38 COI

In the city of Trier, prosthetic eyes were not a common sight, but there were still a fair number of people who wore them. But Jenna and Franca had never seen anyone take mechanizing a quarter of their faces for a prosthetic eye to this extent.

However, when they recalled that the monk was suspected to be from the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery, it made sense. Fanatical devotion to machinery was their hallmark!

Carrying a carbide lamp and wearing a white apron like a stonemason, the monk entered the tunnel step by step. His emerald-green prosthetic eye, surrounded by gears and springs, seemed to possess a life of its own as it rotated left and right, scanning the surroundings.

Franca tugged at Jenna, signaling for her not to look towards the tunnel. She was to quickly avert her gaze to avoid detection.

The two of them slunk deeper into the shadows, hiding beyond the reach of the carbide lamp's light.

The gray-robed, hooded monk from the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery advanced slowly, surveying his surroundings as he approached the bottom of Deep Valley Quarry, the area that had collapsed and been buried.

Thanks to their Assassin abilities and the cover of darkness, Jenna and Franca remained undetected. They waited until the monk was far away before quietly peeking out from their hiding spot, eyes fixed on his back.

The monk stopped beside the collapsed area, extending his right palm which glinted with an iron-like metallic sheen, grasping a protrusion on the wall.

A grinding sound echoed as if multiple massive gears were slowly rotating and meshing.

The stone wall cracked open as metal chains extended out from behind each rock. The rocks bloomed like flowers, revealing a dark cave behind.

With the help of the monk's carbide lamp and their eagle-eyed Assassin vision, Franca and Jenna could see a thin white fog inside the cave and arms and legs embedded in the rock walls—human arms and legs!

Some were still fresh while others had shriveled, but there were no signs of decay.

Jenna and Franca exchanged shocked and fearful looks.

As the monk entered the cave and triggered a mechanism, the metal chains relaxed, allowing the rocks to return to their original positions, leaving only faint cracks as signs of the hidden entrance.

So that's how it is… I assumed the cracks were from a collapse, so I didn't inspect them… Franca realized why they hadn't noticed anything amiss before.

She tugged Jenna's arm and whispered, "Let's get out of here first and come back another time."

Having discovered the secret and knowing how to open it, there was no need to confront the monk from the God of Steam and Machinery Church directly. They could return later!

Jenna nodded slightly, twirled the Ring of Punishment on her finger, and crouched down. She followed Franca away from their hiding spot and back through the tunnel to the entrance of Deep Valley Quarry.

Seeing Jenna about to open the door, Franca quickly stopped her and whispered, "No hurry."

"Why?" Jenna asked, puzzled.

Franca straightened instinctively and smiled.

"Just because one monk went in doesn't mean he's alone. Perhaps there are two companions outside, guarding against intruders. If we stroll out casually, we might expose ourselves and get attacked! Besides, the gatekeeper could be awake already."

Jenna looked a little abashed. "You're right."

Franca consoled her immediately, "It's just experience. Now you know better for the future."

She took out a palm-sized mirror and handed it to Jenna. "Help me carry this. I'll scout ahead. If I get ambushed, take the chance to hide in the shadows by the door and sneak out with the mirror."

Realizing Franca intended to use Mirror Substitution, Jenna agreed without hesitation.

Franca carefully opened the heavy wooden door a crack and peeked out.

The only sounds were chirping insects and frogs. All was still otherwise.

The door opened wider and Franca slipped out into the darkness beyond the crimson moonlight's reach.

Jenna gripped the mirror tightly, tense and ready.

After more than ten seconds, Franca returned and whispered, "It's clear, let's go."

Jenna exhaled in relief and darted out, closing the door silently behind them.

As they left the quarry, they glanced at the rock-walled "hut" and saw the gatekeeper still asleep, but in a different posture.

From a distance, Franca noticed a red and swollen mark under his ear. "He was knocked out, not drugged…" she murmured with a frown.

Jenna recalled the cybernetic-eyed monk and pointed at the quarry door. "The one inside did it?"

Franca nodded gently. "Very likely. He doesn't want the gatekeeper to know he's here. Poor man, he probably fainted again before the sedative wore off."

Jenna smiled. "Or someone else knocked him out before we got here. Someone might have used some other method to knock him out."

"…" Franca paused, then sighed sympathetically. "If so, I feel bad for him."

Oblivious to each other, every group had dealt with the gatekeeper their own way. As a result, the poor man remained unconscious repeatedly.

Wasting no time, Jenna and Franca slipped away under the cover of the night.

…

Avenue du Marché, Salle de Bal Brise.

Lumian returned to the café upstairs, ordered a glass of red wine, and sipped it slowly.

After a while, Louis came up and whispered, "Boss, some bounty hunters are causing trouble at Salle de Gristmill, demanding a cut of the profits."

With the Poison Spur Mob's upper ranks destroyed, some remnants had been arrested, some had fled, some joined other mobs, and some found legitimate work. Their former businesses had been taken over at low prices by various factions.

The Savoie Mob got the largest share but now lacked manpower. Some industries operated fairly independently. Occasionally, opportunists tried to take advantage of the "power vacuum."

Lumian cracked his knuckles and grinned. "Send word asking if they want to be my enemies or my dogs."

He realized that after becoming a Pyromaniac, he had grown more aggressive. Itching for a fight after so long, his hands twitched in anticipation.

Furthermore, for someone to dare challenge a dance hall nominally belonging to the Savoie Mob, there might be one or two Beyonders among the bounty hunters. Lumian's Shadow Branch lacked a corresponding Beyonder characteristic.

"Yes, Boss!" Louis replied eagerly before hurrying downstairs to send the "invitation."

Lumian had planned to return to Auberge du Coq Doré to write Madam Magician but now waited patiently.

In less than half an hour, Louis returned with a man.

He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, wearing a cheap suit and black top hat. With brown hair, brown eyes, refined features, and a burly build, he could have been a protagonist at the Théatre de l'Ancienne Cage à Pigeons

Seeing Lumian, the man smiled, doffed his hat, and greeted, "Good evening, Boss."

"Who are you?" Lumian asked with an amiable smile.

The man replied solemnly, "Boss, didn't you ask me to be your dog?"

"…" Momentarily stunned, even the quick-witted Lumian needed a few seconds to respond.

He had said it purely to provoke them and see if they would retaliate.

After recovering, Lumian chuckled. "I told you to be a dog, and you'll really do it?"

"This is my big chance!" The man didn't seem ashamed at all, rather honored. "I believe following you will let me achieve my true worth. In time, I could even become your godson!"

How old are you? You're more fawning than "Giant" Simon… Interested, Lumian asked, "Why do you think I'll give you a chance?"

The man didn't answer immediately but glanced meaningfully at Louis and Sarkota, hinting for them to leave.

Unworried about assassination attempts, Lumian had them exit before smiling at the man. "Go on."

The man cleared his throat. "My name is Lugano Toscano, a Beyonder."

"Which pathway? What Sequence?" Lumian's eyebrows rose.

Lugano forced a smile. "I'm a Planter, Sequence 9."

Earth Mother Church's pathway? Lumian nodded thoughtfully. "From Feynapotter?"

"No, Riston Province," Lugano replied, smiling. "A few years ago, some friends and I became bounty hunters. I got to know a Feynapotter Beyonder and later acquired his belongings when he passed away."

A fellow countryman… Did you kill him or just conveniently profit from his death? Lumian gestured for him to continue.

Lugano chuckled. "I can now advance to Sequence 8 Doctor but lack funds for the potion ingredients. I've heard of your exploits, Boss, and believe you to be a powerful Beyonder. I also know the Savoie Mob lacks manpower, so I caused some trouble to meet you. I hope to work for you, help manage your estates, and earn money through hard work. Doctors are useful for ordinary people and Beyonders alike."

-x-X-x-

"Doctor?" Lumian recalled the two canisters of Healing Agent obtained from the Poison Spur Mob.

Their healing effects were quite impressive indeed.

Leaning back in his chair, Lumian gazed intently into Lugano Toscano's eyes, pondering silently for some time.

Gradually Lugano grew uneasy, his body tensing up.

Finally Lumian smiled.

"Salle de Gristmill isn't my property. I'm just managing it for the Boss.

"I'm not sure you can handle it, but I'll give you a chance."

Lugano visibly relaxed and smiled. "Boss, I won't let you down!"

Lumian raised his voice to call Louis over.

"From now on, you'll be Lugano's deputy at the Gristmill. Manage it together."

Is this for real? But why give an untested new recruit such an important post? Before Louis could react, Lumian had already turned to Lugano.

"You have two months. You and your friends will be the dance hall's protectors for now. Take a portion of the profits; negotiate the details with the manager."

He deliberately left the profit distribution vague, especially his own cut. He wanted to see what Lugano would do.

"Thank you, Boss!" Lugano's joy was unconcealed.

He nearly blurted out, "Once I'm a Doctor, I'll treat any illness or injury you have." But that felt like cursing misfortune upon Lumian, so he quickly sealed his lips.

Watching them leave while discussing the dance hall, Lumian's smile faded.

Lugano's fawning and zeal made him suspect ulterior motives, like him with Baron Brignais and the fake diamond necklace.

But Lumian had cowed the Baron by showing his might and madness. The key was proving the value of exploiting him. Lugano was more focused on ingratiation. Of course, he had revealed his usefulness too.

