49 COI

Pettigrew stood at just over 1.6 meters tall, his disheveled, yellow hair peeking out from under a face mask designed for performances. His right palm was encased in a flamboyant silver glove, and he wore an open brown jacket over a dark shirt.

As Lumian approached, Pettigrew stepped forward, exclaiming in surprise and delight, "Muggle, you've finally reappeared."

Lumian replied with a smile in Aurore's voice, "Something happened some time ago; it took me a while to recuperate."

"Are you alright now?" Pettigrew asked with concern.

"It's alright," Lumian replied nonchalantly, unsure of Aurore's friendship with him.

He turned his gaze to a lady sitting on the stone steps.

The woman donned a black butterfly mask, a white shirt adorned with a bow tie, and a long, dark coat. Pinned to her chest, a clearly typeset paper name tag read: "Professor."

Lumian greeted her with a smile, "Did Associate Professor not make it?"

Associate Professor was a man. A few years back, due to their shared code names, they had met in real life and became husband and wife.

Both were avid Warlocks, delving deep into the study of various spells. Aurore's grimoires contained the Weed Removal spell, courtesy of Associate Professor.

Professor's lips bore a faint hue, and her gaunt face framed her beautiful brown eyes. She simply replied, "He's occupied in the real world, playing host to guests. He couldn't spare the time. Nevertheless, my presence is akin to his; it doesn't alter matters. Muggle, what's the matter?"

Lumian smiled faintly and said, "I want to thank him for his Weed Removal spell."

"What's there to be grateful for? Could it be that your home was overrun by a large number of weeds?" Pettigrew asked curiously.

Lumian mirrored Aurore's expression as he recounted the past. His light-blue eyes darted around as he continued, "Some time ago, I encountered a plant rumored to originate from the Abyss. It not only grew at an astounding rate but also possessed remarkable vitality. It emitted anesthetic gasses and devoured humans like a man-eating flower. Whenever it surfaced, it did so in the hundreds, if not thousands. The Weed Removal spell, however, could wither them all. While it didn't annihilate them outright, it rendered them dormant for a considerable duration."

"Weed Removal works on Beyonder plants?" Professor exclaimed in astonishment.

Lumian nodded and said, "But it's effective only against grass or vine-type plants."

These were the insights Aurore had penned in her grimoires.

It was evident she had conducted experiments with the Abyss Demon Flower of the Padre, meticulously documenting her findings with scholarly dedication, even when her condition was clearly off.

"This is an interesting discovery." Professor held Lumian's hand, delving into the intricacies of the Weed Removal spell.

Fortunately, Lumian had delved deeply into this spell and sought guidance from Franca and Madame Hela. Though he couldn't use it, his knowledge was sufficient for a conversation.

After a lengthy discussion on spells and mystical knowledge with the Academy team, Lumian suddenly sensed a looming presence, casting a shadow over his surroundings.

Raising his eyes, he beheld an immense figure.

This figure towered at an imposing 2.4 meters, draped in a plain linen robe. Its head was concealed beneath a hood, and in its grip, a formidable magic staff, capable of shattering the skulls of ordinary humans, was held.

It was none other than Gandalf, the president of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society. Franca had suggested that he might have reincarnated as a middle-aged man within the Feysac Empire, endowed with a giant bloodline. He had a penchant for liquor and an insatiable thirst for mystical knowledge, yet the nature of his pathway remained an enigma. Sometimes, he displayed traits of the Reader pathway, embodying characteristics of a Savant and Mystery Pryer. At other times, it made people feel that with his physical condition, it would be a pity not to take the Warrior pathway.

High-end mystical knowledge like the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Indestructibility originated from Gandalf.

Oddly, Franca's expression took on a peculiar twist when mentioning Gandalf, as though his code name didn't quite align with his towering stature and imposing presence.

Gandalf, his visage obscured by an eerie shadow, fixed his gaze upon Lumian and gruffly extended a smile.

"You've missed a few gatherings. I was concerned something might have befallen you."

Lumian responded with pursed lips, his momentary sigh and helplessness hidden beneath the surface. "Something did happen, but it's been resolved."

