43 COI

Simultaneously with Franca's explanation, inky flames emanated from her right hand, melding with the mirror that belonged to Lumian's substitute.

Jenna observed with a mixture of apprehension, her breath held involuntarily.

…

Within the Bottle of Fiction.

Just as the wall of flames surged forth, kindling the Abyss Demon Flowers, a pang of agony gnawed at Lumian's heart, birthing a faint shroud of black flames upon his chest.

In response, his Spirit Body descended gradually, drawn into an abyssal darkness, a void obliterating light.

Curse? Lumian, ensconced within the cradle of crimson flames, was caught off guard.

The reasons behind this unexpected curse eluded him.

On the one hand, he had preemptively plugged his ears, blunting the impact of the Soul Assimilation Mystic Spell. On the other, Guillaume Bénet lay concealed among the dormant Abyss Demon Flowers, offering no overt indications of invoking contract abilities. Furthermore, he remained unscathed, leaving behind neither flesh nor blood. Every strand of his discarded hair had been consumed by the encroaching flames.

As the black flames emerged, the curse lingered at a subdued level, manifesting as a faint affliction that refrained from impeding his movements. Instantaneously, Lumian formulated a hypothesis.

This curse came from Franca!

Employing Mirror Substitution, she sought to reach out to him!

With renewed determination, Lumian thrust his hands in the direction of the padre's covert location.

Resounding with crackling, another barrier of crimson flames materialized, fire enveloping the descending Abyss Demon Flowers.

Leveraging this veil to obscure Guillaume Bénet's line of sight, Lumian pivoted and sprinted toward the entryway of the Bottle of Fiction.

His actions and his overt choice resonated with unmistakable clarity, conveying to Guillaume Bénet: Why should I fight you within your chosen battleground? If my comrades are barred from entry, I'll venture outside and unite with them!

Emerging from his concealment behind a cluster of Abyss Demon Flowers, Guillaume Bénet radiated a metallic gleam across his exposed skin.

Blazing tongues of fire surged toward him, yet they could only "strip away" a fraction of fabric, unable to sear his flesh.

Through the fiery veil, the Cordu padre bestowed a smile upon Lumian's indistinct figure.

Given the capability to freely traverse the Bottle of Fiction with requisite conditions fulfilled, he had ingeniously laid a trap at the entryway, awaiting Lumian's unwitting ensnarement!

Having assumed a metallic form, his utility was confined to boons involving his body, fate, and three distinct contract abilities untouched by his transformation. Among the latter was:

Shadow Burial!

A black mark on Guillaume Bénet's torso wavered, summoning pallid-white and abyssal-black arms that extended from the encroaching shadows, ensnaring Lumian, mid-sprint toward the entryway.

Lumian, with a forceful stomp, catapulted into the air, seemingly aiming to vault over the eerie appendages emerging from the shadows, seeking sanctuary at the hushed, inky exit.

Behind him, a crimson fireball materialized, poised to detonate at a moment's notice, transmuting into a vessel of obliteration.

Simultaneously, fierce fireballs ignited to his left and right, as if poised to counteract the grasp of the arms.

Guillaume Bénet's metallic visage bore a smile more discernible than before, though it remained deprived of vitality—stern and emotionless.

He anticipated Lumian's imminent leap into the Bottle of Fiction's exit.

The strange arms accompanying the Shadow Burial served as a diversionary tactic, forestalling any suspicions from arising!

It's a pity that I can't use Bone Curse in my metallic state. Otherwise, this would be a good opportunity… Guillaume Bénet hesitated to dispel his Steel Body and deal Lumian another blow.

That way, he wouldn't be able to transform into a metallic creature again anytime soon. The abandoned mine now permeated with anesthetic gas would shortly transform into an inferno. For weak humans lacking godhood, this hostile terrain was untenable. Even Alms Monks could sustain themselves only a brief interval longer.

In the throes of hesitation, Guillaume Bénet ultimately opted to persist with Shadow Burial, permitting the nightmarish arms to continue their relentless encroachment upon Lumian.

With a vigorous leap, Lumian neared the exit of the Bottle of Fiction, almost within grasp.

At that moment, the pitch-black exit—a shadowed orifice devoid of flame—suddenly writhed faintly, akin to a shadowy maw yearning for sustenance.

Undetected, a suffused aura of "shadow" had enshrouded the secret door's surface, a profundity seemingly imbued with life!

This was a trap Guillaume Bénet had meticulously laid. The mechanism lay dormant during Lumian's initial entrance, solely activating when Lumian attempted exit. This safeguard was devised to preempt Lumian from having any danger premonitions when initially entering the Bottle of Fiction, deterring him from braving its confines.

Lumian perceived the sensation of plummeting into an abyss, the final lifeline eluding his grip.

The deceptively thin veil of darkness coiled, an amalgam of endless shadows that converged into an abyssal maw, an aperture on the verge of engulfing him.

Mid-flight, Lumian extended his right palm, yet just before it made contact with the shadowy maw shrouding the hidden door, he abruptly withdrew it, mimicking a gesture of prying open a door.

In tandem, the Decency brooch nestled upon his right chest emitted a subdued golden glow.

Distortion!

Lumian distorted the action of opening the door with the concept of "unsealing this confined space!"

From the outset, his intent to depart the Bottle of Fiction was absent. Instead, he sought to find a way for his companions to infiltrate, thus furnishing reinforcement.

This enclave laden with combustible resources stood as a haven for a Pyromaniac!

Boom!

With a resounding detonation, the crimson fireball positioned to Lumian's left erupted, issuing a horizontal thrust that exacted a substantial toll. His attire lay rent, and his flesh bore charred imprints, inflicted by the fiery onslaught. Gradually nearing the shadowy vortex, the forceful explosion propelled him away from the exit of the Bottle of Fiction and beyond the enshrouded region brimming with appendages swathed in pallid-white and abyssal-black.

Resounding with a thud, Lumian tumbled, ensconcing himself behind a rampart of surging flames. This maneuver forestalled the further encroachment of the shadowy expanse, obliging the strange arms to contend with the blistering blaze.

Outside the Bottle of Fiction.

A frigid zephyr brushed against Franca and Jenna, wafting from the hidden door's interior.

Swiftly, the chill metamorphosed into a searing fervor. Behind the hidden door lay a derelict mine engulfed in a sea of crimson flames, the blazing inferno punctuated by the descent of undistorted fire dragons, their incandescence unbridled.

The remaining black vines, the crimson flowers, and the strange arms all succumbed to the fiery onslaught, pursued relentlessly by the raging conflagration.

Signaling to Jenna, Franca receded into the shadows as she drew closer to the hidden door.

Jenna understood Franca's intentions and rationally retreated into the shadows outside the hidden door, concealing herself.

She knew that it would be difficult for her to participate in the battle with her strength. Thus, she chose to bide her time, awaiting the enemy's emergence through the threshold, poised to exploit a fleeting opportunity to deliver a decisive, lethal strike.

Within the ajar Bottle of Fiction, Lumian, having concluded his somersault, propped himself up with a single hand.

Locking his gaze onto the distant Guillaume Bénet—his form akin to that of a metallic marionette—Lumian's lips curled wordlessly, yielding an eruption of crimson flames that engulfed his flesh and attire.

A familiar pang of torment reverberated across Lumian's psyche, jolting him awake from the lethargic stupor.

It's been some time! Lumian's grin was tinged with distortion as he hurtled toward the metal-encased Guillaume Bénet. His forward momentum stirred the encompassing crimson flames, elongating behind him like a shimmering, unfurled cape.

Wary of Lumian's earlier utilization of the harrumph spell, Guillaume Bénet, resembling a puppet forged from steel, evaded direct confrontation, executing artful shifts in position.

Discerning Lumian's strategy of harnessing the flames to stave off the Abyss Demon Flowers-induced anesthetic gas, Guillaume Bénet discerned this endeavor to be fleeting. At best, Lumian's fiery gambit would delay his descent into unconsciousness. Certain matters couldn't be resolved by self-harm!

Having adopted the form of a metallic entity via Steel Body, Guillaume Bénet remained impervious to the anesthetic gas's effects, even forgoing the need to draw breath. This form also minimized the conflagration's impact on him. Guillaume Bénet was convinced that Steel Body's efficacy would persist until Lumian Lee succumbed to unconsciousness.

Furthermore, his assessment revealed Lumian's substantial spirituality expenditure, coupled with Lumian's evident abstention from spirit world traversal.

This deduction led Guillaume Bénet to surmise that the harrumph spell likely bore limitations on its frequency of use.

Of course, sustained evasion was untenable. Lumian Lee's actions hinted at him using some unconventional means to open the Bottle of Fiction, suggesting his companions had likely infiltrated covertly through invisibility. Guillaume Bénet couldn't allow this duo to demonstrate the potency of their teamwork.

Nimbly maneuvering around the plummeting tendrils of flaming vines, Guillaume Bénet executed a sudden pivot, facing Lumian with unwavering intent.

His metallic countenance mirrored the flaming luminance, refracting a kaleidoscopic iridescence.