That's why Lumian decided to give him Salle de Gristmill for two months—to monitor any abnormalities and act quickly if the bounty hunter had hidden motives. Or gain a Doctor cheaply if he was clean.

Either way, it wouldn't cost Lumian anything. Salle de Gristmill belonged to the Savoie Mob; he would just lose some of his own share. That could be offset by Lugano stabilizing the unruly dance hall.

After sitting awhile, Lumian left for Room 207 at Auberge du Coq Doré. Drawing the curtains, he sat at the table and began writing.

"Esteemed Madam Magician,

"I've officially joined the Iron Blood Cross Order.

"The initiation ritual was…

"I'm puzzled. The Order has members clearly not from the Hunter pathway. How did they pass the vigil? Assassins? Or did Gardner confirm their trustworthiness some other way, bypassing corruption?"

He almost asked about entering 13 Avenue du Marché at special times, but that was surely monitored by official Beyonders. It was unlikely anyone could approach then.

After neatly folding the letter, Lumian summoned the doll messenger on the altar.

Wary, he asked, "Am I still being watched?"

"No," the doll slowly shook her head.

Relieved, Lumian scheduled reporting to Mr. K and heading to The Fool's cathedral for a sermon.

After nearly fifteen minutes, Madam Magician replied:

"I once heard from Mr. Fool's Oracle that a friend of his was originally in the Iron and Blood Cross Order but couldn't stand it and fled to sea.

"I didn't understand at first, but now I see—it's been hard on you."

It wasn't so bad. Watching them perform was rather interesting, a study in human diversity… Lumian didn't see an issue with it.

Something else concerned him more.

When mentioning the Oracle, Madam Magician didn't say "one of."

Lumian suspected Mr. Fool had only a single Oracle!

Meaning the Major Arcana card holders of the Divine Council weren't considered Oracles.

Pondering this, Lumian read on:

"They might be Assassins or used another corruption method.

"Remind the Two of Cups—if accepting the vigil, bring the ancient underground mirror. Other than keeping in mind not to respond, it's best to bring the ancient mirror that provides entry into the underground mirror world. Hunter/Demoness corruption likely differs. It may help."

That mirror… Mulling it over, Lumian swiftly burned the letter in crimson flames.

Just as he was about to wash up, he sensed something and glanced at the door.

A series of knocks promptly came.

"Who is it?" he called.

A strained voice answered, "Guess who I am."

Seated, Lumian looked helplessly at the bedbug-free ceiling. "Come in."

As expected, it was Franca and Jenna, dressed as Assassins.

"Here to play Fighting Evil?" he joked.

Franca scoffed, "I don't play cards with sore losers like you."

Having tricked many into drinking excessively over card games recently, Lumian had been winning at Fighting Evil with the ladies and mocking their poor skills. Suspecting cheating, Franca had intensely coached her dancers the past few days.

Entering, Franca added, "We're here to borrow mysticism magazines."

Lumian sneered. "Nice try. Why come so late just for that? Is waiting till morning not an option? Jenna doesn't seem the studying type."

He smiled. "What's really going on?"

The two gritted their teeth in sync.

After Franca shut the door, Jenna glanced around and whispered, "Are the walls too thin here? Could neighbors overhear us?"

Lumian smiled approvingly. "You're learning—thinking about eavesdroppers now. Not like before, blabbing recklessly without a care."

Before… Franca's suspicious gaze shifted from Jenna to Lumian, then from Lumian to Jenna.

"Dammit! "We didn't discuss anything important!" Jenna defended. "Why not mention Charlie? He spills secrets immediately."

Charlie? Franca's frown faded.

"It was fine—others were asleep or gone. That's why I didn't stop him." Lumian stood, ritual dagger in hand. Letting spirituality flow from the blade, he enveloped the room in a wall of spirituality.

The singing and rowdiness on the streets and the inn's noises instantly grew distant and muted.

Jenna was amazed. Franca pursed her lips and said to Jenna, "A basic wall of spirituality ritual. Once you become a Witch, you'll naturally master it."

At this point, she couldn't help but imagine what Witch Jenna would look like.

The two ladies sat side by side by Lumian's bed and discussed the missing Deep Valley Cloister gatekeeper, focused on their quarry findings tonight.

"What's down there? What should we do?" Franca returned Lumian's sedative.

Lumian smiled at his companion who wasn't wearing red boots. "Don't you have an answer already?"

With Franca's experience, she surely had a plan by now.

Franca smiled awkwardly. "Just wanted your thoughts."

"My thoughts?" Lumian joked, "Sneak in while the monk's away for that 20,000 verl d'or!"

Jenna looked around warily. "Meaning it's too dangerous to investigate further?"

Having heard Lumian's mockery countless times now, she could distinguish sarcasm, well-meaning teasing, and jokes.

"Right," said Franca. "Recalling the client, there seems to be an internal Deep Valley Cloister conflict—someone hiding, someone exposing. Meddling in an orthodox Church's internal conflict is dangerous for any Beyonder."

"Internal conflict?" Jenna was startled.

Lumian chuckled. "A missing gatekeeper, and some random person offers 20,000 to find him, even just the corpse? And said corpse needs to be carried to the Deep Valley Cloister. Clearly wants someone to see it."

Jenna was almost convinced, but she still had a lot of doubts. "B-but the limbs in the cave seem too sinister for an orthodox Church."

-x-X-x-

"Er…" Franca deliberated briefly before telling Jenna, "When it comes to losing control and madness, orthodox or wild Beyonder—all are equal. Those monks can become monsters too, or have mental problems and walk the abyss."

Jenna grew grave as she listened.

It wasn't the first time Franca had said something similar, but without personal experience, the full cruelty and horror of those words never quite sunk in. Seeing the limbs in the dark cave had driven home the visceral reality of losing control and madness.

Lumian added meaningfully, "That's why the acting method is so important."

"But never forget you're only acting. You should know very well being a theater actress—you mustn't lose yourself in a role. Even without being a Beyonder, that path leads to mental issues." Franca and Lumian educated the newcomer one after another.

Jenna nodded solemnly.

Franca returned to the missing gatekeeper. "My plan is this—reveal the cave anonymously to the Eternal Blazing Sun Church via my sources. How they handle it is their affair. Even if they suppress it, they'll be vigilant against trouble now. I'll also inform the client and see his reaction. We might get paid for our work."

She chose the Eternal Blazing Sun Church over the God of Steam and Machinery Church Beyonders, unsure which side was trustworthy in this internal conflict.

"No objections here," Jenna conceded after hearing their advice, shelving her longing for the 20,000 verl d'or reward.

Franca turned to Lumian. "I've found a buyer for Harvest Sacrifice, but the deal isn't finalized yet. Offer is 10,000 verl d'or. I gave you 4,000 already, and can give you another 1,000 in two days."

"Very efficient." Lumian smiled approvingly.

"Can't tell if that's praise or mockery," Franca muttered.

Jenna listened enviously. 10,000 verl d'or was casual business for them, while her family struggled to pay 7,000-8,000 for the treatment of her mother.

This is what it means to be a Beyonder… Her understanding grew clearer.

Glancing at the curtains, Lumian didn't get Jenna to leave. "Last night, I completed the test and officially joined the Boss's inner circle."

"What kind of test?" Still aggrieved, Franca had already vented her anger once, leaving mostly curiosity.

Lumian described Gardner's late visit to Salle de Bal Brise, how he was requested to stay the night at 13 Avenue du Marché, and him overcoming the abnormal corruption until sunrise.

He concealed Termiboros, portraying himself as intelligent, decisive, perceptive and steadfast—grasping the crux with just a few details and adhering to the principle of no response despite the influences.

Lumian excelled at fabrication.

Franca still felt lingering fear and suspicion. "You really didn't waver at all?"

Jenna agreed—she would have responded the moment the door opened. Franca might have lasted until her face bled.

Lumian chuckled. "I definitely felt some uncertainty, but I trusted my judgment more."

Franca sized him up doubtfully. "You really thought of not responding by yourself?"

"No." Lumian ended the fiction honestly.

"…" The ladies were stunned.

Lumian seized the chance to divert attention, smiling. "Don't be daft. A recently graduated mysticism novice like me could never think of that. I got intelligence beforehand of course. If you do the vigil, remember—do not respond, and take the mirror that provides entry into the underground mirror world. 13 Avenue du Marché's abnormalities may differ by pathway."

Enlightened, Franca grasped his source. She muttered, "No girlfriend for you with that attitude!"

She had almost been provoked just now, let alone a real woman. Relieved, Franca thought the rascal Ciel had no romantic prospects currently.

While still irked by the mockery, Jenna also regained confidence.

She had thought her intelligence irredeemably inferior to Ciel's.

Admirably, he had firmly trusted the intelligence and not wavered.

She pursed her lips and said, "I'm seeing more of the mysticism world's horrors."

The 13 Avenue du Marché abnormality was even more terrifying than the Deep Valley Quarry's secret cave scene. By comparison, her underground ordeal with Hedsey seemed just a criminal case.

"There will be more such occurrences in the coming years." Franca seized every chance to motivate Jenna's advancement.

Lumian then mentioned his guess that Avenue du Marché 13 only affected Beyonders of the Hunter and Demoness pathways at specific times.

Discussing a while longer, the ladies left with a stack of mysticism magazines, returning to Rue des Blouses Blanches.

