdered hair, gave Lumian a look that said: "Do you think we're fools?"

Leah chuckled.

"Do you know how to appraise handwriting?"

"Barely," Lumian admitted sincerely.

He then added inwardly, Being able to appraise Aurore's and my own handwriting is also considered a form of appraisal.

"It's useless," Ryan interjected, shaking his head. "Every word in the letter came from a livre bleu, and the entire sentence was comprised of cut slips."

Lumian couldn't help but wonder why the writer was being so cautious. Why hide their identity in such a way when they were asking for help? Were they afraid of interception and retaliation, or was there something wrong with them that they didn't want to be exposed? Lumian tried to analyze the writer's mentality.

Lumian put on a look of realization and said, "So you've been chatting with people in the village to see if anyone else has experienced similar damage to their livre bleu?

"But the person who wrote the letter could have purchased a new livre bleu without anyone knowing, or even thrown it away after using it."

"That's just one of the leads we're following," Ryan explained calmly.

Lumian didn't treat himself as an outsider at all and asked, "Are there any other leads?"

"Well, if someone is asking for help, then something must be happening, and there will always be some traces left behind," Ryan responded after some thought.

"That makes sense," Lumian said, looking troubled for Ryan and the others, as if he could empathize with their situation.

He promised solemnly, "My cabbages, I'll keep an eye out for you. Hopefully, we'll find some clues."

"Thank you," Ryan replied politely.

Leah had regained her composure and asked Lumian, "Since we're friends, I have a question for you."

"Go ahead." Lumian smiled.

"Why did the villagers in the tavern laugh when you called us 'cabbage'?" Leah was rather intrigued.

Although it was embarrassing, 'cabbage' was a common local slang term, and it shouldn't have been a cause for laughter.

Lumian explained sincerely, "In slang, 'cabbage' means darling or beloved. It's mainly used between intimate friends or between an elder and a junior. 'My bunny' and 'my chicks' are similar."

He emphasized the word 'intimate' as he spoke.

Then, with an innocent expression, he added, "I just wanted us to be intimate friends."

Lumian's innocent expression suggested that he had no idea what 'intimate' meant.

More like you want to be our senior… Leah finally understood why the villagers were laughing.

While Lumian's explanation may not have been entirely truthful, it was logically convincing.

Ryan nodded in agreement.

"Is there anything else?"

"Nope," Lumian replied, not wanting to appear too eager and arouse suspicion about him and Aurore.

His sister couldn't undergo an investigation!

After watching Leah and the others leave with the sound of the tinkling bells, Lumian sat at the entrance of Ol' Tavern and waited for the lady with the mysterious background to wake up.

After a while, Lumian's friend, Reimund Greg, approached him.

"Lumian, have you decided which legend to investigate next?" Reimund asked.

In the past two days, Reimund had been even more proactive than Lumian in this matter. After all, he didn't have any strange dreams or other ways of obtaining treasure.

"Not yet." The owl had already come knocking on his door. He couldn't risk investigating the legend without confirming the situation first.

"I'll think about it after the Lent festival," Lumian explained, trying to sound casual.

"Okay, that makes sense," Reimund agreed. "I don't have to be a Greenwatcher for the time being then. I'll head out after Lent. Even if there are grazers in the meantime, it won't cause much damage."

"Do you mean you don't have to leave the village for the next few days?" Lumian asked Reimund.

Reimund nodded in confirmation, and Lumian smiled.

"What a coincidence. I can't leave the village for the next few days either."

Reimund was confused. "Why not?" he asked.

Lumian lowered his voice and spoke with a serious expression.

"This morning, I met the owl from the Warlock legend. It said that if it weren't for the cathedral and the gaze of God in the village, it would have taken my soul and thrown it into the abyss…"

Reimund was shocked and frightened, and his entire body trembled.

"Is that for real? I told you not to provoke such an evil creature…"

Reimund suddenly saw a smile appear on Lumian's face.

...

"…" Only then did Reimund remember his good friend's nature.

"You're pulling a prank on me, it's a lie, isn't it?" he asked, feeling both angry and anxious.

He was angry at himself for falling for Lumian's deception yet again. He knew what kind of person Lumian was and had been fooled by him many times before.

"You believe such a ridiculous thing?" Lumian chuckled.

Quietly, Lumian added to himself that he had made up the story to prevent Reimund from going straight to the cathedral to repent when he couldn't withstand the pressure.

Reimund relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief. "Phew…"

Lumian offered some advice to Reimund.

"Although I made up that story just now, it's true that pursuing the truth of a legend can be dangerous. Try not to leave the village or the cathedral's protection if you can."

Silently, Lumian added to himself, And that's the truth. Although most of the story was fabricated, half of it was true. I wouldn't have reminded you and shared Aurore's advice in a different way if I didn't need your help with many things in the future. Whether someone lives or dies has nothing to do with me…

Reimund recalled the feeling of fear and nodded in understanding.

"Alright!"

...

He changed the subject and asked, "Who are you going to vote for to be the Spring Elf?"

The Spring Elf was the symbol of spring and the start of many celebrations during Lent. In the Dariège area, the whole village usually voted for an unwed, beautiful girl to play the role.

"Ava," Lumian replied nonchalantly. "Hasn't she always wanted to be the Spring Elf?"

"I'll choose her too," Reimund said, secretly relieved.

Yesterday, Ava had hinted to him that she wanted him to vote for her, so he felt the need to help her canvas for votes.

…

Outside a house not far from Ol' Tavern.

Ryan, Leah, and Valentine weren't in a hurry to find someone to "chat."

Valentine raised his hand to cover his mouth and nose. "Is it really okay to say so much to that guy just now?" he asked.

The air around them was filled with the faint smell of poultry feces.

Leah fiddled with a silver bell above her head. "I don't know if there's a problem. All I can confirm is that my divination results tell me he's of help."

Ryan explained his intention. "If we can't turn the situation around, leaking some information and instilling fear in the relevant people could be effective. Next, we'll observe him more closely and see what he'll do or who he'll find."

…

After Reimund left, Lumian entered Ol' Tavern and saw the lady who had given him the tarot card in her usual spot.

She was wearing a white blouse and a pair of baggy light-colored pants, and beside her hand was a round straw hat adorned with a few yellow flowers.

She really has a lot of clothes in her suitcase. She changes them every day, unlike Leah and the others who look so shabby, Lumian thought to himself as he moved closer and sat opposite her.

During this process, he casually glanced at her breakfast, which consisted of a plump mince pie with a thinned sauce, a few darioles, cubed seasonal fruit, and a light-colored transparent drink with some impurities.

This isn't something Ol' Tavern can provide… Lumian pointed at the drink on the table and asked the lady, as though they were close friends, "What is this? It doesn't look like wine."

"It's called 'Venus Sacred Oil,'" the lady replied casually. "It's made from sugar and cinnamon water soaked in vanilla and mixed with poppies. It was invented by a bar in Trier."

The word "Venus" came from Emperor Roselle. He mentioned in a story that she was a woman comparable to a Goddess of Beauty.

Lumian was intrigued. "Where did you get it? Did you concoct it yourself?" he asked, suspecting that the nearest city, Dariège, couldn't provide something similar.

The lady smiled.

"As a traveler, it's my professional instinct to obtain suitable things at the right time."

Lumian was honest. "I don't understand."

He then said, "I've finished the previous monster. This time, I've encountered two even more dangerous ones…

He went on to describe the monster with three faces and the one with a shotgun on its back.

"I feel that they all have powers that surpass ordinary humans. They're not something I can deal with. Is there any way to deal with them?"

The lady took a bite of the dariole and rolled her eyes. She smiled and said, "I'm not sure about the three-faced monster, but you are more than capable of dealing with the one with the shotgun, as long as you use what's special about yourself."

Lumian was both surprised and confused. "A special trait… What's so special about me?"

I don't even know myself!

The lady smiled at him and said, "That's your dream. As the owner of the dream, you naturally enjoy special treatment. It's just that you haven't realized it yet."

-x-X-x-

Lumian was on edge, his mind racing with excitement and fear. "What is it exactly?"

The woman took a leisurely sip of Venus Sacred Oil before replying in a calm, unhurried tone.

"You have to ask yourself that."

Having said that, she lowered her head slightly and focused on enjoying her breakfast, giving the impression that she had no intention of continuing the conversation.

Why do you keep parts of the matter untold and only answer at the next opportunity? Isn't this a waste of everyone's time? He couldn't help but feel inferior to her ability to infuriate others.

Taking a deep breath, he forced a smile and bade farewell.

Lumian obediently spent the rest of the day at home.

This wasn't out of fear of the owl to the point of not daring to step out during the day, nor was it because he had nothing to do, but to avoid arousing suspicion.