Myriads of diminutive "rainbows" coalesced, cleaving Guillaume Bénet as though he gazed upon his mirror image.

Light Incarnation!

One of the three contractual abilities accessible in his Steel Body state.

Its premise lay in leveraging light to forge a fleeting incarnation, capable of channeling an individual's capabilities.

Two metallic Guillaume Bénets surged toward Lumian simultaneously.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Each stride they undertook fostered corporeal expansion, culminating in the metamorphosis into metallic titans, which tore asunder their white robes adorned with silver-black threads.

Elevating his right hand, Lumian summoned into being a host of crimson Fire Ravens that swirled about him.

The Fire Ravens promptly surged toward the two Guillaume Bénets, demonstrating no clemency.

Given the inherent challenge of distinguishing authenticity from imitation within a short span of time, Lumian adopted a stratagem of unleashing an onslaught indiscriminately—comprising both genuine and illusory manifestations!

For truth could not be falsified, nor could falsity be genuine!

In an abrupt detonation, the Guillaume Bénet before him disintegrated.

Rumble!

Accompanied by the explosion, amid which a multitude of Fire Ravens were prematurely engulfed in combustion, a Water Cannon sculpted from dark-green liquid surged forth from the fake Guillaume Bénet's fragmented remnants.

The Water Cannon, of astonishing alacrity and proximity, penetrated Lumian's fiery shroud, impinging upon his form. As a consequence, Lumian's physique began exhibiting telltale signs of liquefaction.

Draynere Gland Poison!

One of three contractual abilities he could use as a metallic entity!

With a brittle crack, Lumian's corporeal structure fractured, metamorphosing into mirrors.

A mere ten meters from Guillaume Bénet, Franca, owing to the activation of Mirror Substitution, involuntarily escaped her state of Invisibility.

Observing her emergence, Guillaume Bénet's blue irises assumed a pallor bordering on translucence. A deft push of his right palm propagated the emergence of an expansive river of mercurial sigils encircling Franca.

Pitting himself directly against Lumian Lee proved to be a disconcerting engagement for Guillaume Bénet. His paramount and most formidable Fate Appropriator ability remained inaccessible, for its utilization would catalyze a consequential backlash from Inevitability.

Since it couldn't be used on Lumian Lee, it could be used on his companion!

-x-X-x-

A Fate Appropriator harbored two primary abilities:

Firstly, the capacity to magnify a corresponding fate tributary, thereby setting in stone an imminent destiny for the target. This process could be expeditious, yet its future influence spanned a mere ten seconds. The resulting efficacy was contingent upon environmental compatibility; a more congruent backdrop augmented the probability of the event materializing in the forthcoming future.

Secondly, the ability to swap an accumulated fate for a fragment of the target's own destiny. Absent a premeditated arrangement, one had to either kill the adversary to access their fate or employ their personal fate as a substitute. Relatively more protracted in execution than magnifying an impending fate tributary, this method prohibited one from assailing the target or inducing harm mid-process.

At this moment, Guillaume Bénet, who wasn't fighting one-on-one, clearly didn't want to engage in a fate exchange. His plan was to utilize the current environment and magnify Lumian Lee's female companion's fate tributary of being affected by the Abyss Demon Flower's anesthetic gas to make it a reality.

Of course, as the woman in the black hood hadn't fallen asleep and wouldn't be paralyzed or knocked unconscious for ten seconds, the sole recourse was to expedite the process while steering it toward the most dire outcome.

In a similar vein, this elucidated one of the rationales behind Guillaume Bénet's abstention from interfering with Lumian Lee's fate tributary.

What he refrained from attempting was the exchange of the adversary's fate or the inversion of key tributaries into the principal course, lest he suffered the backlash invoked by Inevitability. He wouldn't have a problem if he only made Lumian Lee slip and fall, achieving futures that wouldn't have significant impact.

The mercurial river encircling Franca was reflected in Guillaume Bénet's lightened eyes. After some discernment, he grabbed at one of the tributaries formed by the mercury symbol that wrapped around itself.

Concurrently, Franca arched her neck, thereby unveiling her supple neck and moist vermilion lips under the hood's shadows.

Peculiarly, a palpable flutter stirred in Guillaume Bénet's chest, reverberating to his nether regions as he recollected scenes of his liaisons with courtesans along Rue de la Muraille. Yet, these recollections paled in allure compared to the figure opposite him, despite her visage remaining partially veiled.

Despite his momentary lapse, Guillaume Bénet promptly reinstated his focus.

Capitalizing upon this fleeting respite, Franca—enlightened to the general scope of a Fate Appropriator's abilities courtesy of Lumian—sparked latent black flames, engendering frost that enshrouded her form.

Opaque filaments converged, manifesting palpable encasement amid the frigid shroud, akin to a cocoon.

Unperturbed, Guillaume Bénet's lips curled into a smirk, unfazed by the unfolding situation.

If a Fate Appropriator's abilities were so easily rendered ineffectual, they wouldn't be called Fate Appropriators!

Furthermore, as long as the target's fate tributary was magnified or underwent a fate exchange, they wouldn't be able to break free even if they used a substitute.

With measured deliberation, Guillaume Bénet extended his right palm and executed a slight wrist rotation, magnifying a particular fate he had chosen.

Nonetheless, in this precise instant, he perceived the hooded lady's fate river adopting an uncanny semblance of illusory ambiguity, an etherealness so pronounced as to border on feigned fabrication.

A decoy!

Guillaume Bénet's endeavor to augment the fate tributary was abruptly thwarted. The cocoon disintegrated, frost fragmenting and black flames metamorphosing into coruscating beams of light.

Yet, the focus of the protection wasn't Franca herself, but rather, a mirror!

Capitalizing on Guillaume Bénet's momentary bewilderment, a casualty of the Demoness of Pleasure's allure and his self-imposed adverse effects, Franca seized the initiative. Employing Mirror Substitution, she ensconced herself in layers of black flames, frost, and spider silk, confounding the adversary while concealing the real lethal peril.

Thus, she extricated herself from the figurative crosshairs, evading the adversary's targeting.

Simultaneously with the failure of Guillaume Bénet's attempt to amplify the fate tributary, a figure garbed in an Assassin's attire manifested behind him, its visage partially obscured by a classic brass revolver, aimed steadfastly at the enemy's cranium before pulling the trigger.

Bang!

The iron-black round collided with the dodging Guillaume Bénet's head, emitting a distinct metallic clang.

Guillaume Bénet's head, bedecked in a metallic sheen, yielded to the impact, though its structural integrity endured, deflecting a potentially lethal strike.

Nearly in tandem, Lumian, having used Mirror Substitution to evade the effects of Draynere Gland Poison, and draped in flaming clothes, emerged nearby. Dropping to a genuflecting posture, he pressed his palms to the ground.

In response, twin crimson fire serpents surged into being, consuming the incendiary vines while spreading the flames along their trajectory, ultimately converging to form a colossal pair of fire dragons.

Both entities surged toward Guillaume Bénet. However, their purpose wasn't to ingest their quarry, but to intertwine and coalesce, giving rise to an ostentatious and brilliant conflagration-blooming flower.

As the fiery flower unfurled before him, Guillaume Bénet grappled with comprehending Lumian Lee's intentions.

With his Steel Body, his resistance to flames was steadfast for the time being, but the other party wouldn't go as far as wasting an opportunity and do nothing but perform fire magic, right?

This was Bribe!

Lumian had "gifted" Guillaume Bénet with a blazing flower—an emblem signifying incineration and obliteration. Capitalizing on the Decency brooch, he had completed a Bribe, thereby attenuating the adversary's defenses.

Although Lumian Lee's true motives remained opaque, Guillaume Bénet's intuition kindled with the conviction that this augured unfavorably.

In rapid succession, Guillaume Bénet invoked Light Incarnation anew, fragmenting into three iterations as he advanced toward Lumian. As Franca's assault faltered, she vanished anew.

Witnessing the three iterations of the metalized Guillaume Bénet rapidly engorge, Lumian conjured a new cohort of Fire Ravens and distributed them evenly amongst the trio of adversaries.

Then, turning his form and slowing his pace, he primed himself for a prospective evasion of the ensuing Water Cannon conjured from Draynere Gland Poison.

Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh! The crimson Fire Ravens landed precisely on the three metalized Guillaume Bénets.

Rumble, rumble, rumble!

They exploded simultaneously!

A torrent of dark-green liquid surged forth from one of Guillaume Bénet's forms—Water Cannon. Lumian, braced for the assault, deftly evaded, his gaze fixed upon the collision of aqueous impact against the rocky wall, a tremor rippling through the Bottle of Fiction.

Yet, as Lumian's evasion completed, he detected a colossal shadow enshrouding his feet. Thereupon, a medley of pallid-white and obsidian-black arms extended forth from this obscurity.

In contrast, Lumian's other choice of direction was shrouded in a dark shadow.

At Sequence 5, Light Incarnation permitted Guillaume Bénet the creation of up to three incarnations, each incarnation fake. One harbored Draynere Gland Poison, while the other pair wielded Shadow Burial, intent on ensnaring Lumian within their shade-infused grasp.