…

At 3 p.m. the next day, Lumian, who had been playing the part at Salle de Bal Brise all day, arrived at Lavigny Docks in the square district by taking multiple public carriages, ready to hear The Fool bishop's sermon.

It was a lively inland river port, teeming with steam ships emitting white fog. Countless dockworkers used various tools and their strength to move crates of goods and stack them on flat surfaces along the tracks.

Massive machines towered over the docks, some standing more than ten to twenty meters tall, made entirely of steel components. Operated by massive steam engines and controlled by technicians, they effortlessly lifted steel crates that would be impossible for humans to move.

Lumian observed the chaotic and bustling scene, a mix of spectacular sights and grimy realities.

He strolled around the dock, acting like a carefree tourist rather than inquiring about The Fool cathedral's location from suspicious foreigners.

Buildings surrounded the harbor, housing bars, motels, warehouses, beer houses, cafés, restaurants, and dance halls. Street vendors loudly peddled their goods along the paths.

Lumian also noticed frosted glass windows with green shutters, indicating licensed brothels.

After taking a long detour, Lumian finally arrived at Mr. Fool's cathedral.

It looked like an ordinary four-story house with a bell tower and pointed roof, completely black. Engraved on the outer wall was the familiar mystical symbol: Mr. Fool's symbol, a silvery-white symbol composed of an incomplete Pupil-less Eye and a portion of Contorted Lines.

Before entering, Lumian took his time, continuing to explore the area as if he were casually shopping.

As a Hunter, it was second nature for him to assess his surroundings when he had the chance.

After walking for a while, Lumian chose a bar called Sea Breeze to gather information about The Fool cathedral from merchants, sailors, and locals.

The interior of Sea Breeze was decorated like a cabin, with taxidermied fish, rudders, and sail fragments adorning the walls. The air was thick with the scent of liquor and cheap cosmetics.

Some sailors sat together, engrossed in a card game, while others were seen in the company of street girls. At the bar counter, a few were enjoying drinks and boasting.

Lumian scanned the area and noticed a man who immediately caught his attention.

This man sat in an armchair near the bar, exuding an air of arrogance as he casually rested his hands on the chair's back. He occasionally sipped his wheat beer, propping his legs up on the small round table.

It wasn't just the man's demeanor that intrigued Lumian, but the way the other sailors behaved around him.

They either kept their distance, giving the area a wide berth, or approached with deferential expressions. Even if they were teased by the man, they seemed honored to be in his presence.

A significant figure from the sea, perhaps? Lumian speculated silently as he subtly studied the man.

The man appeared to be in his thirties, dressed in a linen shirt, a brown vest, dark brown pants, and sturdy black leather boots. His eyebrows and hair were charred yellow, like they had been kissed by flames. His bright, dark blue eyes and facial features hinted at a southern Intis heritage.

Feeling Lumian's gaze on him, the man smiled and lifted his wheat beer in a toast.

Returning the smile, Lumian made his way to the bar counter, ordering a glass of Lanti Proof, a favorite among pirates and sailors.

Taking a sip of the flavorful and potent malt liquor, Lumian couldn't contain his curiosity. He nodded towards the nearby armchair and asked the bartender in a hushed tone,

"Who is that?"

The bartender's expression turned serious as he responded in a deep voice, "You don't know him?"

To him, not recognizing that individual was rather surprising.

-x-X-x-

Lumian set his glass down and flashed a smile, speaking in Intisian but with the accent of the Riston Province.

"I arrived in Trier just two days ago. Came to Lavigne in search of work."

Thanks to Aurore's help, he could speak like a local from Trier, shedding his Riston Province Dariège accent. Having spent six years in Cordu, he had a knack for learning, imitating, and adapting to new dialects effortlessly.

The tired bartender looked around as if he hadn't slept well and spoke cautiously, "That's the famous Blazing Danitz, a significant figure at sea!"

"I've never heard of him," Lumian replied bluntly.

The bartender cleared his throat, reminding Lumian to watch his tone and attitude.

"Have you heard about the six Pirate Kings and nine Pirate Admirals?"

"A little," Lumian honestly admitted.

His knowledge about the Pirate Kings and Pirate Admirals came from newspapers and adventure novels, and he was aware of Gehrman Sparrow hunting down a few. He knew that the great adventurer's servant, Dubois, had once served as a pirate on Vice Admiral Iceberg's ship. He knew of Ailment Maiden or Vice Admiral Ailment, and the frequent change of Pirate Admirals. As for the Pirate Kings, they were well-established and had held their positions for so long that no one could remember when they first came to power.

Realizing Lumian wasn't completely ignorant, the bartender breathed a sigh of relief.

"That individual used to be a pirate, acknowledged to be stronger than all the Pirate Admirals, second only to the six Pirate Kings."

Quite impressive… Lumian couldn't determine the exact Sequences of the Pirate Admirals and Pirate Kings, but their survival despite constant pursuit by the authorities showed they weren't weak.

Blazing Danitz ranked seventh among the pirates, almost reaching the level of a quasi-Pirate King. He was undeniably formidable!

A Saint? If he's one, the same can be said for the Pirate Kings… The strongest among Sequence 5s? Lumian quickly grasped the bartender's words.

"Used to be?"

"Yes, used to be. He's no longer a pirate or a Treasure Hunter. Look, there's no wanted poster of him on the wall." The bartender gestured around.

But there's my wanted poster… Thankfully, the bounty is low. It's tucked away in a corner where no one pays attention… Lumian asked curiously, "He can just stop being a pirate because he wants to? Did the authorities cooperate and revoke his wanted poster?"

Which country or orthodox Church did he surrender to?

The bartender lowered his voice even further.

"He's now a member of the Church of The Fool, the envoy of that deity."

Mr. Fool's Oracle? Perhaps that one and only Oracle? Lumian was taken aback.

The bartender assumed Lumian wasn't familiar with the Church of The Fool, so he explained, "That's a deity recognized by all orthodox Churches. Heh heh, why would a deity choose such a name?

"The Fool's faith is very popular at sea. Many sea merchants and sailors believe in Him. They even pooled money to build The Fool cathedral in Lavigny."

"The cathedral's bishop is that Oracle?" Lumian deliberately lowered his voice.

"No." The bartender shook his head. "But Blazing Danitz often comes to Trier. He likes it here. Yes, he's from Intis. There isn't an Intisian who doesn't long for Trier."

Just as Lumian was about to say something, the important figure at sea, the Oracle of The Fool's Church, Blazing Danitz, finished his remaining wheat beer and stood up, heading towards Sea Breeze's entrance.

Almost simultaneously, the sailors—playing cards, drinking, boasting, and making out with street girls—stood up in an unusually orderly fashion.

They didn't cause any commotion as they silently and orderly followed Blazing Danitz out of the bar.

If he hadn't witnessed this scene, Lumian wouldn't have realized that all the sailors in the bar were subordinates of The Fool's Oracle.

Blazing Danitz… From his nickname, he deals with fire… Could he also be from the Hunter pathway? Lumian sipped his Lanti Proof and chatted with the bartender about the Church of The Fool.

"What kind of deity is The Fool?"

The bartender gestured a triangular Sacred Emblem on his chest and shook his head.

"I'm not a follower, so how would I know?"

"By steam!" Lumian drew a triangular Sacred Emblem on his chest as well.

The bartender glanced at the empty area and said, "But the Church of The Fool isn't bad. Even if you're just a tramp, even if you don't believe in The Fool, you can still receive communion after entering their cathedral.

"If you ask them for help, you might even get a meal with meat and bread and a room to sleep in."

"Should I join the queue now?" Lumian asked with a smile.

The bartender shook his head again.

"No need. They can't leave the cathedral to preach or proselytize. Only the local tramps know they can seek help there, but they only go once in a while because the Church of The Fool is more willing to offer job opportunities to them."

After a pleasant chat and having figured out the schedule of The Fool's cathedral's bishop sermons, Lumian finished his Lanti Proof and decided to make the most of the spare time by exploring the nearby streets in detail.

He soon noticed that several strategic points were guarded by the military, armed with cannons and massive firearms that required water-cooling.

The government's distrust of these sailors and merchants, who occasionally indulge in piracy around the docks, is evident… Lumian turned away and hurried towards The Fool's cathedral before darkness fell.

The cathedral had a simple layout, devoid of gold embellishments or intricate machinery. The most remarkable aspect was its numerous windows, allowing natural light to illuminate the interior without the need for candles and gas lamps even before nightfall.

Like many religious spaces, the walls were adorned with giant murals, although the colors were muted and somber.

Using the fading light of dusk, Lumian examined the mural's contents and discovered that it depicted a wilderness where humans struggled to navigate.

These humans were unusually tall, almost resembling legendary giants. Some had three eyes, while others lacked noses, leaving only two dark holes. They looked more like monsters than ordinary people.

Despite the pain and despair evident on their faces, their eyes shimmered with hope.

Leading these peculiar humans were several distinct and detailed guides. Some had gray hair and carried two swords on their backs. Others wielded dark-blue sledgehammers emitting a sun-like glow. There were also figures clad in dark black armor with silver-gray curly hair…

At the forefront of these guides stood a figure.

Dressed in a black trench coat and a half top hat, the figure walked with a straight back, holding a lantern.

Just ahead of the figure was a ball of light—the altar of The Fool's cathedral—a silver-white Sacred Emblem emitting a radiant glow under the sunlight.