"That's reassuring." Gandalf nodded in relief.

Following a few more courteous exchanges with Lumian, he made his way towards the other teams.

This was Lumian's first time participating in the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society's discussions. Following Madame Hela's counsel, he adopted a stance of speaking less and listening more. Often, he remained in silence.

Throughout this process, Lumian, now seated on the stone steps, observed those who spoke with a faint smile, projecting an aura of extreme attentiveness.

Aurore often employed a similar tactic. When conversing with Madame Pualis and the elderly ladies in Cordu, she would grace the speaker with a warm smile, making them feel truly valued. The discussion might be captivating, but beneath her apparent engagement, Aurore's thoughts would occasionally drift. She would intermittently return to grasp the essential points, safeguarding against potential awkwardness when she needed to respond.

Of course, when it came to discussions of mystical knowledge or striking deals, Lumian remained fully engaged, simply mirroring Aurore's demeanor.

After a while, Lumian found a suitable moment to rise from his spot, signaling his intention to depart from the Academy team's gathering area.

A lady, her face adorned with removable oil paint, exclaimed in surprise, "Aren't you purchasing anything today?"

Do you really need to spend a small fortune at every gathering to find joy, Grande Soeur? Lumian muttered silently and smiled.

"I have two reasons. Firstly, I've recently hit a bottleneck and am more focused on gathering the formula and ingredients for the Scrolls Professor potion…"

He spoke earnestly while analyzing the absence of corresponding requirements. Finally, he said, "Secondly, I'm broke and owe someone a substantial sum."

Members of the Academy team chuckled warmly, their understanding evident.

They had all noticed that Muggle had met with a significant problem during her hiatus from the gatherings, transforming from a well-off individual into someone burdened with debt.

However, they weren't overly concerned for Muggle. Over the past few years, they had witnessed their companion's knack for accumulating wealth.

Gracefully, Lumian made his way to the third pillar on the right of the colossal stone chair, where the Purgatory team congregated. Madame Hela frequently engaged in their discussions.

The lady was already present, albeit with a noticeable reduction in the chill that enveloped her. Under her veiled hat was a blur, revealing only a pale, yet not dismal, white complexion.

Silently, Lumian observed the discussions and dealings of the Purgatory team. After a while, he inquired thoughtfully, "Have any of you heard of an illusory river associated with the domain of death?"

Hela cast a fleeting glance at Lumian but remained silent.

Another member of the Purgatory team, a man bearing the code name Cerberus, pondered the question and responded, "Muggle, why do you ask?

"I've heard rumors of an illusory river deep within the Underworld, within the realm of hell. It's said to be connected to one of the High-Sequence Beyonders of the Corpse Collector pathway."

He actually answered without hesitation and didn't seek compensation for the intel, even though it's only hearsay and not verified fact… Lumian smiled and said, "I've recently been intrigued by the presence of such a river in both the myths and legends of our homeland and here."

He raised the topic indirectly without delving into further details.

Cerberus pondered for a moment before commenting, "This might be rooted in the commonality between the origins of myths and human thought."

Lumian tersely acknowledged with Aurore's voice and didn't inquire further.

He listened for a while longer before turning his attention to a hole in the ancient palace.

With his previous preparations in place, Lumian could smoothly blend into the April Fool's team, allowing him to eavesdrop on their conversations.

As Lumian made his way to the designated location, he quickly reviewed what he had observed and heard.

He couldn't help but notice that his sister, Aurore, had garnered quite a bit of popularity. Both the members of the Academy and the Purgatory team had shown her kindness.

While moving diagonally through the ancient palace, Lumian's attention was drawn to a man with stockings covering his head. This individual leaped onto a broken pillar and addressed the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society members, who were clad in various eccentric outfits.

"Allow me to recite a poem!

"Ocean, you are all water;

"Horse, you have four legs.

"Demoness, you truly taste great!"

This isn't a poem at all… Lumian had already purchased Emperor Roselle's Secret Chronicles, which included jests about the Emperor having a more than friendly relationship with a Demoness. In the diary, he even commented on the taste of Demonesses.