Curved, grotesque limbs ensnared Lumian's ankles, striving to haul him into the nebulous depths.

Amid this peril, a figure emerged from the inky depths—a half-naked, metallic-finished Guillaume Bénet.

Shadow Burial was a form of shadow concealment for him!

By capitalizing on three Light Incarnations—which consumed a large amount of spirituality—to veil his position, thereby detaining Lumian temporarily, Guillaume Bénet engineered his stealthy approach via the shadows, orchestrating a decisive assault.

His body suddenly expanded as he punched Lumian behind the ear.

A thunderous crack resonated as Lumian's form fragmented akin to a glass pane, fracturing into myriad minuscule fragments subsequently claimed by the pallid-white and obsidian-black arms.

Mirror Substitution!

It was precisely due to the implementation of Mirror Substitution that Franca refrained from intervening on Lumian's behalf when she saw him restrained by the strange arms extending from the shadow. Rather, she bided her time, anticipating Guillaume Bénet's advent to administer a terminal blow.

Amidst the cracking sounds, Franca's hooded, black-robed figure involuntarily appeared once more, quickly spotted by the padre.

Guillaume Bénet had been waiting for this opportunity to stop himself from being affected by the charm and turn his blue eyes light-colored again.

He saw the mercurial river of fate and began to choose the fate of being paralyzed by the burning gasses of the Abyss Demon Flowers.

Yet, an abrupt surge of peril seized Guillaume Bénet's consciousness, compelling a stark realization: interference with the adversary's fate would undoubtedly yield cataclysmic repercussions.

Impossible! Moments earlier, such consequences hadn't arisen! Yet, as he scrutinized the figure before him, Guillaume Bénet, who had been able to interfere with his target's fate normally previously to near success, saw a hooded woman hiding behind the hooded woman. The woman behind her held a palm-sized mirror that illuminated his figure.

In an instant, Guillaume Bénet understood what was going on.

The hooded woman standing in front of him, revealing the river of fate, was Lumian Lee!

After activating Mirror Substitution, he took the initiative to appear in front of his companion. Seizing the opportunity, he used a Transfiguration-like ability to change his appearance and disguise himself as his companion!

You do realize, using the same trick won't work twice? Franca, who was hiding behind Lumian, chuckled when she saw this.

Seeing Lumian under attack, she took out her teammate's Mirror Substitution and threw it in front of her. Taking advantage of the cover and the enemy's drawn attention, she aimed another mirror at Guillaume Bénet.

Without hesitation, Franca's palm was enveloped in black flames as she swiped the mirror's surface.

Curse!

Demoness's Curse!

In a simultaneous eruption, a quietly smoldering black flame ignited from within Guillaume Bénet's metallic form.

Elated that his Steel Body rendered him impervious to conflagration, inflicting only minor wounds, he soon perceived an anomalous drain on his spirit, coupled with indications of severe ethereal scorching.

In the span of an eye's flutter, the Cordu village padre emitted a tormented cry.

Instantaneously, his metallic semblance plummeted to the earth with a cacophonous clatter, reconstituting into a form unadorned by metal, starkly naked and manifestly fleshy.

At the same time, Franca, too, experienced a visceral tremor, her countenance assuming a pallid hue.

"Rebirth!"

The contract ability in question facilitated Guillaume Bénet's revival within the slayer's body!

Guillaume Bénet's spirit smiled and hastened to replace the woman holding the mirror and take control of her body.

Yet, he confronted a disconcerting reality: before him stood an enshrouded woman brandishing a mirror, baring her lower visage in a manner reminiscent of malevolent allure.

She's in front… Then whose body did I Rebirth into? A disorienting befuddlement inundated Guillaume Bénet.

Meanwhile, Lumian, ensconced within Franca's semblance, donned a knowing grin, gradually retracting his right palm from the padre's lifeless cadaver, the Decency brooch aglow with a dusky-golden luminescence.

Distortion!

How could he not guard against Guillaume Bénet's Rebirth ability when he already knew that Guillaume Bénet's mistress had chosen such an ability?

Lumian couldn't overtly commandeer Guillaume Bénet's Rebirth with his seal and corruption alone. Nevertheless, Lumian, resembling Franca with uncanny precision, had already instructed Franca to bring the Earth Blood ore.

Innately repellent to even the Montsouris ghost, the Earth Blood ore imposed an unseen force field compelling Guillaume Bénet's Spirit Body's circumvention.

Leveraging the Distortion afforded by the Decency brooch, coupled with the Earth Blood ore's obstructive efficacy and the Niese Face's transformation, Lumian orchestrated Guillaume Bénet's Rebirth within his very body!

Although Lumian's visage paled and his frame quivered slightly, a smile graced his lips as he extended his hand towards his left chest, gently declaring, "Padre, everyone is waiting for you."

-x-X-x-

As Lumian's words reverberated, an inexplicable chill settled over Guillaume Bénet, even in his Spirit Body form.

There, a colossal, semi-transparent vortex unfurled, ensconced in a wispy gray fog at its nadir. Within this haze materialized a dimly lit village, populated by spectral forms.

One of these apparitions gazed skyward, noticing Guillaume Bénet's struggle against the vortex's inexorable pull.

His pale-white face instantly lit up with excitement and fanaticism as he shouted, "Oh, my deity, my lord, you're here too?

"Quickly, join us! Hasten your approach!"

The figure belonged to Guillaume Bénet's brother, Pons Bénet.

Sensing Pons Bénet's abnormality, the figures lingering in the dim village looked up at Guillaume Bénet.

Among them, Madonna Bénet, Philippa Guillaume, and the others, who had once been Guillaume Bénet's mistresses, extended their pale-white arms to the sky and smiled blankly.

"Quickly, join us! Hasten your approach!"

Immediately after, Shepherd Pierre Berry, Lumian's comrade Guillaume Berry, Azéma Lizier, and more added their supplicating gestures.

In an instant, a peculiar, pallid forest seemingly sprouted from within the village's dim enclave, its spectral denizens directing their palms towards the padre.

Guillaume Bénet's descent escalated, his Spirit Body verging on fragmentation.

Struggling to counteract the vortex's pull, he sought to resist its sway, aiming to evade its dominion and flee Lumian's profoundly perilous vessel.

He couldn't care less about the Rebirth in the other party's body and the corresponding fate.

That was something he couldn't bear!

Lumian's grin expanded, seemingly attuned to the cacophony of terror and anguish echoing within his own body.

Indeed, possessing him via Rebirth and forcing a possession by luring others over via the Summoning Dance were completely different treatments!

The former would form a connection with his fate and, in an attempt to replace it, it would inevitably trigger the seal. Guillaume Bénet's profound corruption by Inevitability meant that the resonance of this seal's potency was inevitable.

Though Lumian remained ignorant of the precise ramifications, he intuited they would bode ill.

Perceiving Guillaume Bénet's vehement longing to extricate himself, Lumian opted to refrain from thwarting his escape, willingly relinquishing any interference.

Ultimately, Guillaume Bénet—having expended a considerable amount of his spirituality—struggled to escape from Lumian's body.

A dark-golden glimmer traversed his chest, heralding Guillaume Bénet's emergence within the palm-sized mirror clasped in Franca's grasp.

Franca's palm coalesced an unblemished frost, which she spread over the mirror's surface.

Instantaneously, Guillaume Bénet's form became ensconced within a veneer of ice, ensnared within the mirror's confines.

Concurrently, Franca summoned black flames, which enshrouded the icy enclosure.

Though the ice in itself was inadequate to bar a Spirit Body's escape from the mirror, the shrouding black flames bore that capability. Should Guillaume Bénet dare venture beyond the ice's protection, the flames awaited to engulf him.

With Guillaume Bénet's Spirit Body securely sealed, Franca glanced up at Lumian—who had removed the paper balls—and directed, "Channel his spirit after we're out. Your flames and anesthetic gas are everywhere."

With her physique and expenditure, holding on for another two or three minutes sans Mirror Substitution posed no undue challenge. Nonetheless, she sensed Lumian reaching his threshold.

Affirming Franca's directive with a nod, Lumian briskly pivoted and surged towards the Bottle of Fiction's exit.

Consequent to Guillaume Bénet's "demise," the concealed trap had naturally been lifted.

Having returned to the sacrificial hall, Lumian promptly dissipated the Niese Face, reverting his appearance from that of Franca's hooded visage and black robe.

His upper body bore the telltale markings of being charred, yet owing to his skillful management following the initial digestion of the Pyromaniac potion, his trousers remained unscathed.

This approach, evoking pain, stimulating cerebral activity, and rousing his senses, didn't necessitate subjecting his entire form to incineration—localized scorching proved sufficient.

Observing his somewhat unconventional appearance, Franca—torn between concern and amusement—chimed in with an air of teasing, "Do you have a penchant for masochism? You go through this ordeal every time you engage in combat."

Lumian directed his attention toward the mirror ablaze in Franca's grip and casually responded, "That's how Hunters are."

"I'd be deluding myself if I bought into your fabrications. I'm an Instigator, after all!" Franca had borne witness to prior Pyromaniac skirmishes.