Lumian was determined to get to the bottom of the help-seeking letter that Leah and her companions had in their possession. He needed to find out what was written and who wrote it. The key to his investigation was to flip through every livre bleu in the village and find the one with words cut out. As a villager, Lumian was best suited for this task, but he was hesitant to proceed after talking to the three foreigners. It could attract someone's attention and cause unnecessary trouble.

This was a matter of life and death, survival or doom, and Lumian knew that even with Aurore's protection, he couldn't guarantee that the other party wouldn't take any risky actions against him.

In the past two years, he had become better at figuring out the threshold required for pranks.

This was due to his rich experience.

He planned on "visiting" every family in a few days, using the excuse of pursuing the legends related to Lent.

After dinner, when it was dark, Aurore returned to her bedroom to finally write a manuscript that was long overdue.

Lumian entered the study planning to find some books related to dreams to read, hoping to gain some special inspiration for his dream.

As they only had one battery-powered table lamp at home, which was being used by Aurore, he had to light up the kerosene lamp that had a pungent smell and was not great for illumination purposes.

Carrying the kerosene lamp that emitted a dim yellow glow, Lumian quickly swiped his other hand across the backs of the books. Occasionally, he would choose a book and clamp it under his armpit.

After a while, he returned to the table with three selected books.

Just as he placed the books in his hand, Lumian saw the livre bleu at home.

It was quietly placed in a corner of the desk as usual, and the gray-blue cover seemed a little dusty.

Upon seeing this livre bleu, Lumian instantly thought of the book he had obtained in the dream ruins and the book that had been cut and meshed into a plea for help.

He reached out and picked up the livre bleu in front of him, planning to flip through the content to see which words were suitable for cutting and piecing into useful sentences.

After flipping through a few pages, Lumian's gaze froze.

There was an obvious hole in the notes attached to the current calendar page.

A word had been cut out!

"No way…" Lumian whispered, extremely shocked.

He quickly flipped through the livre bleu in his hand and found more than ten words cut out.

"No way…" Lumian whispered again, his reaction almost the same as before.

The livre bleu that Ryan, Leah, Valentine, and the others were searching for turned out to be the one at home!

Not only had they not expected it, but Lumian had never even fathomed this possibility!

It didn't even cross his mind!

Amidst the indescribably complicated emotions, Lumian frowned.

Could it be Aurore who requested help?

Why did she seek help from the officials? Why didn't she tell me?

Based on Leah and the others' behavior, their habitual choice to discuss matters with the padre as soon as they arrived, and other details, Lumian made a preliminary judgment that they were officials. They could be from the government, Dariège's Eternal Blazing Sun Church, or the God of Steam and Machinery Church.

Lumian hesitated, his expression constantly changing.

Finally, he made up his mind. He took the livre bleu and walked out of the study to Aurore's bedroom.

He planned on asking her directly and chose to believe in Aurore.

Knock! Knock! Knock! Lumian bent his finger and knocked on the door.

"Come on in." Aurore's voice sounded.

Lumian turned the handle and pushed open the door to enter. Under the bright light of the table lamp, Aurore, who was wearing a two-piece cotton pajama set, had bound her golden hair with a headband and was engrossed in writing a story.

"Did you cut this?" Lumian asked, interrupting his sister before she could speak.

"Huh?" Aurore turned around in confusion, her eyes blank and distant, as if she was still deep in thought.

Lumian handed over the livre bleu, which had been flipped to the corresponding page, and stared into Aurore's eyes.

"You didn't cut this?"

Aurore gazed at it carefully for a few seconds before looking up in amusement.

"Would I be so bored and childish? I'm steady, mature, and broadminded, unlike you."

Aurore's reaction was natural, and she didn't seem surprised or flustered that her secret had been exposed. Lumian didn't hide his confusion and asked, "But who would have cut out words from the livre bleu?"

"Wasn't it you?" Aurore sized up her brother. "After reading my novel, you planned on mimicking what you read and cut out words from books and newspapers to create a random letter to play a huge prank on the village. But before that, you wanted to see if you could fool me? Are you testing my deductive abilities?"

This really doesn't seem like Aurore's doing… Lumian's gaze was fixed on Aurore's face, not letting go of even the slightest change in her expression, but his sister's performance was flawless.

"It wasn't me." Lumian frowned. "Who could have done it?"

Aurore smiled. "Go on and play your little game of deduction. I have a manuscript to finish. If I have time tomorrow, I'll help you figure out the truth."

Using extraordinary means? Lumian tersely acknowledged her words and stopped disturbing his sister's creation.

He took the livre bleu and returned to his unlit room, sitting on the chair behind the desk.

...

"Who could it be?" Under the illumination of the crimson moon, Lumian muttered, trying to make deductions.

We are a family of two. Aurore is a Warlock with extraordinary abilities. She won't let others ransack our home…

If it's really not her, and in her words, 'when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.'

So, in the case of having only two choices, I'm actually the one who did this?

For a moment, Lumian found it absurd and funny.

So I'm the 'criminal'?

Why don't I know that?

Lumian couldn't help but turn his body and look at the full-body mirror attached to the wardrobe.

Under the crimson moonlight, his mirror reflection was wearing a linen shirt and brown pants. His handsome features didn't have a smile on them, and his expression was abnormally heavy.

He was very sure that he had never cut out the content from the livre bleu.

To eliminate the possibility, he recalled his experiences in the past month.

...

Although many details were already a blur, he was still very certain about what he had done.

Bathing in the crimson moon's light that seeped in through the windows, Lumian muttered to himself, "Could it be that I did it when I was unconscious? While having that dream, I can sleepwalk in reality? No, that's impossible. Aurore said that she would watch me. If I really sleepwalked and cut the livre bleu, she would have pointed it out just now. Moreover, the letter must have been sent during the day. I'm very awake during those times."

Lumian eliminated himself and thought of other possibilities.

Someone else who came here, perhaps?

Although their family had few guests usually, it did not mean that they did not have any.

Firstly, poorer neighbors would come to borrow the stove or oven to smoke meat or make bread.

Secondly, Lumian's friends would come to his house from time to time to find some simple novels to read or listen to his stories.

Lastly, Nazélie, Madame Pualis, and a few other ladies visited Aurore from time to time to have a chat with her. Among them, Madame Pualis came the most. She even lent Aurore a pony so that Aurore could ride freely in the mountains. They were quite close.

After all, in a village like Cordu, only an author like Aurore was worthy of Madame Pualis' friendship.

Madame Pualis appeared very amiable on the surface, often basking in the sun with the other women and chatting with them, and even catching lice with them. She had a good reputation in the village.

Although Madame Pualis and Aurore could be considered friends, Lumian did not like her at all. Madame Pualis would often introduce one of her relatives to Aurore and persuade her to get married and have children as soon as possible.

It would be fine if Madame Pualis' relatives were nice, but every time Lumian asked around in Dariège, he found that the other party either had bad character or was not very capable. They were about to fall into poverty, and none of them made the cut.

The first time might have been a coincidence, but with it happening every time, Lumian bore a hatred for Madame Pualis.

It's definitely impossible for those who come here to smoke meat or bake bread. There's always someone watching them. They won't be allowed to go up to the second floor… Reimund, Ava, and the others are also unlikely suspects. I'll accompany them the entire time. Madame Pualis, Nazélie, and the other ladies have a certain chance. Every time they come, Aurore will keep them in the study to read while she prepares some snacks…

If Madame Pualis is really a Witch, then it's understandable that she needs to hide her identity from the authorities. Also, she is very careful to use other people's livre bleu to avoid being traced back to her…

Did she discover something when she was having an affair with the padre? Did she have to protect herself in this way?

The more he thought about it, the more excited he became. He felt like he was about to lock onto a suspect.

He stood up, paced a few steps, and suddenly walked downstairs.

He didn't want to question Madame Pualis, nor did he plan to pry into her actions now. Instead, he planned to find Reimund or Guillaume-junior and use their livre bleu as a comparison to determine which words had been cut out and what sentence could be formed.

This way, Lumian could recreate the exact content of the request for help.

He rushed down the stairs, through the kitchen, and opened the front door.

The crimson darkness outside rushed in, instantly calming him down.

"Uh, Grande Soeur said that before we figure out the owl's situation, I shouldn't go out after dark…" Lumian muttered. He took two steps back and closed the door.

Anyway, there was no hurry to borrow the livre bleu. It would be more natural to do it tomorrow.

After doing a stretch, Lumian walked towards the staircase.

Ding ding ding ding ding.

The doorbell rang, the sound echoing through the house.

"Who is it?" Lumian turned around in confusion, calling out as he walked towards the door.

A slightly magnetic and gentle female voice sounded from outside.

"It's me, Pualis de Roquefort."

-x-X-x-

Madame Pualis… Lumian was shocked to see Madame Pualis standing outside his door. He had the illusion that someone had come to his place to silence him, but knowing that his sister was upstairs and had superpowers, he calmed down significantly.