Lumian's attention was drawn to a few stained glass panes. Sculpted in an exaggerated style, angels and saints adorned them. Some were also featured in the murals, while others were not. There were angels with wings and halos, and saints with only halos.

Lumian carefully circled the area, observing for over half an hour. Eventually, he found a seat and settled in to wait for the 6 p.m. sermon.

As time passed, many people entered the cathedral. Some were dressed as merchants, others as typical sailors. There were also dockworkers, visibly exhausted after a long day's work, and a few street girls as well.

Amidst the tolling of the bell, the bishop arrived at the altar.

His hair and eyes shone with a golden hue. Towering at 2.56 meters tall, he donned a finely tailored black trench coat and a half top hat, hardly resembling a typical clergyman.

With a hearty gesture, the boorish bishop pressed his hand to his chest and called out in a booming voice, "Praise The Fool!"

"Praise The Fool!" echoed the gathered believers, and Lumian enthusiastically joined in.

Flipping through the black-and-silver-patterned bible in his hand, the bishop spoke with a voice that reverberated through the cathedral,

"Our lord is known as The Fool. Across past, present, and future, he reigns supreme over the spirit world. He is also the King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck. A beacon for all in the pursuit of eternity…

"He is compassionate, benevolent, and the savior of this world. He allows us to address him as him instead of Him…

"Our lord resides above both reality and the spirit world. His benevolence extends to Heaven and the land. Beside him stand eight angels…

"The Angel of Mercury is the embodiment of fate, our Lord's most cherished angel. The Angel of Death has followed our Lord for the longest period of time and is the consul of the Underworld. The Angel of Redemption is our Lord's bugle, once taking on the form of Gehrman Sparrow to deliver his revelations. The Angel of Life is the crystallization of wisdom itself, the indestructible spirituality that resides in everyone's body."

Gehrman Sparrow? That adventurer is an angel of Mr. Fool? Lumian was astonished by the revelation.

The giant bishop continued, "There's also the Angel of Retribution beside the Lord's throne. He is the Lord's lightning, the Lord's rage, and the Lord's palm, the judge of all the fallen and the ones who aren't chaste.

"Next to the Angel of Retribution is the Angel of the Holy Spirit, reigning over all spirits and representing our lord in controlling the spirit world.

"In contrast to Them, there are the Angel of Time and the Angel of Stars.

"The Angel of Time was an angel of ancient times. He eventually submitted to our Lord and now strikes the bell of Heaven.

"The Angel of Stars is a witness, a recorder, the eyes and ears of our lord…"

Lumian listened attentively, finding it hard to believe that there were eight angels by The Fool's divine throne.

Wasn't this strength too terrifying?

It seemed no different from an orthodox Church!

Suddenly, Termiboros's magnificent voice resounded, "Do you believe it?"

"Why not?" Lumian replied in a hushed tone, as if reciting passages from the bible.

After all, whose bible, even among the orthodox Churches, didn't have a touch of exaggeration?

Even without embellishments, it was still impressive!

-x-X-x-

Termiboros fell silent.

Lumian continued to listen intently to the bishop's sermon as he recounted the general situation of the Church of The Fool. He discovered that there existed another continent in this world called the Forsaken Land of the Gods—a place cursed and abandoned by the gods Themselves.

Despite the gods turning their backs on the continent, Mr. Fool refused to forsake it. He dispatched the Angel of Redemption—Gehrman Sparrow—to lead the surviving humans from the lost city-states out of the Forsaken Land of the Gods and guide them in rebuilding their homes on the maritime islands.

Consequently, the Church of The Fool's headquarters were established in the New City of Silver in the Sonia Sea.

The other two Holy Lands, New Moon City and Bayam, the capital of the Rorsted Archipelago, were also located in the same area.

Lumian listened with fascination, gaining a fundamental understanding of the Church of The Fool.

Following the sermon, the bishop and a few priests distributed communion.

It consisted of a glass of transparent, colorless liquid and a large fruit shell with charred marks covering it.

Lumian picked up the glass and took a sip. The liquid had a slight sweetness, reminiscent of dairy products but with a more fragrant essence.

Next, he used a wooden spoon to scoop out the food from the huge fruit shell.

As soon as he tasted the food, Lumian's expression turned surprised.

It's meat!

Isn't this a bit extravagant?

Even the Eternal Blazing Sun Church's Communion couldn't compare to this. They only had red wine and unfermented flatbread.

Lumian perked up and chewed the food with interest. It was delicious, with a meaty texture and a mix of sweetness and slight sourness, like that of a fruit. Its aroma was entirely different from the usual dishes found in Trier.

While he ate, he listened to the bishop explain the origins of Communion.

It turned out that this was Angel of Redemption Gehrman Sparrow's favorite food during his travels across the land. As the bugle of the Lord, he preached the revelations of the Lord.

The liquid was called Teana, derived from a giant fruit unique to the Rorsted Archipelago, and it was extracted from the pulp.

Having lost most of its pulp, the Teana rind was stuffed with mashed mutton and fish, culminating in the communion, Teativa.

However, transporting such massive fruits from the Rorsted Archipelago to Trier for Communion was impractical. It required crossing three seas, and no matter how unripened the fruit was, it would inevitably rot, wasting valuable resources.

With the help of a particular botanist, the Church of The Fool had cultivated a modified Teana tree that could grow in southern Intis, producing a stronger milky scent.

A delicacy with a maritime charm… If it weren't for the Church of The Fool's inability to preach and proselytize, who knows how many people would convert solely due to the Communion… But that could lead to financial issues as well. Too many believers in The Fool would cause the expenses of Communion to skyrocket… After pondering the Church of The Fool's finances for a moment, Lumian, who hadn't eaten dinner yet, finished the Teativa clean and gulped down the Teana juice.

"Praise The Fool!" Lumian stood up sincerely and bowed. He slowly left the candlelit cathedral and stepped into the night.

Under the warm glow of gas street lamps, Lumian strolled along the port area, dressed in a linen shirt, black vest, and rolled-up sleeves. His destination was the other side of the docks, where he intended to catch a public carriage to Avenue du Boulevard.

Lavigny had grown quiet, with only occasional groups of sailors passing by, singing or shouting.

All of a sudden, a commotion erupted nearby, followed by a piercing scream.

As the sound echoed through the night, Lumian noticed a figure hurtling towards him at an incredible speed.

Casually, he sidestepped, acting like an innocent bystander.

Yet, if the approaching person happened to be vile or had indeed committed some wrongdoing and was now being chased, Lumian wouldn't mind sticking out his right foot and tripping them, just for the spectacle.

Within seconds, the figure reached the edge of the street lamp's glow, making Lumian's eyebrows twitch in surprise.

So fast!

Clearly not an ordinary human!

With the help of the gas lamps, Lumian got a good look at the figure's appearance.

It wasn't human—it was a monster!

Though its wrinkled head resembled a human's, its dark-green scales covered its body. Wearing a torn linen shirt and brown pants, its feet lacked shoes, and thin, tough skin membrane grew between its fingers. Slippery dark green mucus oozed over its form, and its palms and mouth were stained with blood.

Having encountered numerous monsters in Cordu's ruins, Lumian remained unperturbed. He only frowned slightly.

It reminds me of those murlocs mentioned in mysticism magazines. Those dark-green scales must provide formidable defense…

As Lumian pondered, the monster noticed him sidestepping and grew more violent and crazed in its expression.

Without warning, it lunged at Lumian.

Reacting swiftly, Lumian arched his body, not backing away, but stepping forward to face the suspected murloc.

Bang!

His right hand, emitting sparks, struck the creature's abdomen.

Then, he swiftly lowered his body, slipping under the armpit of the dark-green-scaled monster, avoiding its counterattack and effectively positioning himself behind the assailant.

Lumian spun around, his arms swinging. His fists, with flickering flames, delivered powerful blows to the back of the suspected murloc, knocking it to the ground.

Blows resounded until Lumian withdrew his hands, ceasing his assault. He observed silently as the struggling body left corrosive marks on the ground.

With a muffled explosion, crimson sparks erupted from the monster's eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. Its body swelled before collapsing, shedding several dark-green scales.

After a few convulsions, it lay still.

Lumian averted his gaze and looked towards the figures chasing after him. He nonchalantly flicked his hands, alleviating the corrosive pain caused by the dark-green liquid.

His injuries were minor. After all, he had delivered a barrage of powerful punches, and his contact with the dark-green scales and viscous liquid had been brief.

Soon, the figures reached the lamp pole.

They were sailors, led by a mixed-blood man from the Southern Continent, sporting braided hair and brownish-red skin.

He appeared to be in his thirties, with thick lips. His eyes first scanned the murloc-like monster lying motionless on the ground, then he looked at Lumian with surprise, suspicion, and fear.

After a few seconds of silence, the sailor with the braided hair spoke with a solemn voice, "This is the murloc we captured at sea. It injured one of our crewmates and managed to escape."

It is indeed a murloc… Did they truly capture it? Why didn't they turn it into various materials and transport it to Trier? Why risk keeping it alive? Lumian silently mused as he asked with a smile, "Are you planning to apologize on its behalf and compensate me for my mental distress to soothe my terrified mind?"

The sailor and his companions exchanged glances, unable to decipher the lad's true intentions.

In the distance, the sound of regimental-like running resonated, accompanied by gunfire.

Patrol soldiers had rushed over upon hearing the scream.