With one step following another, Lumian approached the April Fool's team. He spotted a man with his back turned to him, dressed in a black seer's robe. Behind this figure, an ancient Feysac word was inscribed in golden paint: "Loki."

Franca had mentioned that Loki was a figure from certain legends in their world, associated with lies, mischief, and flames. This member bearing the code name 'Loki' is the founder of the April Fool's team. Although he has progressed on the paths of the divine at a pace not inferior to Hela and the others, he hasn't ascended to the position of vice president… Various pieces of information flashed through Lumian's mind.

He entered the area where the April Fool's team was, and all laughter abruptly ceased.

In unison, Loki and the others turned to face Lumian, who was clad in a half-mask and a black Warlock robe.

As Muggle, Lumian's lips curved into a radiant smile.

"Long time no see, everyone."

-x-X-x-

Facing Lumian's greeting, the dozen or so members of the April Fool's team fell silent.

Among them, several people's gazes and body language gave Lumian the distinct feeling that something was amiss.

There was "Bard" wearing stockings to conceal his appearance, "Hisoka" with a half-mask, vertical red hair, and teardrop and star makeup on his face, "Mad Lady" sporting red, yellow, and white clown paint, and "Ultraman" in comical attire.

Some of these April Fool's team members appeared surprised and puzzled, while others subtly shrank back. Some narrowed their eyes, and others changed their postures, becoming even more vigilant than before.

If Lumian hadn't sought guidance from Psychiatrist Anthony Reid during this time and focused on observing the guilty's reactions when they realized their victim was still alive, he wouldn't have been able to discern these differences so clearly. He might have missed something important.

In contrast, Lumian's earlier suspects, "Loki" and "I Know Someone," had more normal reactions.

The former was the founder and leader of the April Fool's team. If anything unusual occurred within the team, the chances of him remaining unaffected were slim. According to Franca, he was believed to be a member of the Spectator pathway, possibly a Psychiatrist. However, Aurore's understanding of this pathway was notably deficient. Her grimoires didn't align with the details uncovered in the dream.

Dressed in a black circus divination-style robe, Loki obscured his face with the shadows of his hood, seemingly unconcerned about being identified.

After a brief silence, he expressed his surprise, saying, "Muggle, you've reappeared.

"I thought you lost control and went mad after hearing the Hidden Sage's cram school classes, and that's why you haven't attended any gatherings for months."

"Rap, it's rap, not cram school classes," corrected Bard with a smile.

Lumian had learned from Franca that "rap" was a strange form of music that some members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society liked to compare to the ravings of unknown entities.

Muggle's thin red lips curled up slightly in response.

"I did show signs of madness, but I managed it."

In the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, this was a common topic. Many members had lost control for various reasons, turning into monsters or even dying. As a result, Psychiatrists could make a killing by treating their companions' psychological or mental problems during gatherings.

Dressed in a white coat and wearing a bird-beak mask, I Know Someone nodded.

"Last year, I assessed your mental and psychological state. There wasn't much of a problem, but you haven't had regular assessments in nearly a year. You need to be careful. I know someone who was careless and overconfident and ended up in an asylum."

This Psychiatrist appeared normal enough and was genuinely concerned about his patient's condition. However, his membership in the April Fool's team raised some suspicions for Lumian. At the very least, his mental state didn't seem entirely healthy.

As a prankster, Lumian didn't despair about the future or made it his life's mission to seek fun. Having such circumstances would undoubtedly put a toll on their psychological well-being.

Loki didn't press further about Muggle's absence from numerous gatherings. He spread his hands and addressed all the members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society in the April Fool's team's spot.

"Everyone, I've recently come across another transmigrator from history!"

"Who is it?" Bard with stockings blurted out, and the other members turned their attention to Loki.

Taking note of everyone's gazes, Loki gestured meaningfully and continued, "I've obtained ancient texts that mention the existence of an Ancient Sun God in the Third Epoch.