Witnessing their conversational exchange, Jenna deduced that their adversary had been ensnared and the situation had reached its resolution. Thus, she emerged from the concealment of the shadows.

Franca graced her with a smile before turning her attention back to Lumian, relaying, "Hold on for a moment. Don't fret. Guillaume Bénet isn't entirely dead yet. Once the Rebirth effect wanes, he'll morph into a recently expired spirit, his faculties adrift. At that juncture, channeling his spirit will prove less hazardous, and we can be sure he doesn't lie."

Lumian calculated the remaining duration of the Decency brooch's efficacy and remarked, "Let's wait here."

Leveraging the mystical knowledge gleaned from the boon, he discerned that the Rebirth effect endured merely two minutes—its termination was imminent.

Abandoning their current location to embark on a quest for a more secure locale for spirit channeling would necessitate identifying another concealed setting, subjecting Lumian to an additional hour of repulsion before spirit channeling could ensue.

The optimal time frame for spirit channeling would subsequently elapse.

Moreover, Lumian harbored a reluctance to further procrastinate.

Stepping toward the altar, she set the mirror upon the pitch-black ring symbol crafted from thorns, thereby maintaining the enshrouding black flames.

This facilitated Lumian's observation.

Fixated on Guillaume Bénet's pale and ashen visage, ensnared beneath the duality of black flames and ice, Lumian smirked with brilliant satisfaction gradually etched upon his lips. He uttered, "You're truly foolish!

"If I were you, I'd evade and refrain from launching an assault post Steel Body activation, awaiting the adversary's inevitable fatigue.

"Ah, I neglected to apprise you. My spirituality has plummeted below the safety threshold, thereby making spirit world traversal or even utilization of the Spell of Harrumph impossible. I'm barely able to kindle fire, changing my face, and using the brooch. Should you have bided your time, I would've neared my limit and fainted on the spot.

"I acted rashly and reacted relatively slowly towards the end. On the one hand, I didn't want to expend more spirituality and wanted to save them for critical moments. On the other hand, Mirror Substitution consumed Franca's spirituality. On the other hand, heh heh, it was a trap for you.

"Do you remember the flaming flower? Without this 'gift' to complete Bribe, Franca's curse wouldn't have been able to kill you, a Sequence 5…"

Upon hearing the term Spell of Harrumph and recalling Lumian's actions of knocking out two fake Guillaume Bénets in a row, Franca's eyelids twitched in shock and confusion.

Jenna looked at Lumian, who kept mocking the Spirit Body in the mirror, and tugged at Franca with a measure of concern. She whispered, "Perhaps we should attempt to assuage him?"

"No need." Franca shook her head and took the initiative to distance herself from Lumian, giving him a "private" space to vent.

Jenna tersely acknowledged and followed Franca to the edge of the sacrificial hall, casting a lingering glance at the visage of pallid, pale-white and ashen hues reflected within the mirror.

Guillaume Bénet emanated a mixture of hostility, terror, and ultimately—despair.

…

Dill brothel, sixth floor.

On a distant balcony, Albus positioned himself in a discreet corner, his concealed gaze unwaveringly fixed upon Room 602.

Once Lumian and his companions had seemingly "teleported" away, Albus stepped out from his concealment, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

To think a mere Sequence 7 individual wields an artifact that enables traversal of the spirit world?

His connection with Red Boots isn't simple. Whether Gardner Martin is privy to this or remains in the dark, I wonder…

As he muttered, Albus's smile carried a hint of ambiguity and playful intrigue.

…

50 Rue Vincent, underground sacrificial hall.

Lumian's continuous taunting endured until the Rebirth effect gradually subsided, a shadow darkening Guillaume Bénet's eyes.

Meanwhile, Franca, intently calculating the elapsed time, positioned herself near the altar and erected a wall of spirituality, priming herself for the forthcoming endeavor.

With the moment at hand, she softly intoned the incantation, engaging her self-devised Magic Mirror Spirit Channeling Spell.

Yet, just as success appeared imminent, Lumian summoned the Decency brooch's Distortion once again, rerouting the inquiry of the Magic Mirror Spirit Channeling Spell toward himself.

In a final bid for success within a singular attempt, he even invoked the Niese Face, transfiguring into Franca once more.

Almost instantaneously, the mirror's surface dimmed, casting Guillaume Bénet's pale visage into a slightly blurred disposition.

With his capacity to sustain the Niese Face dissipated, Lumian reverted to his original form and shifted his focus back to Guillaume Bénet.

"Who led you to place faith in Inevitability?"

Although Franca harbored a degree of curiosity, she was mindful of the repercussions of Lumian broaching forbidden topics, thus jeopardizing her corruption. Subsequently, she parted the wall of spirituality, positioning herself at a distance from the altar.

Guillaume Bénet, in a somewhat dazed state, responded, "It was Aurore Lee!

"Upon discovering that the faith of an accursed deity was disseminating, she covertly approached me, affirming that I could harness superpowers without supplicating the bishops. Moreover, I was assured of the prospect of obtaining godhood in the future, potentially ascending to the rank of saint and thereby securing eternal life.

"At the time, I remained skeptical. Nevertheless, my curiosity compelled me to withhold judgment. Over time, however, I witnessed her burgeoning might, my reservations gradually subsiding."

After a brief lull, Lumian inquired, his blue gaze intense, "Who influenced Aurore Lee to embrace Inevitability?"

"I don't know." Guillaume Bénet's bewilderment was palpable as he shook his head.

Following a moment of contemplation, Lumian continued his line of questioning, "What profound impression did Aurore Lee leave upon you?"

Guillaume Bénet's countenance shifted, a semblance of recollection mingling with apprehension.

"S-she said that she wasn't Aurore Lee!"

-x-X-x-

She said she wasn't Aurore Lee? Lumian felt as if a bolt of lightning had struck him, his thoughts freezing in their tracks.

In fact, he could deduce that Aurore Lee wasn't his sister's real name. Someone deliberately settling in a border village wouldn't likely use their true identity. Yet, after almost six years together, he could sense that his sister embraced the name "Aurore Lee." She never spoke of her original identity or her past life in his presence. Moreover, the forged identity documents she possessed seemed increasingly genuine. When she rose to fame as a best-selling author, their authenticity was unquestionable.

Why would she suddenly say that?

And how did it tie into her inexplicable faith in the enigmatic existence known as Inevitability?

A sharp ache throbbed in Lumian's head, jolting him back to reality. Anxiously, he inquired, "Did she mention who she was?"

On the mirror-like surface, no longer shrouded in black flames and frost, Guillaume Bénet, pallid and tinged with a bluish hue, responded with a dazed expression, "She claimed to be Roche Louise Sanson."

I've never heard of such a name… Lumian furrowed his brow and probed further, "Did she mention anything else about this identity?"

Guillaume Bénet shook his head.

"Nothing more."

Lumian pressed his left hand against his temple. After a brief silence, he pressed on, "Was Roche Louise Sanson involved in the plot to sacrifice Cordu in exchange for the arrival of the Inevitability angel?"

Guillaume Bénet appeared to wrestle with himself, but ultimately yielded to the sway of the spirit channeling. His response came forth, candid and unfiltered: "No, that was my doing.

"I was driven by the desire to attain godhood swiftly, to ascend as a saint. Aurore Lee initially approved, only to oppose my plan mere hours later. She was indecisive. Eventually, I chose to conceal my intentions from her and made covert preparations. Later on, she seemed to tacitly endorse our efforts, offering aid during critical junctures. Occasionally, though, she resisted and engaged in acts of destruction, yet she'd quickly relent."

The Aurore you depict almost seems schizophrenic… Lumian found himself clinging to the image of Aurore, yet he couldn't escape the memory of the lizard-like, diaphanous elf emerging from his sister's mouth. He recalled her sporadic awakenings, her discussions on escaping their predicament.

But even in those moments of "clarity," Aurore's behavior hardly resembled normalcy. She even overlooked the option of summoning Hela's messenger for swift assistance, the most direct solution out of their ordeal.

Lumian shifted the conversation, asking, "When did Aurore begin propagating the faith of Inevitability in Cordu?"

Guillaume Bénet appeared even more muddled than before.

"My initial investigation pointed to around May or June of last year. After that, she paid me a secret visit."

Seems to be consistent with my suspicions… Something must have transpired back then to corrupt Aurore… If she was an original believer in Inevitability, she wouldn't wait five or six years before proselytizing… Lumian's expression flickered with pain, which he quickly suppressed.

"Have you ever come across diaphanous, lizard-like creatures in Cordu?"

"No," Guillaume Bénet answered truthfully.

"Do you have any knowledge of a figure known as the Sufferer in Cordu?" Lumian inquired further.

Guillaume Bénet appeared taken aback.

"I don't know. No."

Lumian's facial muscles twitched involuntarily.

"Have you observed an owl around Aurore?"

"No," Guillaume Bénet negated again.

Lumian continued to pose inquiries regarding the Cordu catastrophe, yet the answers offered were far from satisfactory. Finally, he probed, "Is there a secret organization or a heretical Church associated with Roche Louise Sanson?"