The sailor's heart tightened as he unconsciously grabbed the monster's corpse, closely observing Lumian's reaction. He intended to stop once the other party showed any dissatisfaction.

Simultaneously, he continued, "No problem. We have no problem."

What he meant was that they would provide compensation for Lumian's mental distress.

Lumian sensed that they mainly wanted the Beyonder characteristic produced by the murloc, but the monster was too weak. He wasn't in the mood to discuss how the prize would be divided with them.

It was not worthy of the Shadow Branch at all!

If these individuals, who acted recklessly without concern for covering their tracks, managed to evade pursuit and crossed paths with him again, he could simply demand compensation from them for his mental distress.

As Lumian watched the sailors carry the murloc away, he continued on his way as if nothing had happened.

Before long, several patrolling soldiers caught up with him, examining his condition and inquiring if he had witnessed anything unusual.

Lumian candidly pointed in the direction the sailors had fled.

"I heard a scream and saw a group of people running that way. They were dressed like sailors."

The officer leading the patrol nodded approvingly.

"Thank you for your cooperation."

"No need to thank me. It's what any responsible citizen should do," Lumian replied with a smile.

Soon, the other soldiers discovered traces of corrosion and scales on the ground, along with sticky liquid that hadn't entirely evaporated. They followed the trail towards the docks.

Lumian clicked his tongue and continued on his way towards the public carriage stop.

Clap! Clap! Clap! He heard a soft applause.

Feeling uneasy, Lumian turned his head and saw someone sitting on a nearby cargo box, seemingly having appeared out of nowhere.

The man's eyebrows were charred yellow, and his hair shared the same color. His eyes were dark blue yet radiant. He wore a linen shirt, a brown vest, and a pair of black leather boots hung from his dark brown pants.

Lumian recognized the man and felt alarmed.

Blazing Danitz, a great pirate second only to a few Pirate Kings!

But Lumian calmed down when he recalled the man's other identity: He was no longer a pirate; he was now Mr. Fool's Oracle!

As the holder of a Minor Arcana card, Lumian believed that as long as he revealed his identity, Blazing Danitz wouldn't give him trouble.

Blazing Danitz gazed at Lumian for a few seconds before effortlessly leaping down from the top of the wooden crates.

He chuckled and spoke leisurely, "To be able to swiftly choose the most effective, targeted, and efficient attack method against your prey, perfectly evading the enemy's enhanced scale defense—your combat intelligence is quite impressive. I admire it.

"So, how about it? Are you interested in joining my team and becoming my subordinate?"

-x-X-x-

Inviting me to join your team without even checking my background or confirming my strength? Are you that confident, Mr. Fool's Oracle? Lumian couldn't help but criticize, feeling unsure about the whole situation.

He looked at Blazing Danitz and responded with a smile, "No."

Blazing Danitz acknowledged tersely, his voice gaining intensity as if confirming it for the last time.

Lumian slipped his right hand into his pocket, maintaining his smile.

"Not interested."

What a joke. How can I complete the Tarot Club's mission if I join your team?

This requires your consultation with Madam Magician!

Danitz's dark-blue yet bright eyes narrowed slightly, his aura instantly becoming more intense.

Lumian felt as if he were facing a spear or a loaded gun pressed to his forehead. Fear and danger washed over him.

However, he didn't look away and met Blazing Danitz's gaze with a calm determination, as if facing an apex predator.

After a brief silence that filled the air with tension, Blazing Danitz broke into a smile.

"Not bad. You're quite resolute and bold. I admire you even more."

With those words, the former great pirate, now The Fool's Oracle, turned around and strolled towards the well-lit street in the distance.

Confidence naturally breeds resoluteness… Lumian thought silently as he withdrew his right hand from his pocket, revealing a tarot card held between his thumb and index finger.

The tarot card—Seven of Wands!

Though he couldn't fathom Blazing Danitz's impromptu recruitment, he felt somewhat glad to have encountered Mr. Fool's Oracle.

This meant that The Fool Church held substantial strength in Trier.

…

After leaving Lavigny Docks, Lumian hopped onto a public carriage and soon arrived at Avenue du Boulevard. He walked to 19 Rue Scheer and met Mr. K beneath the headquarters of the Psychic organization.

The Aurora Order Oracle remained seated in the red armchair, his face concealed in the deep shadows of his black hood.

His voice rasped as he inquired, "How's your progress in gaining Gardner Martin's trust?"

Lumian replied calmly, "I've already joined the Iron and Blood Cross Order."

Mr. K fell silent for a moment before asking, "How did you gain Gardner Martin's trust? How did he test you? And how did you pass the test?"

The Aurora Order Oracle altered his usual demeanor, posing three questions at once.

Lumian chuckled.

"Well, there was no need to gain Gardner Martin's trust. Simply joining the Iron and Blood Cross Order earned loyalty."

Upon hearing this, Mr. K, who had been reclining in his chair, sat up straight. The shadows in the basement seemed to stir, almost alive.

With his expertise and knowledge, discerning the hidden meaning behind Lumian's words wasn't difficult for him.

And it undoubtedly spelled danger: Lumian had indeed become a member of the Iron and Blood Cross Order, pledging his allegiance to them. He was here to report while bringing the powerful figures of the Iron and Blood Cross Order!

Lumian smiled, unfazed by the immense pressure radiating from Mr. K. He proceeded to recount how he informed Gardner Martin that he had become a Sequence 7 Pyromaniac, leading up to the vigil at 13 Avenue du Marché and the formal initiation ceremony.

He didn't hold back the fact that he had engaged in an underground transaction and fled in terror after encountering Supervisor Olson's monstrous creation.

As Lumian finished, Mr. K stood up, excitement in his tone as he verified Lumian's various details at 13 Avenue du Marché repeatedly.

Upon realizing that Lumian had used the honorific name at a crucial moment and received a divine revelation of "don't respond," Mr. K burst into a fit of maniacal laughter.

"Hahaha, hahaha, just as I thought, piousness is the only way out!"

The hooded Oracle's laughter grew wilder, echoing through the basement, making Lumian's eardrums tremble and a faint scent of salt and blood fill the air.

"Hahaha! Hahaha!"

Mr. K laughed so hard he nearly doubled over.

He no longer concealed his condition. The whole basement seemed enveloped in darkness, and he stood as the source of danger behind it all.

After a while, Mr. K paid no mind to Lumian's presence, instead kneeling down, lowering his body to pray almost silently, as if thanking the Lord that created everything, the omnipotent and omniscient God.

Lumian managed to keep his lips from twitching. Before leaving for Lavigny Docks, he had performed a ritual, praying to The Fool for the angel's protection. He praised the True Creator of the Aurora Order and drew a cross on his chest, following an up-to-down, left-to-right order.

With a sudden display of piousness, Mr. K stood up and said with fervor, "This was all arranged by the Lord. He brought you here to join us."

It depends on which lord you're talking about… Lumian muttered, finding amusement in the situation, and replied humbly, "What He says will come true."

This was one of the religious texts of the Aurora Order taught by Mr. K. Lumian had always regarded it as a sermon praising the deity's strength. He found it quite useful in the present conversation.

The hooded Mr. K nodded, thoroughly satisfied.

"I had arranged for others to approach the exposed members of the Iron and Blood Cross Order before, but they lost contact with me and stopped reporting. They even put me in considerable danger.

"Now I understand why they failed. Their lack of piousness! In the face of danger and corruption, they didn't even think to recite our Lord's honorific name and seek His protection!

"But you, at the critical moment, had only my Lord in your mind. That's the kind of piousness I admire the most.

"That's why you successfully joined the Iron and Blood Cross Order without being corrupted!"

With only faith in a deity left in your mind… Will this affect your intelligence? Lumian observed Mr. K, gaining a deeper understanding of his state of mind and way of thinking.

Mr. K paced back and forth in front of Lumian, his excitement palpable in his voice.

"Based on the information you brought back, I now have a better understanding of the Iron and Blood Cross Order's problems. I have a new insight into their current situation and their intentions.

"I can say you've completed half of the mission I assigned you. Next, you need to investigate the source of the abnormality, the exact timeline, and their roadmap for inciting the riot.

"If they find a way to enter Fourth Epoch Trier or a passageway, you must inform me immediately. Don't let them succeed."

Mr. K pondered for a few seconds and said, "The first option is to take out my finger and ignite it. As long as the environment isn't special, I can sense it and roughly understand the cause.

"If that doesn't work, pray to my Lord immediately, just like this time."

"Alright," Lumian agreed.

When the time came, he might have to try contacting Madam Magician. It seemed like he would be very busy.

After assigning the subsequent mission, Mr. K looked at Lumian in a friendly tone and asked,

"Since you've completed half of the mission and brought back crucial information, I can't be stingy with the rewards. Tell me, what do you want?"

"I want a mystical item of bizarre nature. If you don't have it, a corresponding Beyonder characteristic will do. I'll find an Artisan to craft it myself," Lumian answered without hesitation.

Mr. K let out a chuckle.

"You deserve that. Come back in three days. I'll give you a few choices, or I'll offer what I think suits you best."

"Thank you, Mr. K," Lumian expressed his sincere gratitude.

This was much more generous than what the Iron and Blood Cross Order offered!

"It's not me you should be thanking, but the Lord," Mr. K replied with a smile.

Helpless, Lumian drew the cross again.

"Praise be to you, the creator of all things. Praise be to you, who carries the burdens of the world's sins."