"Haven't we always been puzzled by the scriptures of the various Churches, especially the Eternal Blazing Sun Church? Don't they bear a striking resemblance to the religious texts of our world?

"Now, I believe I've found the answer."

As the leader of the April Fool's team spoke, he tapped his chest four times—top, down, left, right—as if indicating a religion from his homeland.

Lumian's eyelids twitched.

Mr. K had made the same gesture while praying to that entity!

Was it merely a coincidence, or was there an inevitable connection?

Furthermore, wasn't the Ancient Sun God the father of the angel at Salle de Bal Unique?

Loki continued in an exaggerated tone, "Yes, just as you suspect. The scriptures of the various Churches are derived from the Ancient Sun God, but they have different focuses and have altered certain details.

"I've only managed to find a few of that entity's books, but I can confirm they're from our world.

"I hope you can gather more information about the Ancient Sun God and eventually confirm that He too is a transmigrator, possibly even predating Roselle. If you wish to see the books I've obtained, remember to request a trade later. 100 grams of gold or an equivalent currency for a copy is a very reasonable price, don't you think? We're all on the same side, and this discovery holds the key to our hopes of returning home. Otherwise, I wouldn't sell it for such a small amount of gold."

The comical-looking Ultraman let out a sigh and said, "It's all rather pointless. I believe you think that this entity, who has become a deity, must have a better understanding of the world's truth than us. He might have already unraveled the secret of transmigration and the way back. But according to your information, didn't He also fail to return?"

"See the light!" Loki's lips curled up. "And I suspect that the reason that individual couldn't return is because He perished in a divine battle."

"Sounds intriguing," Hisoka, dressed in clothes with poker card patterns, suddenly chimed in.

Loki slowly scanned the members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society and flashed a smile.

"The information about that entity and the ancient books related to it has been deliberately erased, with only a small number of them circulating in secret. Most are hidden underground near the source of power left behind by that entity.

"It's said that in those places, the higher your Sequence, the more dangerous it becomes. It's easier to lose control. Ordinary Beyonders like us stand a chance to approach. Perhaps it holds the truth about the connection between our two worlds and a way to return to our homeland."

At this point, Loki's gaze passed over Lumian's masked face.

Is he subtly encouraging Aurore and the other members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society to venture underground? Lumian maintained his vigilance against any potential "pranks."

However, there was another reason why he sensed a potential issue instantly. Madam Justice had mentioned that the higher one's Sequence, the more dangerous it would be when approaching the Samaritan Women's Spring. She had also explained the nature of the problem.

This led Lumian to suspect that the Ancient Sun God's location mentioned by Loki might be a place similar to the Samaritan Women's Spring. He knew firsthand how perilous and terrifying the Samaritan Women's Spring could be!

Inciting others to explore underground in their quest to return home while avoiding the risks himself, or is this merely a prank that could harm others without benefiting Loki? Lumian glanced at Loki's profile and deliberately interjected, "I've been pondering a similar question lately.

"Why do many myths and legends in this world involve an illusory river associated with the domain of death, just like in our homeland?

"Could it be the result of some senior who transmigrated back?"

Given Lumian's knowledge of Aurore, he knew she couldn't resist getting involved if she caught wind of any leads regarding returning to her hometown. Since he had questions of his own, he needed to steer the conversation away from Loki's direction. Finding a relevant topic was his best strategy.

This was a lesson Lumian and his sister had learned through their battles of wits and pranks over studies, homework, exams, combat, and pranks.

Mad Lady, adorned with red, yellow, and white clown paint, chuckled and remarked, "Human nature, my dear, humans tend to blend their own experiences into myths and legends. In ancient times, they relied on water for survival, so they believed there should be a river in the afterlife. Likewise, when they dug graves, the deeper they went, the more likely they'd encounter an underground river."

Lumian, emulating Aurore's tone, responded, "Your explanation is quite scientific, but I think it lacks mysticism. And if we aim to return, mysticism might be just what we need."

He recounted the legend of the River Styx, which he had recently acquired from the Purgatory team, and concluded, "I believe this could also be a path worth exploring."