Exhaling slowly, Lumian walked over and opened the door.

There were two women standing outside the door. The one in front was wearing a pure black and exquisite corset dress. She had a shawl of the same color on her shoulders, fishnet gloves on her hands, and a lady's round hat that was slightly slanted.

She was dressed in black, with only a diamond necklace inlaid with gold hanging on her chest.

!!

Her eyebrows were slightly thin, framing her bright, smiling brown eyes. Her long brown hair was tied into a high bun, and her facial features were not outstanding, but when combined, they had a clean and charming beauty. Coupled with her elegant temperament and graceful posture, it made the night at Lumian's door that was dyed a little red seem much fresher because of her. There was also a faint fragrance coming from her.

Madame Pualis, the wife of the Cordu village administrator and the territory's judge, Béost.

Lumian knew he had to add words like "the mistress of the padre", "suspected witch", "help-seeking suspect," and "the fair naked body in the cathedral" in his heart. However, these were not suitable to be said out loud. Otherwise, Madame Pualis would definitely change her expression on the spot.

If he succeeded in angering her, disaster might follow.

"Madame Pualis, what's the matter?" Lumian deliberately looked out at the sky, hinting that it was not appropriate for Madame Pualis to visit at this time.

Madame Pualis's red lips were a little moist as she spoke softly, "I'm here to discuss something with your sister Aurore."

From her appearance alone, she did not look like a woman in her thirties with two children. She was at most in her late twenties.

Lumian deliberated for a moment and made way.

"Aurore is upstairs, writing for her newspaper column," he informed the entering Madame Pualis.

Pualis nodded and said to the lady's maid beside her, "Cathy, wait for me downstairs."

"Yes, Madame." Dressed in a black-and-white lady's maid outfit, Cathy took a few steps towards the warm stove.

Lumian led Madame Pualis through the kitchen and towards the stairs.

Madame Pualis stopped at the corner.

"What's wrong?" Lumian turned around and pretended to be confused.

Madame Pualis asked with a smile, "Did you deliberately bring the three foreigners to the cathedral?"

She's finally here to question me… Lumian didn't panic but instead calmed down.

Lumian's previous experience of pranking and infuriating people had taught him that at such times, he could not directly answer the other party's question, nor could he defend himself. The best choice was to blame the other party for making a certain error!

Of course, this still depended on the situation. Turning around and running was an alternative.

Lumian revealed a furious look as he gazed at Madame Pualis and said, "You guys were actually having an affair in God's cathedral!"

He then spread open his arms and seemingly gestured as though he was "embracing the sun."

"My God, my Father, forgive the sacrilege of this guilty man and woman."

Madame Pualis watched him quietly, the ends of her lips curling beautifully.

"I think God will forgive us. I read a book once that said, 'A lady who shares a bed with her true love is cleansed of all sins, for love legitimizes pleasure, as though from the purest of hearts.' I'm very happy with Guillaume Bénet. Therefore, the Eternal Blazing Sun wouldn't be angry about this. It's not a sin."

What kind of books are you reading, Madame… Lumian couldn't help but inwardly criticize.

"But," Madame Pualis continued, "this is indeed disrespectful to St. Sith."

Every region of Intis had one or two guardian angels or saints, recognized by the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun or the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery's canon, or they had made special contributions in Intis's history. They were well known and respected by the two Churches.

In the Dariège region, the saint in charge of the Eternal Blazing Sun Church was St. Sith. Every Eternal Blazing Sun cathedral here could actually be called Saint Sith Cathedral. However, to differentiate them, only the largest and core cathedral was called that. Others had other names in place.

Therefore, Madame Pualis and the padre having an affair in the cathedral was equivalent to St. Sith's butler secretly bringing someone home and doing the deed in his master's bedroom. It was a great disrespect to the patron saint.

"That's right," Lumian nodded solemnly. "Isn't the padre ashamed?"

Madame Pualis burst into laughter.

After laughing, she said to Lumian, "Back then, I also persuaded him. I said, 'Oh la la, how can we do such a thing in the cathedral of St. Sith?' Guess what the padre said? He said, 'Oh, then St. Sith might have to put up with it a little.'"

Lumian, who was inexperienced in such matters, was momentarily at a loss for words.

"He's blaspheming the saint!" He finally managed to force out this sentence.

Madame Pualis looked like she was reminiscing.

"That's how he is. He's bold and direct, like a bandit who breaks through the door to your soul while swearing curses. He's completely different from the gentlemen in Dariège. Perhaps that's why I slept with him."

"That's just the normal behavior of some men in heat. Not to mention Saint Sith, even if a deity was there, he would make Him wait." Despite his lack of experience, Lumian had read enough novels written by Aurore to know a thing or two about human desire. "This belongs to having his mind controlled by his lower body. No, his head was already empty during that period, filled with another liquid."

Madame Pualis smiled.

"I know that's the reason, but he did appear very charming in that situation. Heh heh, you're indeed an inexperienced young man. Don't you know that the same words will make people feel differently in different environments and moods?

"I remember the first time I had sex with the padre. He stood there, looked me in the eyes, and said to me, 'Pualis, I want to go deeper in understanding your body and mind.' If it were any other time, I would only find him a crude and vulgar pervert. I would have called for help to stop him, but at that time, my body went limp. The mood was just right."

Madame Pualis smiled charmingly.

"It's like, if I had my eye on any man, I'd say to him, 'How does my place tonight sound?'

"If he really comes, I'll bring him straight into the bedroom and tell him, 'I want to make love with you. I love you.'

"Lumian, as a man, how would you answer at a time like this?"

Lumian usually told dirty jokes to the men in the village. Although he was a little uncomfortable, he managed to keep his composure. He tried his best to recall the stories his sister had written and the novels written by other contemporary authors. After some deliberation, he said, "Madame, you are my sunshine."

"Very talented…" Madame Pualis complimented.

As she spoke, she leaned forward, her eyes becoming moist.

A warm breath immediately blasted Lumian's ear, and a slightly magnetic and gentle female voice sounded softly.

"I want to make love with you…"

At that moment, Lumian's heart couldn't help but tremble. His body felt numb, as though he had received an electric shock from touching a broken electrical lamp.

He immediately took a step up the stairs and said to Madame Pualis, "Aurore should be waiting for you."

...

"Indeed." Madame Pualis straightened her back with a smile on her face.

It was as if nothing had happened.

This woman… Lumian suddenly felt a little afraid of this woman.

He turned around and reached the second floor in a few steps, with Madame Pualis following at a steady pace.

Aurore was already waiting outside the bedroom when she heard the doorbell.

"What took so long?" She looked at Lumian.

Lumian explained vaguely, "We talked about the cathedral."

Aurore understood immediately. She gave her brother a look that said, "Pray for good luck from the Eternal Blazing Sun."

She turned to Madame Pualis, who had just arrived on the second floor, and asked with a smile, "What's the matter?"

"I wanted to talk about the preparations for Lent. I might need your help with a celebration," Madame Pualis said with a smile.

"You caught me at a bad moment…" Aurore found an excuse to decline.

...

Madame Pualis pointed at the door and said, "How about you hear it first?"

"Alright." Aurore remained polite.

Watching his sister and Madame Pualis enter the study and close the wooden door, Lumian nodded indiscernibly.

Acting normally without showing any trace of returning to the 'crime scene'…

Suddenly, an idea struck him like a bolt of lightning.

There is a high chance that Madame Pualis is a female Warlock. Can I get supernatural powers from her?

It would be much more convenient and safer than facing that owl head-on while searching for the truth of the Warlock or exploring the dangerous dream ruins…

After all, I have to unlock the secret as soon as possible to eliminate any hidden dangers. It's less risky once I obtain superpowers.

But Lumian soon became vigilant and shook his head.

He then self-reflected, How can I think that way?

I don't even know if Madame Pualis is a friend or foe. How can I seek supernatural power through her?

Yes, her actions didn't paint her to be a good person just now. She even made me feel a sense of danger…

What's wrong with me recently? Am I too hasty and rash in pursuing superpowers? It's as if I'll die if I don't obtain them quickly…

It had been nearly two years since Lumian discovered that his sister was a Warlock. Though he had tried to obtain supernatural powers before, he had never worked as hard as he had in the past few days. No matter if the opportunity was good or bad, or if there was danger, as long as there seemed to be hope, he could not wait to come into contact with it. It was as if he was not picky with food after starving for ages.

Phew… Thank goodness I sensed the problem in time. Otherwise, I might end up taking a more deviated and dangerous path. Lumian let out a long sigh, relieved that he had regained his normal state of mind.

But he knew it was impossible to stop pursuing supernatural powers. He just needed choices. After all, the dangerous dream had already revealed itself, and the undercurrents in the village were getting more and more turbulent.