Mr. K chimed in, praising the True Creator.

"Unfortunately, our Aurora Order doesn't have things like godfathers or godchildren. Otherwise, I'd be more than willing to baptize you again."

Why do so many people express their admiration by wanting to be someone else's father? Lumian found it amusing.

…

In high spirits after Mr. K's assurance, Lumian made his way back to Auberge du Coq Doré. He headed straight to the basement bar and ordered a glass of the unique textured distilled lemon liquor. As he chatted with the others, he found amusement in Charlie's return, spreading all sorts of rumors.

Meanwhile, intermittent singing and clapping rhythms filled the air, creating a lively atmosphere that lasted until the early hours of the morning. When the customers, who had to work at dawn, finally departed to their residences, the bar quieted down.

Lumian realized he had been spending too many nights at Auberge du Coq Doré lately, neglecting his sleep at Salle de Bal Brise. He decided it was time to balance things out and head there next.

As he left Auberge du Coq Doré and walked along Rue Anarchie, where there were no gas street lamps, he noticed a figure emerging from the dark shadows ahead.

The person was almost as tall as Lumian, with broad shoulders and a muscular build, dressed in a linen shirt, a brown jacket, and a brownish-yellow wide-brimmed hat.

Gray hair adorned their head, and dark eyes stared intently. The man's hairy skin added to his rugged appearance, giving off a wild sense of beauty.

Having halted Lumian, the man, whose age was difficult to gauge from his appearance, lifted his chin slightly and inquired, "Are you Ciel Dubois?"

Do you truly think yourself worthy of addressing me by my name? Lumian contemplated responding in a similar manner, uncertain of the man's intentions, and sensing a hint of arrogance. Thus, he chose to pretend.

He asked cautiously, "And who might you be?"

The man remained composed, showing no signs of being affected. With a cold expression, he pressed on, "Tell me who the boss of your Savoie Mob is."

-x-X-x-

You don't even know who's running the show for our Savoie Mob? And you're coming to me with this question? You must be clueless about the real deal. Our Boss is the Commanding Officer of the secret organization called the Iron and Blood Cross Order, and we're just a small part of the whole setup, Lumian thought, sliding his right hand into his pocket.

He quickly considered three possibilities.

First, Gardner Martin used the Savoie Mob for his secret missions, like smuggling some bizarre stuff through "Rat" Christo. Having been detected by someone or some faction, they now wanted to dig into the mob and expose the mastermind behind it.

Second, some members of the Savoie Mob must have offended the wrong people, and now the consequences were knocking at their door.

Third, after the Poison Spur Mob got wiped out, the Savoie Mob expanded rapidly, attracting attention from certain factions.

Lumian quickly dismissed the first two options. Whether it was some secret getting leaked or someone causing offense, he wasn't going to be the one facing questions about the identity of the Savoie Mob's Boss!

Usually, whoever did something secretive would get a visit from the investigators. Similarly, if someone offended another, they'd be targeted, or the leader shielding them. Lumian had never truly been involved in the Savoie Mob's clandestine affairs, nor had he recently defended any subordinates.

The person standing across from him was directly probing about the identity of the Savoie Mob's Boss. It wasn't about which individual belonged to the mob or some specific incident in the past.

Based on this, Lumian strongly suspected that some faction or individual had taken an interest in the Savoie Mob and planned to incorporate them.

Of course, he couldn't dismiss the possibility that a rival mob had teamed up with a powerful being to seek help in taking down the Savoie Mob's Boss.

Yet, in either case, they seemed to have a shallow understanding of the Savoie Mob. They didn't even know the superficial identity of Gardner Martin. All they knew was the most famous member of the mob in recent times. They had just asked about him and paid him a "visit."

In other words, they are treating the Savoie Mob as a regional mob with only a few Beyonders. Sending real powerhouses to deal with such a mob is clearly impractical, and they probably can't afford to hire them either. Even a Mid-Sequence Beyonder is highly esteemed; it doesn't go beyond Sequence 6. Lumian made this rough judgment in just a couple of seconds.

Seeing Lumian remaining silent and not reaching for his weapon, the tall man with bushy hair, dark eyes, and a brownish-yellow wide-brimmed hat let out a cold snort. His expression and eyes revealed a clear sense of danger.

Almost simultaneously, Lumian felt the darkness around him grow heavier, swallowing up the faint glow of distant street lamps and the crimson moonlight from the sky.

The darkness condensed like frost, slowly but firmly seeping into Lumian's skin, flesh, and bones, causing an uncontrollable fear to well up within him.

Is that all? Lumian, who had been through major situations before, scoffed inwardly.

Gazing at the muscular man with gray hair, donning a linen shirt and a brown jacket, Lumian feigned a twinge of fear and blurted out, "It's Gardner Martin! Gardner Martin, a member of the Savoie Chamber of Commerce!"

The man nodded, pleased, and pressed on, "Where does he usually reside?"

"Lion" Ciel, the ruthless, crazed, and powerful mob leader, is no different from other mobsters!

They only know how to bully the weak and rely on their mob's backing to take on rival mobs. When facing genuinely formidable foes and simple dark-type spells, their timidity and cowardice become evident!

Lumian swallowed hard and managed to say, "He lives at 11 Rue des Fontaines."

At that moment, Lumian shook himself out of his daze.

"Let me tell you, our boss is a member of a secret organization. His strength is even more terrifying than you can imagine!"

A member of a secret organization? The broad-shouldered man was momentarily taken aback before breaking into a smile.

This was truly an unexpected windfall!

"Lion" Ciel is even more timid than I thought. He even spilled such vital information!

The man lifted his chin and sneered with a deep voice, "Well, did I mention that I, too, am part of a secret organization? A very ancient one."

With those words, the surrounding darkness seemed to tighten its grip.

Really? I can't quite tell… Lumian pondered the idea of luring this man and the faction behind him to confront the Boss. He wanted to see what would happen when the two secret organizations clashed, hoping to expose more of the Iron and Blood Cross Order's secrets.

After a brief silence, Lumian couldn't bear the weight of the darkness any longer. His right hand and arm, tucked into his pocket, trembled slightly.

"I don't know, I don't know. The Boss didn't tell us the exact name!"

The man scrutinized Lumian for a few seconds and concluded that he shouldn't know the details of the secret organization.

For a regional mob like theirs, the Boss is at most a member of some secret society.

The man couldn't help but smirk sinisterly.

"Then take me to 11 Rue des Fontaines."

As soon as he spoke, he lunged at Lumian, moving with such speed that he left afterimages.

Almost simultaneously, his nails shot out, long and sharp, flickering with a metallic light that exuded a dark sheen.

Yet, Lumian showed no fear, offered no resistance, and didn't panic. He also moved to evade the attack, all while extending his right hand from the depths of his pocket.

In his hand, he held a blazing white fireball the size of a fist, sending it hurtling toward his assailant like a gift.

Fireball… Blazing white… The man with short gray hair on his face and the back of his hands found himself too close to turn around due to his speed. As these thoughts raced through his mind, he collided with the condensed, blazing-white fireball.

Boom!

Amidst the muffled explosion, the man's abdomen burst into a bloody mess, emitting a distinct charred smell.

After the other party inquired about the Savoie Mob's boss, Lumian discreetly tucked his right hand into his pocket. However, it wasn't to draw a weapon or guard against attacks. Instead, he used his clothes as cover to steadily conjure crimson flames in his palm. Layer by layer, he compressed them to their utmost, turning the flames into a blazing white. The explosive power was on par with a Giant Fireball, but even more concentrated, capable of burning through skin.

If the enemy's speed hadn't exceeded Lumian's expectations, he would have had a high chance of witnessing the enemy's neck exploding upon impact.

Amidst the rumbling, the man was sent flying, and Lumian was affected by the aftershocks, stumbling backward and tumbling a few times.

Both of them got up simultaneously. Lumian's shirt and vest bore burn marks, and many parts of his skin were damaged.

He saw an irregular, gaping wound on the man's abdomen, with blood-stained intestines flowing out and being stuffed back into place. The surface was marked with fractures and charred spots.

Despite the severe injury, the man didn't lose mobility. As he pressed his abdomen to prevent his intestines and other internal organs from spilling out, he let out a low growl of pain, anger, and violence.

Accompanied by the growl, short gray fur sprouted from his body, transforming him into a towering wolf.

His severed intestines began to writhe, attempting to reconnect. His charred skin slowly healed, and he forcefully closed the huge crack in his abdomen with his palm. Flesh and blood intertwined, bit by bit.

What potent vitality… Lumian sighed from the bottom of his heart at the sight.

He realized that given enough time, the other party would likely recover!

The other party's behavior and state reminded Lumian of a few passages recorded in Aurore's grimoires:

"Werewolf, a Sequence 7 of the Prisoner pathway, a category under Mutants. During the full moon or when they nearly lose control of their emotions, they will be controlled by their bloodthirsty and murderous desires, involuntarily transforming into a true werewolf.

"They possess terrifying strength, agility, and speed, and their self-recovery abilities are outstanding. Their claws and teeth are sturdy and sharp, and they are venomous. They are equivalent to Beyonder weapons of the same Sequence, capable of destroying thinner steel plates.

"They also know a few dark-type spells, capable of turning ordinary humans into puppet monsters with short lives.