Loki's face remained hidden in the hooded shadows as he chuckled and remarked, "Although the Underworld should be somewhere in the spirit world, I believe it must be closely related to the underground. In numerous folklores from the Northern and Southern Continents, 'hell' is often depicted as being hidden underground.

"That's why our investigation needs to be centered on the underground. Whether it's the remains of the Third Epoch's Ancient Sun God or issues related to the River Styx, we must delve deep underground to truly connect with these mysteries."

Lumian couldn't help but mutter to himself, You just want everyone to meet their end faster…

He pretended to be engaged and continued sharing information about the Ancient Sun God, underground exploration, and the River Styx with Loki, I Know Someone, and the other members of the April Fool's team.

After almost twenty minutes of conversation, Lumian decided to step away from the April Fool's team's vicinity.

He had already sensed abnormal reactions from at least four members of the April Fool's team. The next step was to leave this to Hidden Blade Franca.

If there was indeed something awry with the April Fool's team, they would be highly cautious when dealing with Muggle. They wouldn't readily engage or probe, fearing they might fall into a trap.

Their primary objective should be observation and indirect information gathering at this point.

When it came to Hidden Blade, they could play pranks without reservations. Later on, Franca could use those pranks as an excuse to locate the April Fool's team members in the real world and confront them individually. She could win the support of other members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society. Whether they could extract any significant information during these confrontations remained to be seen.

As Lumian took a few steps away from the gathering, he spotted the 2.4-meter-tall president, Gandalf, approaching the massive stone chair and addressing the group with a resounding voice, "Everyone, I have something important to discuss."

-x-X-x-

Lumian halted and turned his attention toward the president of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, who was dressed in a linen robe.

The nearly half-giant Gandalf didn't require mechanical contraptions or mystical techniques to project his voice throughout the ancient palace.

"I just had a conversation with Isotope and noticed a matter that deserves our attention.

"He mentioned that ever since advancing to Sequence 6, he's been encountering Beyonders more frequently and getting involved in Beyonder affairs.

"This aligns with my general observations over the past few years. You know I enjoy talking to every member and asking about the additional changes brought about by superpowers. For me, I've delved deeper into the paths of the divine than most, gaining a profound understanding.

"Having said that, I want to share a conclusion.

"There are almost no exceptions. As Beyonders progress in Sequence, the frequency of mystical matters involving them significantly increases. At Sequence 9, this phenomenon isn't prominent. But starting from Sequence 7 or even Sequence 6, even those who typically don't pay much attention to such matters will feel that they are constantly encountering Beyonder events.

"Let me illustrate with numbers. At Sequence 9, the assumed number of Beyonder incidents or encounters with other Beyonders each season is 1. This can easily slip under the radar during mysticism gatherings and small circle activities you participate in. It's challenging to pinpoint precisely. Now, at Sequence 8, it's 2. For Sequence 7, it might surge to 5 or 6. In other words, one may come across one or two Beyonder incidents or unfamiliar Beyonders once or twice a month.

"Do you have any thoughts or speculations about this phenomenon? Can you discern the cause? Perhaps there are fundamental laws of mysticism at play."

Lumian fell into a daze.

Isn't this the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Convergence?

This transmigrator, code-named Gandalf, possessed a sharp investigative spirit. He was astute in noticing even the smallest details and had actually uncovered the outward signs of the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Convergence!

He was also the one who had suggested that advancing to Sequence 9 and Sequence 8 in recent years would be easier than before, even allowing for the direct consumption of Beyonder characteristics. He had provided a more precise assessment of the increased risk.

A research-focused talent… Lumian sighed, using Aurore's usual terminology.

For someone like him, with an evil god's angel sealed within and a deity-level aura shrouding him, the manifestation of the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Convergence was so intense that it couldn't be ignored. Anyone would recognize the problem.

What do you mean one or two Beyonder incidents a month?

It's practically every week!

Including the Beyonders he had encountered, it could be said to be a daily occurrence!

However, at times, Lumian felt that the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Convergence hadn't fully played its role. Only by attracting members of the Sinners organization and Roche Louise Sanson's family to Avenue du Marché and coincidentally meeting them would it qualify.