-x-X-x-

Madame Pualis and Aurore didn't talk for long. Ten minutes later, they walked out of the study.

Lumian walked Madame Pualis out of the door with his sister.

He looked at his sister and asked, "What did she want you to do?"

Aurore pouted and replied, "She wanted me to be the lead singer at the Praise Celebration, but I refused."

Cordu Village's Lent festival had three segments—Spring Elf blessing tour, waterside ritual, Praise Celebration held in the cathedral. The last segment mainly consisted of playing musical instruments and choral singing.

In the Dariège region, the lead singer was often from the cathedral choir, but Cordu could only seek out singers who were good at singing as alternatives.

As for musical instruments, the villagers didn't worry about it. In villages with shepherds, music or musical instruments were indispensable in their daily lives.

Shepherds lived in the wild all year round, either in shacks or pits. Other than their companions and sheep, the most common thing they interacted with was the flute they carried with them.

Apart from grazing, playing cards, and chatting, playing the flute and using music to comfort oneself was something almost every shepherd would do.

It was precisely because of this that the phrase used to describe a shepherd in a difficult and impoverished situation was "he doesn't even have a flute."

With so many shepherds around, it was inevitable that the other villagers of Cordu would be affected. When they gathered and chatted in the square, there would always be someone playing an instrument, causing the melodious melody to reverberate.

Lumian was pleased to see his sister being steadfast. "Okay," he said with satisfaction.

Joining in the celebrations was enough. If one wanted to take center stage, it would be a waste of time and could attract unnecessary attention.

In order to protect his eyesight, Lumian read for a while, then decided to wash up and turn in early. He considered how to safely test what was special about him in the dream.

The lady's suggestions had proven accurate several times in a row, making Lumian unconsciously believe her completely.

In the dead of night, Lumian entered the dream again and woke up there.

He checked his pockets and confirmed that the 217 verl d'or and 25 coppet were still there.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Lumian picked up his axe and steel fork and headed downstairs to the stove.

The fire had already been extinguished.

The clock continues spinning when I'm not dreaming… Lumian frowned slightly.

How could there be anything special about him in such a "real" dream?

"The clock continues spinning" was a common saying in the Dariège region, meaning that time waited for no man and never stood still.

In the bedroom he deemed safest, Lumian put down his tools and undressed.

He walked to the full-body mirror attached to the wardrobe and checked his body inch by inch to see if there was anything different from reality.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Mentally special? Lumian wasn't in a hurry to put his clothes on. Instead, he walked back to the bed and sat down cross-legged, like his sister often did when meditating.

Aurore had previously taught him some superficial meditation techniques that did not involve mystical elements to foster lucid dreams. Now, Lumian wanted to try and see if he could sense anything special about his mind and body in the completely quiet scene.

The first step was to regulate his breathing.

Lumian deepened his breathing and slowed down the corresponding frequency.

As he took slow, long, and rhythmic breaths, Lumian slowly emptied his mind.

At the same time, he outlined a red sun in his mind and focused all his attention and thoughts on it to eliminate other messy thoughts.

Aurore had instructed him to choose objects that represented light during meditation, in case he was targeted by vile, evil things.

As a believer in the Eternal Blazing Sun, Lumian's first reaction was to visualize the sun.

Gradually, his mind calmed down, and in his perception, the entire world seemed to have only that red blazing sun left.

Suddenly, Lumian heard something.

It seemed to come from an infinite distance yet was ringing in his ears. The sound was unclear but had inklings of rumbling thunder.

Amidst the indescribable buzzing, Lumian's heart began to race. It was as if someone had inserted a chisel into his head and stirred it a few times.

An intense pain erupted, and the blazing sun turned as red as blood and quickly dyed black.

The scene in his meditation shattered.

Lumian's eyes snapped open, and he gasped for air. He felt like he was about to die.

After almost twenty seconds, he finally recovered from the near-death experience.

He instinctively lowered his head and examined his body, noticing something strange on the left side of his chest.

A symbol that looked like thorns, black as night, seemed to grow from his heart and extend out of his body, connecting one after another like chains.

Above these thorns were patterns resembling eyes and worm-like distorted lines, all bluish-black.

At this moment, the tattoo-like symbols were slowly fading.

Lumian was first shocked, then had many thoughts.

He quickly got off the bed and went straight to the full-body mirror, aiming his back at it.

Then, he tried his best to turn his head left to check the situation on his back.

He could barely see the chain made of black thorns drilling into his body from his back.

In other words, this chain of thorns sealed his heart and corresponding body in the form of a ring.

Lumian analyzed what was 'special' about him that was unlike reality until the symbols completely faded and disappeared. The black and bluish-black symbols are different, and the bluish-black one looks familiar. Yes, it's very similar to the old man I helped when I was wandering. It was also from that time that I began to have dreams with large amounts of fog.

Lumian found the symbols to be special but meaningless, which left him feeling disappointed.

The process of making them appear was extremely painful, pushing him to the brink of death.

In a state that nearly knocked him out, what was the difference between facing the monster with a shotgun and delivering food to it?

...

And if he waited until he had the strength to fight again, the 'special' trait would have almost disappeared.

It was cold in the dream, like early spring in the mountains. Lumian found it uncomfortable being naked, so he quickly put on his clothes.

Just doing such a simple thing made him extremely tired, and his head hurt again.

Obviously, he couldn't recover from the impact the meditation had caused him in a short period of time.

Under such circumstances, Lumian decided to give up exploring for the night and not make any attempts. He would sleep well and focus on recuperating.

...

The sky was still dark when Lumian woke up.

Looking at the darkness in the house and the redness near the curtains, he carefully recalled what had happened in the dream.

I've meditated many times in reality, but I didn't hear that strange sound or feel any pain…

It's something special that only exists in that dream? Lumian sat up in puzzlement, planning to confirm.

He followed the procedure and tried meditating again.

...

The red sun quickly appeared in his mind, and the chaos in his mind gradually settled down.

This was a familiar meditation experience for Lumian. There were no strange sounds, no intense pain, and no near-death experience.

After a while, he ended his meditation, unbuttoned his shirt, and looked down at his heart.

There was no symbol there.

Indeed, that's the special trait of the dream. It can't affect reality… Lumian didn't know if he should be happy or disappointed.

He raised his head and looked at the curtain that blocked the windows. His thoughts scattered as he thought about whether the "special" trait in the dream could be exploited, and how.

At that moment, he saw a small shadow outside the window.

Lumian's pupils dilated, turning high-strung as his instinctive reaction was to call out to his sister. But then he remembered that he was at home and Aurore had said she would watch over him, so she should have sensed it.

Slowly and carefully, he approached the window, waiting for his sister to call an end to his actions.

But Aurore did not appear.

Lumian came to the window, grabbed the curtain, and cautiously pulled open a crack.

Outside the window was the quiet and dark night. The crimson moon hung far away in the sky.

On an elm tree not far away, an owl, larger than most of its kind, with eyes that were neither dull nor stiff, stood quietly, facing Lumian's window. It looked at Lumian with an indescribable look of superciliousness.

That owl!

It's here again!

Lumian's heart was in his throat.

Just like the last time, the owl looked at Lumian for about ten seconds before spreading its wings and flying deep into the night.

"…" Lumian was speechless.

After a while, he drew the curtains and cursed, "Is there something wrong with your head?

"You would come and take a look every single time, not saying a word before leaving!

"Are you mute, or is there something wrong with your IQ? Have you not learned human language after so many years?"

In fact, Lumian had his own guesses about the owl's actions. He believed that his sister's existence made it afraid to do anything. After all, Aurore had said that as long as he didn't leave the building at night, she could guarantee his safety. If he had stuck his head out of the window on impulse just now, the owl probably wouldn't have flown away quietly.

After cursing for a while, Lumian decided to close the curtains and catch up on some sleep.

He casually glanced outside and suddenly froze.

More than ten meters away, at the edge of a small forest, a figure was slowly walking over.

She wore a dark-colored dress made of coarse cloth, and her hair was thin and pale-white.

"Naroka…" Lumian recognized the figure.

It was Naroka, who he had asked about the legend of the Warlock.

Naroka's face blended into the darkness, and her eyes reflected a strange light under the faint crimson moonlight. Her movements were abnormally stiff, like a wandering ghost.

-x-X-x-

Lumian subconsciously held his breath and shrank back a little.

Naroka did not come in this direction. Slowly, she entered the small forest and disappeared into the deep night.

Lumian was slightly worried. She doesn't seem right… Did something happen?

Recently, there had been more and more abnormalities in the village.

He looked outside for a while, and the night had returned to silence. Only the swaying leaves proved the existence of the wind.

"What are you looking at?" Aurore's voice suddenly came from behind him.

Lumian turned around and was delighted to see his sister, who was wearing a two-piece pajama set.

"Did you also notice something wrong?"

"No," Aurore replied, her blond hair slightly messy and fluffy from just waking up.