"Werewolves often appear in the Southern Continent. They are often associated with various terrorist activities in the Northern Continent…"

I actually encountered a Werewolf Beyonder… Lumian didn't give the other party time to recover from his injuries. Crimson Fire Ravens materialized behind him, spiraling towards their target.

The Werewolf didn't sit idle either. Clutching his stomach to suppress the wound, he approached Lumian with extraordinary speed.

Most of the Fire Ravens' initial lock-on missed, but a few made minor changes in direction and landed on the target one after another, causing continuous rumbling.

The Werewolf suffered several more wounds, leaving him charred and blood-red.

Relying on his potent recovery abilities, he swiftly closed the distance between him and Lumian, disregarding his injuries. He intended to engage in close combat with the Pyromaniac, who excelled in spells, and tear him to pieces with his sharp and venomous claws.

At some point, the darkness around Lumian further encroached on him, causing him to feel an eerie chill on this summer night and slightly affecting him.

In an instant, crimson flames erupted from his body, enveloping him in scorching warmth.

The very next second, Lumian turned around and fled, dodging the Werewolf's claws.

This made the Werewolf, whose mind was filled with bloodthirsty and murderous desires, feel his adversary's fear. He believed that his target had already gone all out and lacked experience in such battles.

He chased after him and caught up to Lumian in a few swift strides.

-x-X-x-

Sensing the swipe that carried the scent of blood and char behind him, Lumian swiftly pivoted and darted into the alley leading to Rue du Rossignol.

The Werewolf's pitch-black eyes were bloodshot, and his severe injuries fueled his anger and desire to kill, overpowering most of his thoughts. He forcefully turned around and sprinted into the alley after Lumian.

Seeing Lumian vault over a barricade up ahead, he followed suit and leaped up as well.

In the next instant, he caught sight of an uncovered entrance to the sewers. Iron-black stairs led straight into the depths.

Lumian deftly stepped on the edge of the sewer entrance and jumped over the "natural" trap.

Bam! The Werewolf crashed into the sewers, finding himself halfway in. His wounds worsened, and his head spun.

Lumian seized the moment to turn around and conjure crimson Fire Ravens, sending them spiraling towards the Werewolf, who was stuck at the sewers entrance.

Amidst a muffled rumble, the crimson flaming ravens engulfed the area, setting the Werewolf's gray fur on fire, scorching patches of his skin, and tearing more flesh.

The Werewolf exerted strength with both hands and finally managed to leap out of the sewers. Lumian took the opportunity to flee, having successfully dealt a blow.

The Werewolf grew even angrier. All he wanted was to tear Lumian apart and spill his innards to the street dogs.

With a swoosh, Lumian, who had rushed to the alley exit, turned at high speed and sprinted to the left.

The Werewolf caught up in a few strides and followed the target's escape route.

However, a nearly one-meter tall barricade emerged in the darkness ahead of him. Lumian, already prepared, reached out and pressed down, using the situation to somersault and jump over.

The Werewolf realized it too late and didn't have time for other strategies. He could only choose between hastily jumping up or crashing straight into the barricade.

Exerting strength in his legs, he attempted to leap to the top of the barricade, but his forward momentum couldn't be stopped. Before he could fully ascend, his feet caught onto the obstacle.

Thud!

The Werewolf tumbled off the barricade; his fall made him see stars.

Lumian halted once more. With one hand in his pocket, he gazed at the enemy.

Around him, a new wave of Fire Ravens condensed and flew towards the base of the barricade.

The Werewolf tried his best to roll, but he was still struck by at least ten flaming ravens. The wound on his abdomen, which no longer had pressure on it, reopened, and blood-colored intestines flowed out.

Only then did the Werewolf realize that he had fallen into the other party's trap. He regained some of his rationality and assessed his weak body and unstable condition.

He extinguished the flames over his body and struggled to his feet, attempting to escape.

At that moment, Lumian's mocking voice echoed in his ears.

"Didn't your mommy tell you not to fight in an environment familiar to Hunters? You actually dared to pursue me on Rue Anarchie and the surrounding areas. I can only say that brains are important, but you don't have any."

The Werewolf's mind buzzed, and he became abnormally infuriated.

He willingly sacrificed his rationality and erupted with desire, bolstering his body in all aspects.

He had become a Lunatic!

He pursued Lumian once more.

Occasionally, Lumian would abruptly halt and counterattack. Other times, he would sneak under a stone statue's arm from a corner. When the Werewolf slammed into an obstacle, Lumian would turn around and unleash a volley of crimson Fire Ravens. Sometimes, he would feign entering Underground Trier but lie in ambush, waiting for the incoming attack.

As the pursuit continued, the Werewolf finally reached his limit, his body teetering on the brink of collapse.

Regaining his senses from his frenzied state, he felt a strong premonition of danger. All he wanted was to leave this area and escape Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman.

At that moment, Lumian halted, as if he had sensed something. He turned around and smiled.

He watched as the Werewolf fled much slower than before while condensing a blazing white spear in his hand.

Lumian swung his body and hurled the flaming spear.

A blazing white stream of light streaked through the air, piercing the Werewolf's ravaged body, pinning him to the ground, and setting him ablaze.

Amidst the sudden blaze, Lumian walked toward the enemy with one hand in his pocket.

Crimson Fire Ravens materialized behind him, whistling and spiraling as they approached the Werewolf. They burrowed into his wounds, destroying his heart, lungs, and other organs.

By the time Lumian reached his target, the Mutant was no longer breathing—he was dead.

His eyes were wide open, filled with regret and fear.

Why'd you have to attack me? If you needed something, you could've just gone to the Boss of our Savoie Mob, couldn't you? Lumian shook his head while looking down at the Werewolf. Did you plan on turning me into a puppet for the assassination of Gardner Martin? Did you really think so low of mobsters? Your confidence made you arrogant.

Earlier, Lumian prepared for a tough battle. He had even prepared for a Sequence 6. His escape route was always near Rue des Blouses Blanches.

Once there, he could get Franca's attention and have her secretly use the enemy's blood to cast a fatal curse.

Lumian considered using the explosion caused by a fireball on Avenue du Marché to create a commotion and scare the enemy away if capturing the target proved difficult even with teamwork.

But the enemy's madness and desire to kill made Lumian doubt if he could think rationally and end the battle quickly to escape the pursuit of official Beyonders. He himself had to hold on until dawn arrived.

Squatting down, Lumian searched the Werewolf's clothes, finding only 3 verl d'or coins, burnt banknotes, and a wallet without anything useful.

Have you never considered bribing me? Do you only want to rely on your strength to intimidate me? Lumian cursed, his heart aching.

He wasn't too disappointed as he knew the chances of this Werewolf being a bestowed were slim. Soon, it could secrete a Sequence 7 Beyonder characteristic that included Sequence 9 and Sequence 8 Beyonder characteristics, worth 30,000 to 40,000 verl d'or, or even more. He could use it to complement the Shadow Branch, create mystical items, or exchange it for more suitable Beyonder characteristics.

Considering the relatively weak explosions he caused, Lumian didn't linger on the street. After briefly dealing with the Werewolf's corpse, he picked him up and brought him to the back door of Salle de Bal Brise.

Sarkota and the other members of the Savoie Mob were no strangers to destroying corpses, quickly placing the body inside a bag and sending people to clean up the blood along the way.

Lumian tossed the body bag into the carriage belonging to Salle de Bal Brise, fully intending to find Gardner Martin that very night.

During the journey, he opened the body bag several times and finally noticed a blackish-green light secreting from the corpse, which merged with a sharp canine fang.

After a few seconds, Lumian had obtained this strange black-green fang.

After a moment's consideration, he decided to keep the fang in the body bag and see what Gardner Martin would do.

Based on the Commanding Officer's behavior, Lumian knew he would undoubtedly reward him when the time came. He might hand over the Werewolf Beyonder characteristic, switch it to another one, or purchase it at market value.

In any case, Lumian was ready to be honest about it.

Around 1 a.m., Salle de Bal Brise's carriage stopped at 11 Rue des Fontaines in Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative. Lumian unceremoniously pulled the rope beside the iron fence door, causing the chimes to reverberate through the grayish-white three-story villa.

Before long, a valet of Southern Continent descent arrived and opened the door, though he looked displeased at being woken up. When he saw Lumian's charred and tattered clothes and the body bag he dragged behind him, his attitude changed to that of a courteous servant.

Lumian brought the body bag into the villa and saw Faustino, the butler, who was also a member of the Iron and Blood Cross Order.

After tying his bow tie, Faustino stared at Lumian and the body bag for a few seconds before asking in surprise, "What's this?"

"A strange fellow," Lumian replied with a smile.

Faustino didn't inquire further and led Lumian into the activity room on the first floor.

There, Gardner Martin, donning a dark-blue silk robe, sat in a recliner and asked with a smile, "Who's in the body bag? For you to rush here overnight, it doesn't seem simple."

Lumian untied the body bag and dumped the Werewolf's corpse and the strange black-green fang onto the carpet in the activity room.

Gardner Martin's expression turned serious at a single glance.

"A Werewolf…"

Lumian chuckled. "He came to me to inquire about the identity of the Boss of our Savoie Mob. He even wanted to control me and turn me into a puppet."

Gardner Martin nodded slowly and said, "And?"

"And then?" Lumian raised his eyebrows and replied with a smile, "Then I killed him."