Guillaume Bénet, his pallid countenance increasingly diffused, finally nodded.

"Yes, it's called Sinners. I now hold the position of one of the Sinners' archbishops."

Sinners… The heretical Church which believes in Inevitability? Lumian's intrigue grew as he delved further.

"Who leads the Sinners, and who acts as the intermediary for you?"

"I'm uncertain of the leader's identity, but he's the sole individual among all the sinners who possesses godhood," Guillaume Bénet's hollow voice responded with an eerie timbre. "The individual responsible for my contact is Bouvard Pont-Péro."

Sole individual possessing godhood… Could it be the Sufferer lurking in my midst? Lumian's mind raced as he continued his probing.

"How can I establish contact with Bouvard Pont-Péro?"

"It's futile," Guillaume Bénet's ethereal voice replied, a hollowness to its tone. "Upon my demise, he will sense the shift in fate and preemptively erase all traces. Transfiguration is one of the abilities granted through a pact. He can become anything, but he is no longer himself."

Can take on any form, but at the cost of his own identity… Prolonged use of Transfiguration might have driven him to complete madness… Perhaps I can visit the asylum and seek out any patients with similar cognitive impairments… I must be careful with acquiring further contract abilities. If there are only three or four negative effects, that's manageable. However, if the list becomes extensive, it not only invites trouble but also provides enemies with exploitable openings… If the padre had encountered a member of the Bliss Society or a bestowed from the Mother Tree of Desire, he would undoubtedly fall victim easily… Lumian gazed at the altar mirror and posed another question, "Why did the Sinners organization send you to Quartier de la Princesse Rouge?"

Guillaume Bénet's indistinct visage lit up with zealous fervor.

"It satisfies my desires and simultaneously serves as a recruitment ground for believers, all in preparation for the upcoming grand ritual. Only by allowing our lord to tread upon this realm can sinners like us seek redemption and baptism, thus escaping our predetermined fates."

"Did the Sinners organization provide you financial support, or did you amass funds independently?" Lumian aimed to trace the origins of the money for potential leads.

Guillaume Bénet shook his head.

"It's an anonymous deposit from Aurore Lee—no, Roche Louise Sanson. The sum totals 100,000 verl d'or."

"Dammit, you swine!" Lumian cursed.

While he had foreseen this, the realization that the padre had been using Aurore's earnings to support a courtesan and sustain a lavish lifestyle for recruiting heretics ignited a seething anger within Lumian.

Suppressing his emotions, Lumian let out a scornful chuckle and stated, "Did the Sinners organization not provide you Beyonder characteristics? Have you never consumed a potion?"

Otherwise, the padre would have been even more formidable and difficult to deal with.

"Beyonder characteristics of the Seer, Monster, Apprentice, and Marauder pathways that Inevitability's bestowed are compatible with aren't easily acquired. I've been searching for them.

"Given the adverse effects those contracted creatures have on me, drinking potions from other pathways would undoubtedly lead to a loss of control on the spot."

Fortunately, my current negative effects remain minimal and feeble. If they were more potent, it could jeopardize my ability to ingest Hunter pathway potions in the future… Lumian's spirituality was dwindling, so he capitalized on the moment to pose one final inquiry.

"What are Sequences 6 to 0 of the Inevitability pathway?"

Guillaume Bénet's voice hollowed further.

"Sequence 6 is Ascetic, Sequence 5 is Fate Appropriator, Sequence 4 is Circle Inhabitant, and Sequence 3 is Sufferer. Beyond that, I am unaware."

Ascetic… It seems akin to the advancement of an Alms Monk… Why didn't Termiboros inform me? Right; as a victim, He will likely have the Ascetic boon extracted from Him in the future. It's only natural for Him to evade answering related queries. If He remained utterly impassive and too willing to provide an answer, I would have grown wary and suspected a trap… Lumian's gaze lifted slightly, his countenance involuntarily contorting.

"What abilities does an Ascetic possess?"

Guillaume Bénet's voice drifted as he responded, "An Ascetic is defined by endurance, accumulation, and eruption. After accruing one's usual strength within the body, it can be momentarily unleashed during combat, rendering the Ascetic akin to a giant. Accumulating ritualistic processes permits the simplification of certain special rituals, making them applicable in combat."

Akin to a giant… A momentary outburst… Lumian recollected the confrontation between Shepherd Pierre Berry and the investigator, Ryan, along with the metallic giant the padre had morphed into.

Had the metalized Guillaume Bénet not been overly cautious of the Spell of Harrumph and abstained from close-quarter combat, constantly maintaining a safe distance and shifting positions swiftly, thereby thwarting Franca's Psychic Piercing, by amalgamating Steel Body with Ascetic, the padre could have likely outmatched Lumian, who needed to use his spirituality judiciously.

This corroborated Lumian's rationale for disregarding the strange creatures that came with the boon's knowledge and opting to identify a contract target from the spirit world bestiary. If he hadn't, the padre would have been able to determine if the Spell of Harrumph was still at Lumian's disposal and gauging his remaining combat strength. In that scenario, his adversary's battlefield decisions would probably have starkly diverged from the ultimate outcome.

Guillaume Bénet had earlier "shared" details of the simplified ritual.

By enveloping an individual in sheepskin through ritualistic accumulation and intoning the incantation, they could be transmuted into a sheep. A cumbersome and intricate ceremony was unnecessary.

Just as Lumian was on the cusp of inquiring about the abilities of a Sufferer, an acute pang surged through his head, thwarting his continuation.

A pang of disappointment ensued, albeit one he could accept. Had Franca not devised the Magic Mirror Spirit Channeling Spell, Lumian wouldn't have been able to amass such a wealth of answers through his line of questioning.

Lumian engaged his Spirit Vision and concluded the spirit channeling. He took deep breaths as Guillaume Bénet's spirit drifted out of the mirror.

Having calmed down, Lumian suddenly extended his right palm, capturing the padre's Spirit Body.

Though his grasp couldn't control the intangible entity, crimson flames surged forth from Lumian's palm, immolating the already fragile spirit of Guillaume Bénet.

Amid the flames, which burned fiercer than the noonday sun, Lumian watched the apparition writhe instinctively, a pained visage etched upon it. A faint smile curved Lumian's lips as he proclaimed, "Praise the Sun!"

Momentarily bewildered, Guillaume Bénet's form swiftly disintegrated within the flames.

-x-X-x-

Lumian's smile gradually softened as he watched the Spirit Body writhing and wailing within the flames.

This was one of the ways the padre died as he had predicted.

Certainly, when he initially ignited the Abyss Demon Flowers, transforming the derelict mine within the Bottle of Fiction into a fiery inferno, he hadn't anticipated Guillaume Bénet's direct incineration.

During that moment, he had relied on his combat instincts and seasoned experience to create an environment that favored his strengths and mitigated his most vulnerable points. The summoning of the Abyss Demon Flowers by the padre had presented an opportunity.

The anesthetic gas produced by the incineration of the Abyss Demon Flowers wasn't his intention. His aim was to battle within an infernal hell.

During that period, his remaining spirituality had been scarce. Nonetheless, a Pyromaniac's resistance to flames significantly outclassed a Fate Appropriator's. Moreover, this resistance was a physical attribute that didn't deplete his spirituality.

As the Bottle of Fiction transformed into a blazing inferno, even the very air could scorch the trachea and lungs. Lumian believed he would ultimately prevail. He could outlast Guillaume Bénet, enduring until the flames extinguished themselves due to lack of fuel.

With his grasp of the Inevitability pathway, and in the absence of unforeseen deviations for Sequence 6 Beyonders, Guillaume Bénet's constitution was merely more robust than that of an ordinary person. His strength lay in his flexibility and tolerance, rather than fire resistance.

Lumian's observations during the Cordu confrontations validated this point. Both Guillaume Bénet and Pierre Berry, individuals who had clearly progressed beyond Sequence 7, exhibited remarkable combat capabilities, albeit lacking commensurate defensive attributes.

Lumian hadn't anticipated the padre contracting the Steel Body ability. This ability possessed pros and cons. On the one hand, it thwarted Lumian's initial plan for an infernal hell. On the other hand, it curtailed the padre's own capabilities, granting Lumian an opportunity to contend more effectively and unseal the entrance to the Bottle of Fiction. This would permit his accomplice to join the fray and offer assistance. Lumian subsequently exploited Guillaume Bénet's determination to eliminate unnecessary obstructions by dealing with Franca first. He then improvised, crafting a lethal snare.

Amidst the sizzle of burning air, Guillaume Bénet's wailing Spirit Body disintegrated swiftly, gradually dissipating.

With the task accomplished, Lumian pivoted, acknowledging Franca and Jenna with a nod, signifying his completion.

In the ensuing instant, he staggered toward the altar, retrieving the skins of cow, sheep, and dog.

These items were whole, exuding a sinister aura upon closer inspection.

These constituted specialized hides, amassed through the initial half of the Animal Creation Spell ritual, harnessed by leveraging Ascetic powers for accumulation. Upon grasping the corresponding incantation and enveloping individuals and oneself with these skins, the Animal Creation Spell could be executed outright.