Then she added angrily, "I don't see anything wrong. All I know is that there's a guy who's up in the middle of the night, loitering at the window."

"It'll be dawn in an hour tops. How can it be considered the middle of the night…" Lumian muttered out of habit. Then he asked, "Didn't you come over because of the owl? Didn't you see Naroka outside?"

"Naroka?" Aurore revealed a rare blank expression.

Lumian recounted everything from the moment he woke up and realized that there was a black shadow outside the window to the strangely-behaving Naroka walking into the forest.

As for the special trait he discovered while meditating in his dream, he planned to consult the mysterious woman first before considering how to tell Aurore or hide it for a while to prevent his sister from stopping him from obtaining superpowers.

Aurore furrowed her beautiful blond brows.

"Something might have already happened to Naroka…

"Go check on them at dawn."

Lumian asked subconsciously, "What could have happened?"

"How would I know? I didn't see her; there's no way I can make an accurate judgment," Aurore snapped back.

"You really didn't see her?" Lumian thought that his sister had been monitoring him the entire time.

Aurore scoffed. "Do you think you can see whatever you want? If you see something you shouldn't, you have to consider which graveyard to bury me in. I won't look outside for no reason. I'll just monitor your condition. I'll only wake up if something's wrong."

Lumian was stunned for a moment and couldn't help but blink. Grande Soeur is taking such a huge risk to watch over me…

Aurore added earnestly, "That's why I'm telling you, don't look at what you shouldn't see and don't listen to what you shouldn't hear. Pursuing extraordinary power is a very dangerous thing."

"Got it." Lumian nodded solemnly.

At the same time, he thought to himself, It's precisely because it's dangerous that I can't let you go at it alone.

...

After breakfast, Lumian followed his sister's instructions and headed straight to Naroka's house.

As he approached, he saw many villagers standing outside the door, including his friends, Ava's father Guillaume Lizier, Reimund's father Pierre Greg, and the padre's younger brother Pons Bénet.

"What happened?" Lumian carefully circled around Pons Bénet and the few thugs surrounding him and went to Reimund's side.

Reimund replied sadly."Naroka passed away."

"Ah?" Lumian was prepared for something to happen to Naroka, but he didn't expect her to be dead.

Reimund rambled on. "Before dawn, the padre came to give her the last rites. She was still fine and energetic two days ago when we asked her about the legend of the Warlock. Why would she suddenly pass away…"

Before dawn? Lumian was alarmed.

He realized that it was precisely that moment when he saw Naroka. The exact timing of the padre's last rites didn't make much of a difference.

Lumian's mind raced with thoughts. So, what I saw was actually Naroka's ghost? This happened after the owl flew over. Can it really take away a human's soul? Yes, Naroka was one of the witnesses to the Warlock incident that happened back then… If I hadn't listened to Grande Soeur and went out after dark, I might have been the one the padre did last rites with. Heh, his version of it for me is probably spitting at me…

Reimund didn't chat with him. He stood outside the two-story house and quietly mourned Naroka.

After Lumian reined in his thoughts, he saw Leah, Ryan, and Valentine walking over.

"Did something happen here?" Leah asked before Lumian could even greet her.

They saw many people gathered on the road.

Lumian sighed and said, "My cabbages, an honorable old lady has passed away."

"Then why are all of you standing outside?" Leah asked without offering any condolences, not fully convinced by Lumian's explanation.

She was still wearing the same clothes as before.

Lumian made an obvious sizing-up gesture, which made Leah panic.

"What's wrong?" Ryan asked.

Lumian smiled. "You're definitely not Dariège locals."

"We're from Bigorre," Ryan answered frankly.

Bigorre was the provincial capital of the Intis Republic's Riston Province, while Dariège was a city on the southern border of Riston Province. It covered a large area, including the village of Cordu.

Lumian nodded. "It's no wonder you don't know the customs of the Dariège region."

He had initially thought that these three foreigners were officials from Dariège, but it turned out that they were from the provincial capital, Bigorre.

Lumian silently updated his judgment of Leah and company. Looks like their status is much higher than I expected…

Leah asked with interest, "What kind of customs? Can you tell us?"

Lumian planned on forging a good relationship with them, so he smiled and said, "You're my cabbages. Why wouldn't I tell you?

"As you know, everyone has their own corresponding horoscope. And in the Dariège region, we also believe that every family has their own horoscope that determines the amount of providence they receive. The death and funeral of the family, especially the head of the house, will take away such good providence.

"In order not to affect the horoscope and retain the providence, we will place the deceased in the center of a family before burial, which is the kitchen. Then, we will trim off some of her hair and nails and keep them in the house forever without letting them be discovered by any guests.

"At such a time, if a person attending the funeral enters the house, it will affect the corresponding horoscope and take away a portion of their providence. Therefore, we attend the funeral by mourning outside. At most, we will look in from the door and wait at the cemetery beside the cathedral."

"I see," Ryan nodded in understanding. "It's the same as how every cathedral in every region has holy bones stored. 'The sage is forever where a part of their body is.'"

He turned to face Naroka's house, removed his top hat, placed it against his chest, and began to mourn.

Leah and Valentine also expressed their condolences.

When they were done, Lumian said to them, "I'm going to the door to look at her. I'll see you later, my cabbages."

"Okay," Ryan replied with a gentle nod.

Lumian lowered his voice and added, "I'll help you find that livre bleu."

Before Leah and the others could respond, he stepped to the side and smiled.

"Why do you wear the same clothes every day?"

"We can't care too much about appearances when we are out in a foreign land for extended periods," Ryan explained simply, while Leah subconsciously touched the silver bell hanging from her veil.

After bidding farewell to Valentine and the others, Lumian walked to Naroka's door.

He had to queue for a while before it was finally his turn.

Lumian stood by the door and looked at the kitchen ahead.

Naroka's corpse had not yet been placed into a coffin. It was lying quietly on a simple bed made of a few benches.

Her nails had been trimmed, and her thin white hair was much neater than before.

Her face was pale, and her wrinkles deepened the lines on her face. Lumian didn't dare to look at her for too long.

Compared to when I saw her before dawn, her face is even whiter, Lumian thought to himself as he made a slight bow before leaving the door.

On the way to the cemetery with Reimund, Lumian suddenly slapped his head.

"Sacrebleu, I forgot to inform Aurore."

"What are you waiting for?" Reimund asked, understanding the importance of keeping Aurore in the loop.

Aurore didn't enjoy being out most of the time. She really wasn't kept in the loop if not for her brother.

Lumian saw an opportunity and said, "Coincidentally, this place isn't far from your place. Lend me your livre bleu for two days. A few pages of mine had been gnawed away by rats, so I need to copy it."

"Okay," Reimund agreed.

In any case, there was still some time before the burial.

...

Lumian returned home and hid the livre bleu before informing Aurore about Naroka's passing.

She couldn't help but sigh.

"As expected, something happened. I wonder if it was caused by that owl…"

"I suspect so too," Lumian agreed, echoing his sister.

Aurore tersely acknowledged and said, "You must not leave the house after dark. You have to find a way to warn the people who were seeking out the legend of the Warlock with you."

Lumian had already scared Reimund with Naroka's death, having just asked about the Warlock legend two days ago, and instructed him not to go out after dark for the time being. "Alright," he replied.

"Naroka is a good person. I'll change my clothes and attend her funeral," Aurore said, walking towards the stairs. "Do you want to come with me, or do you want to read some books and do a test set before going?"

Why am I still doing test sets at a time like this? Lumian couldn't quite understand his sister's train of thought.

Considering that he had to compare the livres bleu, he said to Aurore, "I'll do a paper before I go."

"Very good." Aurore was rather pleased.

After Aurore left, Lumian's expression darkened.

He went up to the second floor and entered the study. He took out the livre bleu that he had borrowed from Reimund and compared it to the one at home where part of the words had been cut out.

Time slowly passed as Lumian pieced together the corresponding words one by one and wrote them on a piece of paper.

He made adjustments according to the length of the two sentences, and soon the contents of a possible request for help appeared in front of him: "We need help as soon as possible. The people around us are getting weirder."

-x-X-x-

Lumian fell silent, his eyes glued to the restored request for help.

Although what he pieced together wasn't necessarily the content of the letter; after all, the words could create other sentences like 'the people around us need help as soon as possible; we are getting weirder.' He couldn't help but feel a weight pressing down on his heart.

In the past, he might've dismissed it as a prank, but too many abnormal things were happening in Cordu—and those were only the ones he noticed.

I can't pretend that I didn't see anything, nor can I pretend that nothing happened…

!!

Grande Soeur said that a person with a normal heart and mind needs to know how to avoid danger. They shouldn't stand under a wall upon discovering that it's about to collapse…

He snapped out of his reverie and made up his mind.