Perhaps the power of a boon wasn't as potent as the convergence of Beyonder characteristics, or perhaps Termiboros's seal had mitigated the effect. In any case, his desire remained unfulfilled.

As someone who had taken his sister's place at the gathering, Lumian refrained from approaching Gandalf directly and offering a substantial price for information on the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Convergence.

Casually scanning the area, he noticed Madame Hela and Hidden Blade Franca remaining silent, listening to the discussions among members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society regarding this phenomenon.

Lumian knew that Franca was familiar with the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Convergence. With Hela's concealed knowledge from her exploration of the Samaritan Women's Spring, she should have observed such a phenomenon.

They didn't explicitly mention the term "convergence" due to their different motivations. For Franca, as long as she didn't seek to ascend to godhood, immediate understanding of the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Convergence wasn't necessary. She just needed to recognize the corresponding phenomena and avoid risks. The specific details could be sold at the gathering when she needed funds and gained Madam Judgment's approval.

As various groups engaged in fervent discussions about President Gandalf's topic, Lumian made his way toward the Academy team.

As Lumian continued on his path, he spotted Hidden Blade Franca approaching.

"Muggle? You're finally back at the gathering! I was genuinely worried something had happened to you!" Franca's expressions were slightly exaggerated, but it was well within the norm for her. In the eyes of all the members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, she was known for her rich emotions and her love for interacting and experimenting.

Lumian pursed his lips and offered a smile.

"Something did come up, but it got sorted out."

Impressive mental resilience. He didn't react strongly when the Cordu disaster was mentioned. Franca looked at Muggle's exposed lower face with curiosity and asked, "What happened?"

"A mysticism catastrophe," Lumian replied, taking on a resistant demeanor.

Franca knew when to change the subject and shifted the conversation with a smile.

"Just a while ago, in the April Fool's group, Loki mentioned that he stumbled upon another ancient transmigrator known as the Ancient Sun God." Lumian took the initiative to bring up his conversation with April Fool's. "Mad Lady, Hisoka, Bard, and Ultraman are a bit skeptical."

Mad Lady, Hisoka, Bard, Ultraman… Franca and Lumian shared an unspoken understanding. She immediately grasped his intentions—take note of the four April Fool's team members Lumian suspected of being problematic.

Including Loki and I Know Someone, who were often discussed as potential suspects, there were now a total of six individuals.

"Is that true? Besides Emperor Roselle, are there other ancient transmigrators?" Franca asked with genuine excitement.

She wasn't faking it. She had always been interested in ancient transmigrators.

Seeing the opportunity, she bid Muggle farewell and approached the area in the palace where the April Fool's team was located.

Lumian returned to the Academy team and listened as Professor, Isotope, and Pettigrew discussed the mysticism experiences they had encountered.

The gathering had a strict two-hour time limit, but attendees could leave at any moment. They simply needed to recite an incantation, changing the last sentence to "I beseech your permission to leave your kingdom," and they would return to their original location.

Many members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society chose to depart early after conducting their business and sharing their concerns, to prevent any accidents from occurring in the real world. However, a significant number of members opted to stay.

For them, the opportunity to interact with people who shared their unique origins and not worry about accidental disclosures of their secrets was a pleasure. Even if their conversations veered into trivial topics, it still improved their emotional well-being and provided relief for their mental and psychological states.

Lumian believed that his sister had found these gatherings quite relaxing. Thus, he partly attended to impersonate her and show no difference while also enjoying the atmosphere on Aurore's behalf, patiently remaining until the end.

Vaguely, he sensed that his emotions were becoming more sensitive and easily stirred. It was as if Aurore's soul fragment had risen to the surface and was affecting his psyche.

As the gathering drew to a close, Professor, wearing a shirt with a bowtie, turned her attention to Lumian and inquired, "Muggle, are you still residing in the south?"

Hmm, she's not referring to a specific country… Does she know that Aurore is in Intis? Lumian's thoughts raced as he responded candidly, "No, I've already moved to the Trier greater region."