Although Lumian hadn't yet deciphered the predetermined incantation for animal creation or its nullification, these obstacles could be surmounted in due course. He could, for instance, detain Paulina, the padre's butler, and others to determine if they possessed such knowledge. Alternatively, he could engage a Cryptologist of the Marauder pathway to decode the incantation. He could even resort to trial and error, applying his knowledge of the Inevitability domain and his comprehension of Guillaume Bénet's persona. Last of all, he could use divination to get any clarity on success.

Thus, these two sheepskins, a single cowhide, and two dogskins held considerable value. Employed judiciously, they could unleash unparalleled effects. Guillaume Bénet had nearly beguiled Lumian previously by adopting the guise of a massive, brown-furred dog, attempting to flee Rue Vincent and sever their destined encounter. However, his fanaticism in Inevitability's boon and his greed due to his contract had overridden reason. This led him to transition from prey to hunter, setting a trap in reverse.

When Lumian's body began to sway as if he had lost his footing, Franca and Jenna lent their support, each helping him bear a share of the cow, sheep, and dog skins.

In that instant, the Bottle of Fiction quaked.

Stripped of Guillaume Bénet's reinforcement and subjected to the infernal hellfire for a duration, it eventually fractured akin to ice, its fragments plunging into the void.

The derelict cavern, encompassed by its confinement, unveiled itself to Lumian and his companions through the secret door. All the Abyss Demon Flowers had been reduced to ashes and strewn across the ground. The flames had exhausted their combustibles, and bereft of Lumian's spirituality, most had dwindled to cinders. Only select regions persisted with a crimson luminescence, which was waning steadily.

Lumian glanced at Franca and said, "I'll head back to Rue des Blouses Blanches through Underground Trier. Carry the Earth Blood ore as you make your way to the surface."

Once the Decency brooch was removed, Lumian would inevitably be scorned by those around him. Should he retrace his steps, numerous mishaps could befall him. Alternatively, if he didn't remove it, an alert would be triggered within two to three minutes, attracting the attention of nearby official Beyonders or concealed factions.

Given the potential complications involved in carrying the Earth Blood ore into the underground, coupled with the possible difficulties Jenna might encounter upon receiving it, Franca nodded, pursing her lips, and turned toward Jenna. "Follow Ciel. He's at his limit. He might not even stand a chance against a dog."

"If it's the same dog as before, I wouldn't be able to defeat it," Lumian muttered.

As the exit on the opposite side of the abandoned mine remained unobstructed, a frigid gust swept into the sacrificial hall, dispersing the anesthetic gas with the fragmentation of the Bottle of Fiction. Lumian staggered onward, arriving at the charred remains of Guillaume Bénet.

He kicked the body and turned it over, ensuring nothing was concealed within.

Lumian picked up the iron-gray military alcohol flask and advanced toward the abandoned mine's exit. There, he noticed a brown-furred dog skin that no longer bore a sinister aura.

This particular area had avoided incineration, leaving the dog skin intact. Nevertheless, the process of reconstituting the Animal Creation Spell ritual was mandatory. Only through the application of an Ascetic's ability could it regain its status as a Beyonder item.

Beyond the abandoned mine's exit, two objects were propped against the rocky wall.

One comprised a kerosene-lit lantern, while the other was a dark-green canvas backpack favored by adventurers and mercenaries.

Lumian hoisted the backpack, finding it surprisingly weighty. It was almost too heavy to lift.

Curious, Franca crouched down and unfastened the backpack. Within it lay gratifying gold bars, stacks of banknotes, and golden coins.

"Wow!" Franca exclaimed.

So much money? Lumian's initial thought was: Thank goodness, the padre didn't expend all of Aurore's accrued royalties. This was followed by a rather visceral reaction: F*cking dammit, this man is so sinister!

Evidently, Guillaume Bénet had anticipated the possibility that Paulina and the others might not escape. In such an eventuality, Lumian and his companions could deduce that the padre had chosen an alternate escape route based on the scarce funds carried by these Inevitability believers. Consequently, they would converge on the basement, inadvertently walking into a trap.

"Not too shabby, not at all," Franca remarked, grinning. "While these heretics might not drop characteristics, they do drop other spoils."

Indicating upward with her hand, she continued, "I'm heading back up. Pass me this dog skin."

She relinquished the three ritualistic hides to Jenna and returned to 50 Rue Vincent, clutching Guillaume Bénet's dog skin.

Jenna slung the dark-green canvas bag over her shoulder, gripping the five sinister hides. She observed as Lumian picked up the lantern and kindled it.

After a few strides through the dim tunnel outside the abandoned mine, Lumian promptly removed the Decency brooch and placed it in another military alcohol flask hanging from his waist, sinking it to the bottom of the liquor.

Lumian took a few more steps before suddenly shuddering. He turned around, glancing at Jenna who was trailing behind.

Jenna, clasping the cow, sheep, and dog skins while toting the canvas bag, bore a somber expression, marked by repugnance. She struggled to speak, her voice faltering, "I-I can control myself. Dammit, I won't beat you up!"

Though Lumian was skeptical, he had no choice but to continue his journey.

After seven to eight minutes, he encountered an abandoned tunnel and settled into a corner, awaiting the dissipation of the Decency brooch's adverse effects. He seized the opportunity to rest and recuperate some of his spirituality.

…

The events that transpired at 50 Rue Vincent remained unknown to anyone as Franca methodically erased all evidence and conducted an anti-divination process in the manner befitting a Demoness.

Throughout this endeavor, she combed through every room. Vigilant against potential corruption, she refrained from delving too deeply, though her explorations yielded neither valuable clues nor significant items of interest.

Ultimately, she returned to the parlor on the ground floor, rousing the unconscious impostor Guillaume Bénet.

The imposter Guillaume Bénet gazed at the cloaked figure adorned in a black robe, a brown dog skin clutched within her grasp. For a fleeting moment, he experienced a sensation akin to being trapped within a dream, unable to awaken.

Franca emitted a soft chuckle.

"As you can see, we've killed that devil."

In her eyes, the imposter Guillaume Bénet was no longer identical to the padre. He had become very unfamiliar.

Perhaps this was his true appearance.

"I-I…" The imposter Guillaume Bénet stammered in surprise and elation, "Are you here to aid me?"

"We're Demon Hunters," Franca fabricated. "What else can you tell us about this devil?"

Though her Magic Mirror Spirit Channeling Spell enabled Lumian to glean extensive information from Guillaume Bénet, its reach had limitations. It could not cover every facet. Further inquiry into relevant individuals was imperative to avert the risk of overlooking crucial leads.

The imposter Guillaume Bénet found the shrouded woman before him remarkably affable. He contemplated briefly before responding, "Other than engaging in an affair with my wife and indulging in steak and mutton chops, there's nothing particularly remarkable about that devil.

"Yes… I-it vanishes for one day each week before resurfacing without fanfare."

Disappearing once a week? Franca acknowledged this detail and pursued further inquiries.

Having exhausted the potential for extracting additional information, she smiled and subtly instigated the imposter Guillaume Bénet.

"If I were in your position, I'd hastily depart this location. Your wife is akin to a devil.

"I would relocate any valuable possessions to regions where my identity remains unknown. I'd purchase a new residence, enter a fresh marriage, and embark on a new chapter."

Guillaume Bénet's heartbeat hastened, and his resolve to stand his ground waned.

In the ensuing moment, he observed the woman before him liquefy akin to melting ice.

-x-X-x-

In the abandoned tunnel, Lumian's eyes snapped open.

Unintended slumber had overtaken him, but it also served to rejuvenate his spirituality. At the very least, the pounding in his head had ebbed away, and the searing fire coursing through his veins, organs, and flesh had altogether abated.

Lumian's sight plunged into unadulterated darkness. His hands groped for the lantern that had been snuffed out, and after lighting it, he noticed Jenna. Clad in the guise of a female mercenary, she sat diagonally across from him. She reclined against the tunnel's wall, her gaze affixed to the dark-green canvas backpack and the five ritualistic hides splayed before her.

Sensing the corresponding motion, Jenna looked up at Lumian.

After scrutinizing him for a few seconds, she playfully jested, "Finally, you're no longer as annoying."

Have the negative effects of the Decency brooch been lifted? Lumian instinctively exhaled a sigh of relief.

Jenna's lips curled into a grin as she rose, hoisting the dark green canvas backpack onto her shoulder. She told Lumian, "Earlier, I entertained notions of beating you up and painting your face with dog poop while you slept. But I managed to restrain myself."

"Much appreciated," Lumian said, his gratitude tinged with sarcasm.

With the backpack slung casually over one shoulder, Jenna stooped to gather the five ritualistic hides. Her smile bore an air of leisure as she uttered, "You're welcome."

And with that, she strode toward the tunnel's exit, a smile dancing on her lips.

"Chalk it up to me treating you as a friend?"

You're mocking me again… Lumian grumbled under his breath, picking up the lantern before following suit.

…

Apartment 601, 3 Rue des Blouses Blanches.