He couldn't risk staying in Cordu a moment longer. He had to leave with his sister, and he had to do it now!

Regarding the abnormality, the officials would undoubtedly handle it. The villagers of Cordu were under their protection, and Lumian had neither the duty nor the capability to take on such a responsibility.

In addition, I have to speed up the exploration of the dream ruins and strive to obtain superpowers in a short period of time to deal with any accidents that might happen when I leave this place… The urgency of the situation filled him with a sense of imperative that he couldn't ignore.

He needed to become much stronger if he wanted to protect his sister and ensure her safety. The last thing he wanted was for her to be implicated in any abnormalities that might erupt before they left Cordu.

Keeping his mission in mind, Lumian carefully returned his livre bleu to its original place. Then, he snatched up the piece of paper containing the words and sentences from before and strode purposefully down the stairs.

He made his way over to the stove and tossed the piece of paper into the hungry flames.

Once outside, Lumian wasted no time in making his way straight to Ol' Tavern.

But as he approached the door, he found it tightly shut, a clear indication that the owner and bartender, Maurice Bénet, had likely gone to attend Naroka's funeral.

Still, Lumian knew that as a part-time hotel, it was impossible to lock all the doors during the day without inconveniencing the guests.

So, he headed for a side trail and slipped in through the back door.

Climbing up the stairs, Lumian scanned the hallway but saw no one in sight.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Lumian's footsteps echoed as he ascended the stairs to the second floor of the inn. He paused outside the door of the enigmatic woman's room, examining the doorknob for any sign of a "Do Not Disturb" placard. Finding none, he inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, steadying himself. With a bend of his finger, he rapped lightly on the door.

Knock! Knock! Knock…

He knocked three times in a row, but there was no movement inside.

Knock. Knock. Knock… No answer. Lumian tried again, rapping more firmly this time.

He pounded on the door, but the room remained silent.

She's not here? Lumian frowned. She went to attend Naroka's funeral?

Without wasting a moment, he bolted down the stairs and out of the inn, making a beeline for the cemetery beside the cathedral.

En route, he passed by Naroka's house, where the mourners who had said their farewells at the door had dispersed and headed to the cemetery to await the procession.

Lumian surveyed the area, his eyes scanning the landscape until he spotted a figure emerging from the house. It was none other than Pons Bénet, the younger brother of the padre.

"Wh…" Lumian's heart skipped a beat as he leaned against the nearby building, trying to remain inconspicuous.

Wasn't it strictly forbidden to enter the house of the deceased as it could potentially influence the family's fortunes?

Pons Bénet stopped in front of Naroka's house and whispered something to Arnault André, the old lady's youngest son.

After a brief exchange, Pons Bénet departed, leaving Arnault to lock up the house and make his way to the cemetery.

Naroka's death is indeed a little peculiar… Lumian frowned and muttered to himself silently.

He now felt that perhaps the owl wasn't to be blamed for Naroka's death. It was more probable that the padre's group has something to do with it.

The owl might be simply adhering to its duty of taking souls from the dead in Cordu. It just happened to stop on the way and observed Lumian for a while.

Of course, Lumian had an even more terrifying guess: What if the padre's group and the owl are connected!?

Their peculiarities and clandestine activities could be attributed to the Warlock's remains.

Before exiting Cordu, I should find an opportunity to share my thoughts with Ryan, Leah, and company. I hope they'll uncover the truth and put an end to the issue expeditiously. Lumian averted his gaze and mumbled to himself as he headed towards the Eternal Blazing Sun cathedral.

Despite appearing somber and solemn during the funeral, Lumian kept a watchful eye on each villager, hoping to detect any abnormality in their demeanor.

Alas, his efforts yielded no fruit.

Nonetheless, he had a sneaking suspicion that some of the villagers were wearing a facade…

Additionally, the enigmatic woman who had bestowed upon him the tarot card was nowhere to be found at the cemetery.

...

As the evening descended upon the semi-subterranean two-story abode, Aurore fixed her eyes on her brother, Lumian, and demanded, "Where's your script? Let me see it."

Lumian's expression turned serious as he replied, "I have something to tell you."

Aurore scanned his face.

"Did some wild animal in the village chew your script again?"

"No," Lumian whispered, his voice low. "I found out something from those foreigners."

Aurore's smile faded as she nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

Lumian revealed how Ryan and his gang were snooping around, investigating a letter, and the peculiarity of the livre bleu at home. He spoke of his suspicions regarding Madame Pualis and the letter's contents, which he had unearthed using Reimund's livre bleu.

Finally, he suggested, "We have to leave the village as soon as possible and head to Dariège. No, Bigorre. We'll stay there for a while."

Aurore didn't respond right away. She mulled over Lumian's suggestion for more than ten seconds.

"This is indeed the best choice for now.

"However, there's a problem. If we suddenly bolt from Cordu while the officials are investigating, won't it draw attention to us? Will they intercept us and make us the focus of their investigation?"

"It's fine if I'm not a Beyonder, but I'm an unofficial Beyonder. I'll be captured and cleansed by the Inquisition."

Lumian was out of his depth, an amateur in a sea of seasoned veterans. The problem at hand was a conundrum that he had never faced before, and for a moment, he was at a loss for words.

...

He finally managed to stutter, "So what's the plan? We break out and hide in another city, another country?"

"Oh, Lumian, you are overestimating me," she said. "Those three foreigners are more powerful than you think. If there was only one, I might be able to take them on, but three? And what if there's an ambush outside the village? Maybe they're just waiting for us to make a run for it."

Lumian was speechless.

He had to admit, compared to his sister, he was still green behind the ears. He just didn't have the same level of experience or the sharp attention to detail that she possessed.

"You're too impulsive," Aurore said, shaking her head. "But I suppose that's to be expected. After all, what young man doesn't have a bit of fire in his belly?"

She paused for a moment.

"Tomorrow morning, you're going to do me a favor. Head over to the administrator's office and help me send a telegram to Novel Weekly. Ask them when their next author salon will be held."

Aurore was a beloved columnist for Novel Weekly.

Only the administrator and the padre possessed a telegram machine, reserved for emergency communications. The villagers could use it, but at a cost in verl d'or.

Aurore saw Lumian's confusion and quickly explained her plan, "Novel Weekly has been begging me to promote my work in Trier, but I've always refused, including the most recent author salon. However, if I ask them to invite me now, they'll jump at the chance and even reimburse our train tickets. Our departure will seem ordinary, and even if we're being watched, we won't be suspects. I can temporarily trick them when the time comes. As long as we don't let the abnormality corrupt us, our chances of slipping out of Cordu are high."

Lumian breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright," he said.

...

In just a few seconds, Lumian posed an intriguing question to Aurore.

"Aurore, uh, Grande Soeur, is Beyonder a term for people with superpowers?"

"Yes," Aurore replied, choosing not to elaborate any further.

However, Aurore then flashed a sly smile and said, "So, you're really going to abandon your friends and flee from Cordu."

"I must have missed the part where that's my problem," Lumian snorted in response.

Keeping his sister safe was his top priority at the moment.

Aurore clicked her tongue and laughed.

"Oh, Lumian, you're such a delight. Say that again, would you?

"How many times have you said that before? And yet, every time, you either quietly offer your help or give them a pretend warning," Aurore continued.

"Those were trivial matters," Lumian defended himself.

However, the abnormality they faced now was a real threat to his sister's safety.

"Okay, okay," Aurore sighed, not wanting to argue with the kid. "Let's get dinner ready. It's your turn to cook today."

Lumian grunted tersely and headed towards the stove.

...

The night was dark, the crimson moon obscured by thick clouds.

Lumian finished washing up and lay down on the bed.

A visible worry crept onto his face.

Aurore's response wasn't bad, but Lumian was worried that the anomalies in the village would erupt at any moment while they waited for Novel Weekly's reply.

Lumian was desperate to increase his strength and obtaining superpowers in the dream ruins seemed like the easiest option.

However, he hadn't been able to find that lady all day and didn't have any corresponding suggestions. He was left with no choice but to try it out himself.

The situation was like a nocked arrow, ready to fire, and Lumian couldn't afford to hesitate.

Without hesitation, Lumian composed himself and slowly drifted off to sleep.

-x-X-x-

Lumian awoke to the world shrouded in a faint, gray fog.

With practiced ease, he bounded out of bed and rushed to the window. His gaze fell upon the mountain, a towering behemoth of brownish-red stones and reddish-brown soil that loomed in the wilderness beyond.

Despite its modest size, a mere twenty or thirty meters tall, the mountain seemed to stretch endlessly upwards, piercing the very heavens themselves. Lumian found himself using the words "mountain peak" to describe it, so profound was its impact on him.

Beneath its massive frame, the ruins of dilapidated structures encircled the desolate wilderness, stacked atop one another, layer upon layer.