A smile curved on Professor's lips.

"Associate Professor and I are also residing in Trier. Would you be interested in an offline gathering?"

"I'm in the Trier greater region as well," Pettigrew chimed in eagerly. Periodic Table and Isotope nodded in agreement.

An offline gathering… Aurore did occasionally go out for a few days in the past. Could she have attended a real-life gathering with Professor and the others? Different circles have different styles. Franca and her associates have a telegram group, and these individuals from the Academy participate in real-life gatherings depending on the region? Lumian pondered for a moment and replied, "Another time. After I've sorted out some personal matters."

He intentionally brought up certain personal matters, hoping that this information might reach the April Fool's suspects like Loki and Mad Lady.

"Alright." Professor and the others acknowledged. After all, Muggle had previously revealed that something had occurred to her.

…

"A Beyonder from ancient times, the ruler of the Nation of the Evernight, the noble Mother of Heaven, I beseech your permission to leave your kingdom."

With each repetition of the incantation, the figures in the ancient palace gradually faded away.

When Lumian regained consciousness, he found himself back in the safe house on Rue du Rossignol.

How magical… Compared to this, Mr. K's mysticism gatherings are like comparing my safe house to Emperor Roselle's summer palace. They're on entirely different levels. The contrast is quite significant… Lumian sighed and returned to his original appearance.

He wasn't in a rush to write to Madam Magician to report the Armored Shadow's response or to inquire about the Ancient Sun God. Instead, after changing his clothes, he headed straight to 3 Rue des Blouses Blanches and knocked on the door of Apartment 601.

Jenna had gone to visit her brother and wouldn't return until the next morning. Franca sat in a recliner, muttering as if cursing someone.

"What's bothering you?" Lumian asked as he settled onto the divan.

"That rascal Loki. I wanted to buy some information from him, but he told me others could pay with gold, but not me," Franca replied indignantly. "He said he wanted to experience the taste of a Demoness. Damn it, why didn't he drink the potion and become a Witch himself? After I cursed him, he claimed it was a joke and sold me the ancient information."

She chuckled after recounting the encounter.

"Although there's a special barrier in the gathering venue that prevents us from tracing the ownership and location of the items we trade, the essence of the items can't be concealed. Regarding the copy of the information, it includes details such as the type of paper, which factory it originated from, the model of the mechanical typewriter or printing machine used to produce it, and even the approximate location. This could provide some clues. It might help us locate Loki in the real world. Of course, that's assuming he hasn't taken any anti-divination measures, misdirection, or hidden anything."

As Franca spoke, she took out a mirror and prepared for Magic Mirror Divination.

After reciting the incantation, the mirror darkened, accompanied by the faint sound of water.

Franca held the copy of the information she had obtained from Loki and inquired thoughtfully, "Where can we find the mechanical typewriter used to create this information?"

Within the mirror, an aged voice responded, "Trier, Alone Bar."

-x-X-x-

Alone Bar? Lumian was taken aback by the answer.

Isn't this a little too coincidental?

Lumian's impression of the Alone Bar was that it stood diagonally opposite Salle de Bal Unique. In the basement, there was a theater for marionette shows. The lighting was dim, and the colors were dark, giving it a slightly sinister appearance.

Initially, he didn't see it as a problem, but now that he knew that the monocle-wearing patrons of Salle de Bal Unique were in a superimposed state of being "Amon" and "Not Amon," he believed that the Alone Bar, which could compete with this dance hall and survive, wasn't simple.

Moreover, he had once observed Leah from Bureau 8 entering the bar. He suspected it to be Bureau 8's covert hideout, designed to keep an eye on the Amons at Salle de Bal Unique.

Could Loki also be a member of Bureau 8, a true official Beyonder?

Or was it possible that he merely resided in Quartier de l'Observatoire and recognized the uniqueness of Alone Bar? Was that why he used the mechanical typewriter there to create a copy of the information, preventing anyone from tracing it back to him?

"What's the matter?" Franca watched Lumian furrow his brow and plunge into deep thought. After a prolonged silence, she extended her right hand and waved it in front of his eyes.