Upon hearing this, Faustino, the butler standing beside the Commanding Officer, glanced at the Werewolf's corpse on the ground and then at Lumian, whose clothes were clearly charred and torn. His expression was no longer calm and composed.

Gardner Martin's eyes narrowed. After a few seconds of silence, he sighed and said, "Unfortunately, you don't know how to channel spirits; we missed out on a lot of information."

Lumian wanted to say, "Perhaps I need a mystical item that can channel spirits," but he was worried that it would take up a portion of the reward and cause the Shadow Branch to lose its match.

Gardner Martin continued, "I'll arrange for follow-up investigations and responses. Don't worry about this for the time being. I'll inform you when you need to carry out your mission."

"What's he up to? He doesn't seem simple." Lumian glanced at the Werewolf's corpse and deliberately expressed his confusion.

Gardner Martin shook his head.

"I can't be sure yet." He then looked at Lumian and asked with a smile, "Do you want this Werewolf fang or something else?"

"What are the choices?" Lumian didn't hold back.

-x-X-x-

Gardner Martin was well accustomed to Lumian's straightforwardness. He gave a slight nod and said, "If you want a quick trade, I have three items of equal value to the Werewolf fang."

"The first is the Shadow Bracelet, a mystical item that lets you conceal yourself within larger shadows. It can summon a Shadow Servant with a few special abilities and can bring shadows to life to restrain targets to some extent.

"It's a foreboding item. More than a third of those who've used it have gone mad, while another third mysteriously disappeared without it, never to be seen again. Many of those who remain seem fine, but they often complain of tinnitus and hallucinate sounds.

"In recent years, unless there are special circumstances, no one has dared to use this mystical item."

Lumian expressed his confusion through his gaze: Then why are you offering it to me? Do I look like a lunatic or an idiot to you?

Gardner Martin smiled and explained, "I'm one of the few people who hasn't encountered problems with the Shadow Bracelet. I know a way to weaken its negative effects, but I can only tell you if you choose it."

When did you start hallucinating that there's nothing wrong with you? Lumian suppressed his concerns and held his tongue.

He thought that Gardner Martin, who had been corrupted by the abnormality at 13 Avenue du Marché, might not be any better than those who had gone mad or disappeared mysteriously.

According to Madam Magician's description of corruption, the person standing before him might not be the same Gardner Martin as before.

Gardner Martin glanced at Lumian and smiled. "Actually, there's no need to be so reserved in front of me. That won't make you seem like a Hunter who hasn't advanced to Sequence 6. If you say something that might 'provoke' me, I'll probably just respond with sarcasm. Look, isn't Albus still alive and well?"

"Yes, CO Sir," Lumian replied, not revealing the secrets that couldn't be disclosed to the Iron and Blood Cross Order.

Gardner Martin got up from his recliner and continued, "The second item is a Beyonder characteristic left behind by a Spirit Medium. Do you know what Beyonder characteristics are?"

Lumian answered calmly, "Killing a Beyonder creature will yield one of the main ingredients for concocting a potion. Killing a Beyonder will definitely yield the corresponding items, just like the transparent golden-red ball from 'Hammer' Ait and this Werewolf fang."

"I believe these are Beyonder characteristics. They all correspond to a potion. There's no need to gather additional main ingredients, right?"

Gardner Martin nodded approvingly. "That's right. Your judgment is accurate."

Gardner Martin didn't go into detail about the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Indestructibility, as if he believed it involved many secrets Lumian couldn't grasp at the moment.

With his hands clasped behind his back, Gardner Martin paced in front of the unlit fireplace.

"Spirit Medium. From its name, you can roughly guess the abilities of the mystical item created from it. Of course, what you obtain depends on an Artisan's ability.

"If I'm not mistaken, it should be an Eye of Death, allowing one to disguise as a zombie and endure the effects of decay, cold, death, and other auras. It can also identify the weaknesses of undead creatures and directly communicate with natural spirits and various undead creatures in the real world, using them for various magical effects. If you're lucky enough, you might even have all of those abilities.

"Try not to carry this Beyonder characteristic with you. Otherwise, you'll become the target of surrounding natural spirits and undead creatures. You'll never know when you might suffer a bizarre attack."

Impressive as it sounds, it's somewhat similar to a Contractee—relying on other creatures to gain strength… Lumian pondered for a few seconds and asked, "And the third?"

Gardner Martin settled back into his recliner.

"It's also a Beyonder characteristic. If you carry it, you'll find yourself rather lucky. This will be reflected in the details of various matters.

"The corresponding Sequence name is Lucky One, but you have to remember that reveling in luck is often a precursor to disaster. Also, it might allow you to see things you shouldn't see."

Sequence 7 of the Monster pathway? Lumian recalled the contents of Aurore's grimoires.

The Monster pathway, also known as the Fate pathway, was a pathway known for its high spiritual perception and close connection to fate.

Lumian chuckled and said, "The Lucky One ultimately transformed into a Beyonder characteristic in an unlucky manner? What an ironic joke."

Gardner Martin agreed. "Don't underestimate bad luck, and don't rely on luck. Otherwise, you may also become a Beyonder characteristic."

"Very philosophical." Lumian took note of the words filled with experience and lessons learned.

He carefully recalled Gardner Martin's introduction and realized that he wasn't stingy with information about the corresponding Sequences.

Merely the descriptions of the abilities of a Spirit Medium and Lucky One could fetch a good price at many mystical gatherings.

Gardner Martin pointed at the blackish-green fang on the ground.

"It's a Werewolf Beyonder characteristic. Once transformed into a mystical item, it should provide powerful self-healing abilities, allow transformation into a werewolf, and grant a short burst of power at the expense of rationality.

"But, as you saw, Werewolves are always affected by killing and bloodlust. During the full moon or Blood Moon, there's the latent danger of losing your mind and control.

"Have you decided which item to choose? If you choose the Beyonder characteristics, I can help you contact an Artisan and assist with the production fee. It's the reward you deserve for your contribution tonight."

Is the Artisan you're hiring a Saint? How will you react if you discover that I'm hiding a Shadow Branch? Lumian wondered, seriously considering his options.

First, he eliminated the Shadow Bracelet, suspected to be a mystical item of Mr. K's pathway. Mr. K might offer similar but better options in his rewards soon. Besides, the negative effects of the Shadow Bracelet were too perilous. Even if Gardner Martin claimed he could weaken them, Lumian didn't dare take the risk.

Most importantly, such a risk was pointless.

A Spirit Medium can compensate for my shortcomings, but it doesn't complement the Shadow Branch. I can't create a mystical item with the effect of lingering human-ghost emotions. Yes, some characteristics overlap with a Contractee…

Lucky One can make the Shadow Branch always trigger suitable desires? The Werewolf's rationality sacrifice and the influence of being murderous and bloodthirsty are quite compatible with the Shadow Branch. I wonder what kind of mystical item it would produce…

After careful consideration that spanned a few minutes, Lumian made his decision.

"I want Lucky One."

The main reason he gave up the Werewolf Beyonder characteristic was its potential negative effect of losing rationality.

Others might find ways to reduce the impact, using it only when facing enemies or avoiding certain lunar phases. But Lumian couldn't take that risk. Losing his mind even once could lead to Termiboros exploiting him and causing the seal to lose its balance.

Furthermore, he belonged to the Inevitability domain as a Beyonder in some way. In the future, when he reached a higher Sequence, he might be able to enhance the mystical item's effects through the Lucky One trait.

As for seeing things he shouldn't, Lumian already had the Mystery Prying Glasses, so having something similar didn't bother him.

Gardner Martin seemed surprised. He had expected Lumian to choose between the Spirit Medium Beyonder characteristic and Shadow Bracelet.

However, he quickly composed himself and didn't inquire further. With a smile, he said, "Humans are obsessed with good luck."

The Boss of the Savoie Mob, Commanding Officer of the Iron and Blood Cross Order, briefly left the activity room and went upstairs.

A few minutes later, he returned with a transparent glass jar, once used to hold sweets.

Inside the jar lay a mercury-colored eyeball, swiveling left and right as if it were alive.

"To carry and store it, place it in a narrow dark space," Gardner Martin instructed as he wrapped the jar in black cloth.

Handing the item to Lumian, he added, "Change the jar every seven days."

"Thank you, CO Sir." Lumian put the glass jar containing the Lucky One Beyonder characteristic into his pocket.

Gardner Martin didn't wonder why Lumian didn't ask him to contact an Artisan. The true effects of a mystical item were something the wielder wanted to keep as secret as possible. Seeking an unknown Artisan was more conducive to secrecy.

Just as these thoughts crossed his mind, Lumian brought up the matter himself.

"CO Sir, I'd like to exchange the free Artisan service for other rewards."

Curious, Gardner Martin asked, "What reward do you desire?"

A grin crept across Lumian's face. "Help me find someone."

"Who?" Gardner Martin had a hunch.

Lumian's expression turned serious.

"Guillaume Bénet.

"Since you know I'm from Cordu, you must have seen the padre's wanted poster.

"I've been tracking him, hoping to apprehend the heretic who caused disaster for me. I just received information that he might appear in Quartier de la Princesse Rouge next week. I'd like to request your assistance in locating him, CO Sir."

Gardner Martin burst into laughter.

"I thought you wanted to handle it yourself, enduring pain, tracking alone, and seeking revenge in secret.

"Nicely done. You've learned to leverage an organization's strength sooner than I expected. That's something a Hunter must understand.

"I agree to your request."