Judging by the shotgun-wielding monster's build, I'd say it's highly skilled in both running and jumping. It also appears to possess a degree of intelligence, capable of wielding a weapon as complex as a shotgun…

It has incredibly strong tracking abilities, and I can't discount the possibility that it possesses some sort of superpowers, much like Aurore…

…

As Lumian focused his mind, details of the target began to surface.

His initial judgment was grim—if he attempted to face the monster with the shotgun, his chance of survival was a meager 10 percent. And if he tried to utilize his special trait, it would only hasten his demise. His meditation was a double-edged sword; it pushed him to the brink of death, making him vulnerable to even the slightest strike from the enemy.

Sneak attacks and assassinations were not viable options either. The other party possessed an uncanny ability to track his movements, rendering any attempts at stealth futile. Plus, Lumian lacked the necessary equipment to mount a ranged assault. A revolver would have been a godsend.

For the past two days, Lumian had wracked his brains trying to come up with a plan. And finally, a solution presented itself: traps!

He had ventured deep into the mountains with the village hunters, where he mastered the art of setting traps. Since then, Lumian had become a pro at pulling off a few practical jokes.

Lumian's initial plan was to use oil as a weapon. His idea was to fill a large bucket with oil, tie a rope to it, and hide it somewhere high. When his target approached, he would yank the rope, causing the bucket to tip over, drenching the unsuspecting victim with oil. Then, he would light a torch and toss it at them.

However, after some deliberation, he gave up on the idea.

On the premise that the creature had strong tracking abilities, he knew he had to overestimate its sense of smell.

The smell of oil was quite obvious, and if he used other stronger smells to cover it up, he wasn't sure if the other party would react differently. The monster might even be able to distinguish even the slightest abnormality, like wild dogs.

In the end, Lumian chose to dig a deep pit and plant stakes at the bottom.

He knew that there was a certain problem with this plan. With the tracking abilities displayed by the monster, there was a high chance that it would discover the anomaly in advance and see through the trap.

Lumian's response was to find a way to exploit its blind spots and lower its guard.

His weapons were inferior to the creature's, but he hoped his intelligence could give him the upper hand. As a human, he had one advantage: his brain.

At least from our last encounter, it possesses a certain degree of intelligence, albeit not quite that high… Lumian comforted himself.

But he refused to let this lull him into a false sense of security. He would plan assuming that the creature had the cognitive abilities of an average human being.

Someone like Pons Bénet.

No, that guy's IQ is lower than a pile of rocks. If it weren't for all his goons, I'd have him bowing down to me and calling me daddy. After a moment of contemplation, Lumian raised his expectations of the monster. Yes, treat it like an uneducated padre.

He gazed out the window again, his eyes fixated on the wilderness between his dwelling and the ruins.

This place was closer to the "safe zone," making it the ideal location for his hideout. However, there was no cover, leaving everything exposed in plain sight, making it unsuitable for an ambush.

"It's fine to dig a trap, but if I use myself as bait, the other party will be able to spot me from a distance and shoot me. It won't need to come over at all…" Lumian muttered, contemplating whether to take the risk of entering the ruins to set up a trap.

His plan took shape rapidly, with one thing left to confirm: it would take a lot of time to dig a deep pit and plant stakes below. Lumian couldn't expect the other party to wait until he was done.

After a moment's reflection, Lumian opened his arms and made an "embrace the Sun" gesture. He prayed more fervently than ever before.

"My God, my Father, please bless me and aid me in dealing with that monster.

"Praise the Sun!"

There was no 100% certainty for most things in the world. Lumian didn't hesitate for a moment. He grabbed the pitchfork and axe from the bedroom and proceeded to the study.

Considering the target's weapon, Lumian knew he had to switch up his protection gear.

He shed his cotton clothes and lashed hard-bound books to his chest and back with a rope.

This was makeshift paper armor!

He vaguely remembered his sister warning him about the potential for internal injuries, but he couldn't afford to worry about that now.

He stretched to make sure the weight of the books wouldn't impede his fighting abilities, then donned his leather jacket and headed down to the ground floor to gather materials for his trap.

Not long after, Lumian's grip tightened on the shovel and bundle of ropes at his waist, one for climbing and the other for crafting rope nets to replace the tree branches.

He breathed deeply, steeling himself for what lay ahead, and gripped the iron axe in his right hand as he opened the door.

A faint gray fog crept through the wilderness as Lumian approached the mountain, the peak now dyed in blood.

Lumian made his way through the eerie silence, creeping towards the edge of the ruins.

With caution, he walked a distance to the side and tossed his shovel, pitchfork, ropes, and other gear into a dark corner of a collapsed building. With only his trusty axe in hand, he returned to the spot where he had entered the ruins.

Moving quietly and deliberately, Lumian crept deeper into the ruins without drawing attention to himself.

When he finally reached the spot where the three-faced monster had scared him off last time, he paused for nearly a minute before turning back.

Halfway there, he began to detour, circling back towards the collapsed house where he had stored his tools.

As he approached, Lumian scanned the terrain, searching for a suitable location to set up his trap.

There's a relatively wide and short crevice here. With a little modification, it'll make an excellent trap and save me precious time. As for the other one, well, that might take a while. But I'll just have to hope the monster won't find me too quickly…

Lumian retrieved his shovel and other gear, turned back to the chosen location, and set to work.

After modifying the crevice, Lumian wielded his axe and sliced off a jagged piece of wood, then inserted it into the trap's base. He crafted a net from rope, draping it over the trap before covering it with soil, ensuring that it blended seamlessly with its surroundings.

With everything in place, he began to mimic the monster tracking him.

If this creature is as perceptive as I think it is, it will sense the trap and avoid it, perhaps leaping over it in a single bound. However, it would inevitably reach this spot…

I need to be here, so it spots me the moment it arrives… Lumian measured the distance with his feet and confirmed his line of sight before settling on a relatively intact wall.

He squatted there and confirmed his line of sight.

Then he began to dig a second trap.

This was a trap specifically designed for "normal humans."

Lumian knew that when someone had managed to track down their target and easily realized that the other party had laid a trap for them, only to discover that the enemy was lying in wait nearby, they'd probably get cocky. Their thirst for success would overwhelm them, and they'd ignore the possibility of a second trap, eagerly lunging at their prey.

It was a classic flaw of people with pedestrian intelligence.

Lumian just prayed that the monster didn't possess the average IQ of a human. If it did, he had no choice but to bolt. Odds were he'd be ensnared and left to die in the wild, with a slim chance of making it back to his house and hiding in the "safe zone."

Cordu's abnormality had forced him to make a dangerous choice.

With every passing moment, Lumian grew increasingly wary. Even though he had set up the second trap, the monster with the shotgun had yet to make an appearance.

The same held true for the other monsters.

At last, Lumian began to relax. After stowing away his shovel and other supplies, he stood tall, spreading his arms wide.

"Praise the Sun!" he exclaimed with renewed vigor.

Lumian shrank back against the wall and fell to his knee, his eyes fixated on the first trap.

There was no clear line of sight to the path he took, obstructed by a collapsed building looming in his way.

He waited there, patiently, his heart thumping in his chest. Lumian could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and the sensation was unprecedented.

As a vagrant, Lumian had encountered his fair share of "enemies" who were bigger and brawnier than him. But they weren't looking to off him; they just wanted his grub, dough, and a decent spot to catch some Z's. Even if someone happened to die in the scuffle, it was chalked up to an unfortunate accident.

But now, the adversary he was up against was a monstrous creature that didn't abide by human laws or morals. And it was exponentially stronger than Lumian. Hell, it might even possess a few superpowers. If his scheme went sideways, the outcome was all but certain.

Thump, thump, thump… Lumian's heart was about to leap out of his chest.

Everyone wanted to live the good life, and Lumian was no exception.

Breathe in, breathe out… breathe in, breathe out…

Lumian tried to take deep breaths to steady his nerves, but it wasn't helping.

Lumian hoped the monster would appear sooner, though he dreaded its arrival.

On the one hand, it could bring a quick resolution to this situation, regardless of whether the outcome was positive or negative. At least then he wouldn't be as anxious as he was now, almost at the point of breaking down. On the other hand, fear gripped him tightly.

Realizing that he couldn't go on like this, he reminded himself, I can't burden Aurore with my fears. With that, he attempted to meditate, focusing all his energy on the task.

Although it proved more challenging than before, Lumian eventually managed to outline the crimson sun in his mind.

The mere sight of it eased his nerves somewhat, yet he still trembled with fear.

Suddenly, he heard a faint rustling sound.

It was as if a shepherd was approaching quietly through a nearby pasture, hidden from view.

-x-X-x-

Lumian's senses were on high alert.

He wasn't as scared as before now that things were finally happening. Despite his body still quivering, he felt more in control and less likely to collapse.