Franca, now dressed in her usual attire—a blouse and light-colored breeches—awaited Lumian and Jenna's return.

Her eyes traveled over Lumian's scorched upper body, and a grin formed on her lips.

"Jenna didn't take the opportunity to stab you a few times? Decency's negative effects aren't as potent as I'd imagined."

Jenna interjected before Lumian could respond, "For the first half-hour, it was a real struggle. I had to hide outside the tunnel where he was resting. Every few minutes, I checked for potential threats from below ground, the ceiling, or behind the rock walls. But even then, I seriously contemplated collapsing the tunnel and burying him alive."

That's not what you said just now… Lumian couldn't help but glance at Jenna.

For a moment, he couldn't tell if the Instigator was telling the truth in the abandoned tunnel or if she was telling the truth now.

Franca chuckled and gave Jenna a thumbs-up.

"That couldn't have been easy. You maintained your vigilance, even in a semi-enclosed, deserted tunnel. You anticipated attacks from below, the cave's ceiling, and the very walls surrounding him."

Jenna's brows relaxed, and her smug smile was unmistakable.

"You're always feeding me those horror tales, remember? Like hands emerging from the earth to grab ankles, bloody heads dangling from ceilings, or figures springing from walls to embrace the protagonist."

Every night's entertainment involves retelling horror stories to Jenna? Lumian glanced at Franca, sensing that her intentions might run deeper.

"See? Those stories have their uses!" Franca beamed.

Then she turned her attention to Lumian.

"Need a doctor?"

The burns appeared quite severe.

"No need. For a Pyromaniac, it's merely a minor scrape." Lumian refrained from mentioning that he would be fully recovered by 6 a.m. the following morning. "And if things worsen, I can always seek out Rat."

His nurtured Planter hadn't risen to the ranks of a Sequence 8 Doctor yet, so his assistance was rather limited at the moment.

Observing Lumian's lack of visible discomfort, Franca's concern lessened. She picked up the dark-green canvas backpack Jenna had left on the armchair and prepared to place it on the coffee table to meticulously tally their spoils.

Casually, Lumian pushed aside cups, plates, newspapers, and magazines that cluttered the table, creating enough space.

Glancing around, he noticed the magazine's title: Women.

It was a widely read weekly among middle-class Intisien women, showcasing Trier's latest fashion trends, lifestyle advice, and beauty tips. The Loen Kingdom had its own bootleg version, Ladies Aesthetic.

Lumian raised his head with a smile, and his gaze shifted to Franca, a playful question in his eyes:"Oh, you read such magazines?"

Franca pursed her lips and puffed out her chest in response: "What's wrong with me reading Women?"

After their brief exchange, Franca unzipped the backpack and removed banknotes, coins, and gold bars.

"Roughly 60,000 verl d'or," she assessed after a moment's calculation.

In a little over two months, the padre had managed to deplete 40,000 verl d'or of Aurore's savings. And all that without acquiring Beyonder characteristics or obtaining any mystical items… The more Lumian pondered, the more vexed he grew.

It wasn't that the padre lacked options for mystical items; rather, suitable ones were proving elusive. On the one hand, his status as a heretic warranted caution, limiting his exposure. He didn't frequent many mysticism gatherings, and thus remained ignorant about numerous aspects. On the other hand, his slew of contracted creatures came with many negative repercussions. Several mystical items would be counterproductive or perilous for him. Some might even bring about abrupt, fatal consequences.

Franca pondered for a moment before addressing Lumian and Jenna, "All the gold is Ciel's share. I'll take half of the remaining assets. Jenna, you and Anthony can divide the rest. Let's decide on the distribution once Anthony returns and we see what he's managed to acquire. Does that sound fair?"

This arrangement would allocate around 30,000 verl d'or to Lumian and 15,000 to Franca.

"I'm fine with that," Jenna responded with a hint of concern. "But Anthony still hasn't come back. Dammit, could something have happened to him?"

"If it were anyone else, I might suspect trouble, but Anthony is a Psychiatrist. He's highly skilled in reading people, so falling into a trap is unlikely for him. Plus, he's an experienced information broker. His tracking abilities are on par with mine or Ciel's," Franca explained with a smile. "Most importantly, while waiting for you two, I used Magic Mirror Divination to ensure his safety. Heh, it might actually be a good sign that he's taking so long. It suggests he hasn't lost his target and might have gained something."

"Why do you have to explain so much instead of just saying you checked through divination?" Lumian quipped, finding amusement in the situation.

Franca made a tongue-clicking sound and chuckled.

"You don't get it. This is about not solely relying on divination."

She gestured toward the five ritualistic hides.

"Are those the components for the Animal Creation Spell? Can we use them?"

"At the moment, only I can utilize them," Lumian replied, shaking his head. "And I haven't obtained Guillaume Bénet's preset incantation yet."

Franca's expression showed a tinge of disappointment as she settled into her recliner.

After a few seconds, her smile returned.

"By the way, I've discreetly informed the authorities using my contacts that a wanted criminal is hiding at 50 Rue Vincent. Once Guillaume Bénet's death is confirmed, we should be eligible for a bounty of around 20,000. Should we stick to our initial plan for distributing that?"

Entrusting this task to Jenna wasn't feasible. It could raise suspicions that Lumian Lee was among the people she associated with.

Anthony Reid, the information broker, was the most suitable choice, but his absence raised concerns. Franca worried that further delays might lead the police to uncover the situation at 50 Rue Vincent before they could claim the bounty.

Once Lumian and Jenna acknowledged the plan without objections, the trio settled in to await Anthony Reid's return.

After a few minutes, the seated Lumian leaned forward, fixing his gaze on Franca and Jenna. In a measured tone, he said, "There's a matter I need your analysis on."

With Aurore's affairs, he often found himself grappling with his emotions and straying from rationality. This was why he wanted to hear perspectives from Franca and Jenna.

One of them shared a connection with Aurore, yet their bond was markedly different from Lumian's deep tie with Aurore. The other had no direct involvement, making their viewpoints invaluable in approaching the situation from diverse angles.

"Sure," both Franca and Jenna responded in unison, adopting a professional demeanor by shifting their postures.

For the first time, Lumian recounted the events in Cordu. While he omitted certain details such as the Inevitability angel and anything related to the dreamscape, he provided an overview of the catastrophe. This encompassed Aurore's unusual behavior, Louis Lund, Madame Pualis, Guillaume Bénet, and the rest.

Franca had some prior knowledge, but Jenna was largely unfamiliar with this narrative. As Lumian spoke, the underground singer of Salle de Bal Brise and apprentice actress at Théatre de l'Ancienne Cage à Pigeons found herself transported into a world that seemed both distant and strangely familiar.

While the notion of the Animal Creation Spell was already unnerving, they weren't prepared for concepts like "men giving birth" and "babies scaling walls like birds."

It was madness, utter madness!

Franca's primary concern, however, revolved around Aurore's transformation. She had harbored curiosity about Muggle's death in Cordu but hadn't dared to probe too deeply, fearing it might agitate Lumian.

Franca couldn't believe it when she realized the source of the problem was Aurore. This didn't match her impression of Muggle at all.

Aurore's revelation that she wasn't Aurore Lee in the presence of Guillaume Bénet caught Franca off guard. Her initial surprise morphed into a grave expression.

Soon, Lumian narrated the concluding sacrificial ritual. Aurore's sudden awakening within the altar and her act of shoving him to safety allowed him to survive.

In response to this account, Franca abruptly rose from her seat.

Baffling Lumian and Jenna with her actions, she hurried to her bedroom, returning with a stack of papers in hand.

These were Aurore's grimoires, transcribed by Lumian who harbored a suspicion that something might be awry. He had hoped Franca could offer insights.

The papers were spread across the coffee table, and Franca extracted one sheet, her expression morphing into a blend of trepidation and seriousness. She began, "I think I know what's wrong."

Lumian looked over in surprise and saw that the notebook had a copy of the Warlock spell known as Soul Summoning.

A supplementary spell designed to aid spirits in separating from the flesh or to help Astral Projections find their spirits when adrift in the spirit realm.

Having previously studied the spell structure, Lumian had discerned no problematic elements. It wasn't associated with any evil god.

However, Franca's words carried a weight that demanded attention. Lumian directed his gaze to the spell once more, focusing on the date and its origin.

"April 1, 1357, purchased from the April Fool's Gathering."

-x-X-x-

Lumian withdrew his focus from the grimoire and turned his attention to Franca.

"Is there a problem with that?"

He had meticulously studied the Soul Summoning Spell on numerous occasions. If there had been a problem, he should have uncovered it sooner.

His limitation lay in his inability to learn the spell and discern its ultimate effects. However, as a Pyromaniac, he didn't possess the necessary capacity for such learnings, being incompatible with the corresponding Sequence.

Franca remained silent for a few seconds before speaking up, "What happens when the Soul Summoning Spell is used on others?"