I should've died five years ago. It's all thanks to Aurore that I'm still alive. These past five years were a free lunch. What's there to be afraid of??Lumian muttered to himself, gritting his teeth and mustering up courage.

In the blink of an eye, the already dim light illuminating the first trap's surface grew even fainter.

A shadowy figure emerged, blocking the light that pierced through the dense fog in the sky.

The figure loomed in the distance, a hulking beast with blood-red eyes and greasy black hair. Half-human and half-beast, it was armed with a shotgun on its back, ready for anything. Its front "knees" bent as it surveyed the ground before it.

A moment later, the beast, wearing a dark jacket and muddy pants, removed its shotgun and jumped, controlling the vertical extent of its jump to leap over the trap and land on the solid, cracked ground.

It turned its greasy black-haired head and saw a slight movement.

Then, the monster spotted Lumian, who had a panicked expression and was trying to hide behind a wall.

With a low growl, the beast jumped up high again and pounced on its target.

It landed a slight distance away from where Lumian had been, to prevent him from turning around and dealing a fatal blow before it could stabilize itself.

Lumian fumbled his way around the wall, disappearing from view.

As soon as the monster landed, the soil beneath its feet gave way, and it plummeted along with the dirt and rope net into a deep pit that had suddenly appeared.

Thud!

The sound of something heavy crashing to the ground echoed through the abandoned building, accompanied by a screech resembling that of a rat.

Lumian, who had concealed himself behind the wall, couldn't suppress the thrill surging through him upon witnessing the sight.

The first step had been accomplished!

With most of his fear evaporating, he seized the pitchfork by his side and dashed towards the trap.

The skinless monster's formidable tenacity had left an indelible impression on Lumian. Moreover, his quarry had a shotgun, so he refrained from exposing himself above the deep hole. Instead, he aimed the pitchfork from a distance and thrust it into the pit.

In a sudden turn of events, the pitchfork plunged and halted abruptly.

Immediately, an intense force reverberated through the pitchfork, yanking Lumian into the trap with brute force.

Caught off guard, Lumian tumbled forward.

He didn't bother inspecting the pit's bottom. Discarding the pitchfork, he spun around and lunged towards the still-standing wall.

Bang!

The impact hit Lumian like a freight train, knocking him off his feet.

Blood, with a distinct metallic taste, surged up in his throat.

With a thud, he hit the ground, tumbling a few times before he regained his footing.

In the same instant, he caught sight of the monstrous creature—part-human, part-beast—emerging from the deep pit.

It held a single-barreled shotgun in its hand, its body torn open, revealing a grotesque display of wounds. A sickening mixture of dark red and pale yellow liquid poured out, as its insides spilled out.

Despite being badly injured by Lumian's trap, the creature had not lost its ability to fight.

As it tumbled into the pit, it managed to contort its body just enough to avoid a fatal blow. The creature's legs and arms were also still functional, allowing it to break free from the trap.

Without a moment's hesitation, Lumian bolted for the ruins nearby.

It wasn't a spontaneous decision; he had a plan in mind.

He knew there was a chance the trap wouldn't completely incapacitate the monster, leaving it with enough strength to fight back.

In the event that the trap failed, Lumian's contingency plan was to use the environment to his advantage. He'd play a game of cat and mouse, buying time for the beast to succumb to its wounds. Its reaction time and strength would weaken considerably, and Lumian could strike when the opportunity presented itself.

Bang!

Another shot rang out, followed by the sound of soil splattering as leads appeared at the spot where Lumian had been standing.

He quickly took cover behind a half-collapsed wall and crawled on all fours to the other side of the ruins.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of wind blowing in the air.

The monster had jumped over.

Lumian swiftly pivoted and crawled back behind the half-collapsed wall through a gap.

He made the most of the special conditions of the collapsed buildings, hiding at times and circling around at others, dodging the monster's attacks without engaging in a direct fight.

Hide-and-seek was Lumian's forte, honed through past pranks where he used this innate ability to escape getting beaten up on the spot.

As the cat-and-mouse game continued, Lumian gradually found himself panting, while the monster's running speed, jumping height, strength, and reaction speed had clearly weakened.

Just a little longer, just a little longer. I still can't defeat it now…?Lumian retreated back to his previous location, leaning against the half-collapsed wall and trying to control his urge to immediately counterattack.

Bang!?Suddenly, he felt a massive blow to his back, sending him flying forward.

The half-collapsed wall and rocks behind him exploded into a million pieces, raining down around him as he crashed to the ground.

The monster hadn't chased after him, instead choosing to body-slam into the obstacles in its way.

The already shaky half-collapsed wall couldn't withstand the brunt of its full force and collapsed completely.

Crimson blood gushed out of the creature's wounds, pooling on the ground in a grotesque display.

Despite being caught off guard, Lumian's reflexes were quick. He rolled out of harm's way and sought cover behind a pile of rubble.

Bang!

The monster's shotgun blast missed him by a hair's breadth.

...

Having slammed into the wall, the monster struggled to regain its footing.

It fumbled with the cloth bag strapped to its waist, only to find it empty. With a snarl, it hurled the shotgun aside and lunged at Lumian.

Lumian had already darted to a new hiding spot for a continued game of cat-and-mouse.

Of course, he couldn't keep up this game forever. The monster might slip away if he waited too long, and the noise could attract others of its kind.

As he circled around the area, he noticed that the monster seemed to be slowing down.

Here's the chance!

With a quick decision, Lumian pretended to make an escape towards a collapsed building.

Once there, he stood firm, drew his axe from his back, and took a moment to catch his breath.

In a flash, the monster rounded the corner and stood in front of Lumian.

Without hesitation, Lumian raised his axe and charged forward.

He stepped towards the creature, turning his body sideways and lowering his shoulder. He planned to body-slam the monster, a move his sister had taught him, and then slash at its neck.

...

Bam!

Lumian took a step forward, leaning his body against the monster's chest, but the creature didn't budge. Lumian was surprised by its unyielding stance. He tried to push harder, but the monster remained like a thick wall.

What…?Lumian's heart tightened, and he bounced back. He was about to pounce to the ground and try to escape the monster's attack range.

In a flash, the monster lunged forward and clutched Lumian's neck in a death grip.

It didn't look like it was having trouble moving at all!

Lumian gasped in shock as he was hoisted into the air, his neck throbbing with pain.?Sacrebleu, I've been tricked!?he exclaimed, his mind reeling.

A creaking sound filled the air, and the world spun around him, making his head swim.

His axe had missed its target and was now knocked off to the side.

Lumian finally realized that he had been outsmarted by the monster.

Despite being in dire straits, the creature had enough strength to fight. It had cunningly faked weakness, luring him into attacking instead of staying hidden. Lumian had underestimated its combat intelligence, and now he found himself in a desperate situation.

The monster was clearly at the end of its rope, as evidenced by its inability to snap Lumian's neck. But this was just a temporary respite. The creature still had enough energy left to finish the job.

As his neck threatened to snap and his breathing grew more ragged, Lumian felt his mind begin to go blank.

Blank.

As Lumian teetered on the brink of death, the lady's words suddenly resurfaced in his mind.

She wanted him to use what's special about him in the dream.

Special trait…?His thoughts were nearly blank, and so he quickly seized the opportunity to meditate.

The red sun instantly appeared in his mind. Unlike his previous attempt at meditation to calm his emotions, where the sun disappeared as soon as it was formed, this time he focused on keeping it in existence. Suddenly, a voice from above, infinitely high, pierced his skull.

The pain was excruciating, and Lumian felt as though his heart might burst from his chest. He forgot about the monster's vice grip on his neck and the fact that he was struggling to breathe.

Suddenly, he fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

The strange sound that had accompanied his meditation disappeared, but the pain remained, almost unbearable. He was unable to take stock of his surroundings or even assess the damage done to his body.

After an unknown amount of time, the near-death sensation subsided.

Lumian didn't bother checking his neck; instead, he placed his hands on the ground and lifted his head.

The beast was squatting nearby, half-human and half-beast, with its head drooping and its arms outstretched in front of it.

Lumian noticed its wounds still seeping with blood mixed with a yellow liquid, and the creature's body quivered uncontrollably.

What's wrong with it? Was it scared silly by the "specialness" I displayed??He picked up his fallen axe and took a step towards the monster.

Without hesitation, he held the axe with both hands and swung it at the back of the beast's neck.

The axe sank deeply into the creature's muscles and came to a halt at its bones.

Lumian used all his strength to remove the axe, then continued his assault, slashing at the monster's neck once, twice, thrice. Finally, the beast's head detached from its body with a sickening splash, rolling to the side.

The body held on for a moment longer, barely clinging to life.

No resistance, just trembles.

And then, with a sudden jerk, Lumian's body contorted, his hands releasing their tight grip, letting the bloodied axe slide down with a sickening squelch.

Huff. Puff. Huff.?He could finally catch his breath.