"It enables a spirit to reunite with the body from which it was separated, providing a means to call back Astral Projections lost in the spirit world, thus offering an opportunity for reconnection with their physical forms," Lumian began, describing the spell based on Aurore's grimoire before offering a personal example for clarity. "In the previous battle, if I had been afflicted by Guillaume Bénet's Soul Assimilation Mystic Spell, resulting in severe disorientation, the Soul Summoning Spell might have roused me from unconsciousness. Naturally, the premise here is that there exist Beyonders with the ability to learn and employ this spell."

Franca disregarded Lumian's answer and inquired with gravitas, "What if one were to employ it on oneself?"

What kind of question is that? Lumian pondered for a moment and asked, "It would be ineffective. If no signs of separation between spirit and body are evident, the spell would have no impact when cast on oneself. If there's already a problem resembling such a condition, then one wouldn't be able to employ any spells at all."

"But what if, hypothetically…" Franca began before her words trailed off.

Jenna, observant and quick-witted, glanced at Franca, then at Lumian before rising from her seat and flashing a smile.

"We've been engrossed in discussion for quite a while. Aren't you both feeling hungry? How about I get some afternoon tea?"

"Sure," Lumian agreed on Franca's behalf.

He sensed that Franca was on the brink of revealing something that might be problematic if Jenna caught wind of it. This was why she stopped short in the midst of speaking.

Lumian had already contemplated introducing Jenna to Mr. Fool's faith. They were comrades now, destined for numerous joint endeavors. In such scenarios, certain secrets couldn't be concealed, and in constantly doing so, would inevitably hinder collaboration.

As for whether to share information about the Tarot Club and Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, Lumian hadn't reached a conclusion.

After careful consideration, he determined that preaching to Jenna would be more fitting once she became a Witch. Her Sequence was still too low, and she lacked the strength to shoulder the weight of such knowledge. Too much information could make her vulnerable and inadvertently divulge secrets. However, Sequence 7 Witches of the Assassin pathway represented a qualitative transformation below the demigod tier, empowering Jenna to fend for herself.

While Lumian remained unfamiliar with the Sequence 5 of this particular pathway—its name and the Beyonder powers it encompassed—he believed that a Sequence 6 Demoness of Pleasure didn't manifest a drastic metamorphosis compared to a Witch. The latter could even alter an individual's gender, illustrating the considerable gap in their capabilities.

Franca's gaze followed Jenna's retreating figure until the sound of her gradually fading footsteps reached her ears. She settled into a cross-legged position on the recliner, emitting a soft sigh.

"It's not that Jenna couldn't know about this, but I'm concerned that it might make her fearful of me, that she'll distance herself and view me in a different way."

Lumian didn't pose the question: "Aren't you worried I might react similarly?" He retook his seat, patience etched on his features as he awaited Franca's explanation about the Soul Summoning Spell.

Franca's lips pursed, her demeanor wavering between hesitation and apprehension. After a beat, she chuckled self-mockingly.

"It's also why I sensed a dangerous aura in this matter—otherwise, I wouldn't have even thought about sharing this with you. I would have kept it to my grave. Uh, there's another reason too—your Spell of Harrumph's origins are of great significance to me. I hope you'll lay bare all the details with me, just as I'm about to disclose my secret to you.

"Sigh, we, members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, share one commonality—we all come from another world!"

With that, Franca slouched further into the recliner, seemingly drained of energy.

Observing a Demoness of Pleasure adopt such a posture inadvertently fueled a subtle warmth within Lumian, despite his thoughts being directed elsewhere.

"Another world?" Lumian echoed, genuine surprise coloring his voice.

This was an outcome that hadn't even crossed his mind.

Such a possibility was one that ordinary individuals would scarcely contemplate and a rarity even within the confines of fiction.

In a fleeting moment, he sensed an odd alignment with this notion.

With a conscious effort to rein in his emotions, he inquired thoughtfully, "Is this the 'home' my sister often speaks of—the place she claims she can never return to?"

Initially, Lumian had surmised that his sister's homeland had been ravaged by conflict or catastrophe, hence her assertion of being unable to return. Otherwise, armed with her Warlock strength, she could have surreptitiously revisited, even if she was being pursued by the entire world.

Subsequently, Lumian discovered Aurore's status as a Trierien, causing him to find her references to an enigmatic "home" perplexing.

Franca's expression shifted into one of complex emotions upon hearing Lumian's question. Her countenance was a blend of wistfulness, melancholy, and sorrow.

"Does she frequently speak of 'home'?" Franca inquired, her eyes briefly shuttered to mask the shifting emotions within.

Without awaiting Lumian's reply, Franca's lips pursed, and she continued, "Think of it as another planet or alternate dimension."

Lumian dipped into his memories, muttering to himself, "No wonder she enjoys climbing up to the rooftop to gaze at the cosmos…"

"The cosmos…" Franca echoed with a sigh.

A hushed ambiance enshrouded Apartment 601 as Lumian and Franca delved into their introspective reveries.

After a pause, a memory resurfaced within Lumian's mind.

Madam Magician had mentioned evil gods like the Mother Tree of Desire existing outside our world, separated by a barrier. These entities perpetually seek methods to breach that boundary.

Lumian's gaze shifted toward Franca, and he voiced his thoughts, "Could it be that all of you are spawn of an evil god released into this world?"

"Pfft!" Franca immediately shook off her contemplative state. "Do we look anything like that to you?"

"No," Lumian responded after a brief pondering, "You're far too weak for the efforts of the evil gods to be expended in sending you here. They could have instead focused on sending more of Their saints. Or perhaps They are pinning Their hopes on your potential growth?"

After all, being weak had its own advantages. Infiltration through the barrier would be less likely to be detected.

Amused and slightly annoyed, Franca was tempted to refute his words, but tangible evidence eluded her grasp, leaving her with little recourse.

"In any case, I've come to believe in Mr. Fool. Not one member of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society whom I've encountered shares faith in an evil god."

"Even if they did, they might not reveal it to you…" Lumian muttered.

Franca ignored his comment and continued, "I also remain uncertain about the why behind our transmigration. I've been seeking an answer for quite some time. What I do know is that we arrived in this world as spirits and found ourselves reborn within other individuals' bodies. It's comparable to Guillaume Bénet's process of Rebirth."

Drawing on this analogy, Lumian effortlessly comprehended the situation of Franca and her companions in the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society.

"In other words, you inhabit the bodies of other people?"

"Yes." Franca cast a sidelong glance at Lumian, remarking, "Are you disheartened to learn that the sister you hold dear is essentially a wandering spirit occupying another's body?"

"Why would I be disheartened?" Lumian responded casually. "Aurore Lee, the person who took me in and shared my life in Cordu for nearly six years, is my sister. I care not for the past of that body or its history."

Franca seemed to seek Lumian's perspective on her own behalf, "Don't you find this situation morally dubious? Do you not consider your sister and me as thieves who appropriate the corpses and lives of others? Does this not present you with moral dilemmas or conflicts?"

"I have no morals," Lumian replied calmly.

Expanding upon his statement, he added, "I show kindness to those who are kind to me."

Franca's mouth slightly agape, she struggled to find an immediate rejoinder.

Lumian glanced at her and said, "That person is already deceased. It's a pragmatic use of available resources. If guilt weighs on you, treat her—no, his family well. Perhaps even fulfill some of his unfulfilled desires."

"True." Franca pressed her lips together, nodding in agreement.

Steering the conversation back to its initial trajectory, she inquired, "What might occur if individuals like us were to employ the Soul Summoning Spell on ourselves?"

"Could it summon a departed spirit? And if there's an underlying issue with the spirit itself…" Lumian's train of thought expanded abruptly.

Simultaneously, he recalled a line of inquiry introduced by Madame Hela, the vice president of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society.

"Muggle's parents and other relatives likely remain alive in this world. For some reason, she distanced herself from them and refrains from returning to Trier. It's unclear whether there's something amiss with them or if they've come into contact with heretics…"

Did Madame Hela already harbor suspicions? Lumian's brows furrowed as he whispered,

"Could Roche Louise Sanson be the original boyd's spirit? Is she and some of her family members associated with Inevitability, perhaps even linked to the Sinners organization?"

"Continuing our investigation in that direction is indeed a possibility," Franca admitted after a moment's contemplation. "Two other questions arise. Why did Muggle resort to the Soul Summoning Spell for herself? Did the April Fool's member who sold her the spell foresee this outcome?"

Franca had chosen to share the secret of their transmigration with Lumian, sensing that something might be awry within the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society and discerning an impending threat.

Lumian offered a subdued nod, his expression void of emotion. A subtle smile played upon his lips as he ventured, "You mentioned that April Fool's Day was formed by members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society who are disheartened by the future and seek only joy. Could it be that the individual who sold Aurore the Soul Summoning Spell hoped to experience such amusement?"

Franca fell into a brief contemplative silence before replying, "I don't know. I'll take charge of locating the April Fool's member and delve into their motivations."

Lumian offered a curt acknowledgment. "I'll follow the trail of Roche Louise Sanson."

With the conversation surrounding the Soul Summoning Spell concluded, an interim quiet settled within the living room of Apartment 601.

After a pause, Franca exhaled softly and told Lumian, "You can now tell me about the Spell of Harrumph."

-x-X-x-