Lumian contemplated for a moment and said, "There's a significant issue with this bar."

"You're familiar with this bar?" Franca looked surprised.

This man appeared to harbor many secrets she was unaware of!

A soft chuckle escaped Lumian's lips.

"We'll need to start with Madame Hela and me searching for the Samaritan Women's Spring."

Franca was taken aback. "How many times do I need to have you give out every detail? Are you a tube of toothpaste, giving out a little with each squeeze?"

"The focus was on the situation at the Samaritan Women's Spring, and this all happened along the way," Lumian explained, without feeling embarrassed.

Starting from his encounter with the Islander swindler, Monette, and his repeated scares, he connected Charlie being swindled, the uniqueness of Salle de Bal Unique, and Madam Magician's connection to Amon. Finally, he mentioned that Alone Bar was diagonally opposite Salle de Bal Unique, and an official member of Bureau 8 had once entered and exited.

Franca felt like she was listening to a ghost story. She subconsciously wanted to hug a pillow, but there was none on the recliner.

Quickly shaking off her daze, she straightened her back, trying to maintain an expression that suggested a "true man" wouldn't be frightened by such a terrifying incident.

All this was used to torment Jenna!

After Lumian finished speaking, Franca hissed and said, "You've had quite the array of experiences. You've even encountered an old monster that only exists in horror stories."

"It's for your own safety. If you didn't suspect anything when you encountered him, he wouldn't pay you any attention. But now, if your demeanor changes when you see him, he might become suspicious and involve you in his Parasitism," Lumian warned, half-scaring Franca.

She pushed aside her fear of the Amons and steered the conversation back to the main topic.

"This all ties into the Alone Bar. Investigating it in the future is going to be very challenging…"

Franca suddenly had an imaginative guess.

"Do you think Loki has already been parasitized by an Amon?"

Lumian struggled to follow Franca's train of thought and responded, "Huh?"

Franca continued, her tone grave, "Consider this. The books and legends of the Ancient Sun God have been missing for two to three thousand years, and since the Churches of the Seven Gods' bibles are copied from Him, they must have erased relevant information. How did Loki come by this information?

"While there are various possibilities, if he is indeed Amon, it would make sense. No one knows His father's situation better than Him.

"As a child of a transmigrator, not to mention that He can obtain Loki's memories through Parasitism, even if He can't, He can perfectly act as our companion. You also mentioned that He enjoys deceit and has frightened you a few times. This is very similar to Loki's usual behavior.

"And when Amon from Salle de Bal Unique created the duplicate, he deliberately went to the Alone Bar diagonally opposite to use a mechanical typewriter to mislead potential tracing. This also fits with this style."

Franca's bold imagination surprised Lumian. After a moment of thought, he responded, "This does explain why this information oddly points to the Alone Bar.

"Under the guidance of this evil angel, the April Fool's team gradually felt despair for the future and pursued their own joy. It was a reasonable development for them to start targeting other members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society.

"However, Amon wouldn't intentionally lead the information to the Alone Bar, as that would naturally make investigators suspect Him, who resides diagonally opposite…

"Perhaps He anticipated the investigators' thoughts," Franca countered.

Lumian shook his head slowly.

"If it were Amon, your divination would have been misled or you wouldn't have received an answer.

"Yes, regardless, this is indeed a possibility. I plan to visit the Alone Bar for a drink in the next two days and investigate the situation on the ground, but I won't delve further."

Franca acknowledged his words tersely and sighed.

"In truth, I also realize that the likelihood of Loki being parasitized by an Amon is very low. Our primary purpose in attending the gathering is to transition into a special state. In this state, the Sealed Artifact borrowed from Madame Hela should be able to detect any abnormalities in each member's bodies. It won't transform the corresponding object and leave it where it is.

"Sigh, I'm just finding excuses for myself. It's not wise for us to pursue Loki without substantial evidence and strong suspicion.

"It makes me feel like I've betrayed the Research Society and my companions. That's why I hope that Loki was indeed parasitized by Amon. That way, I won't experience a similar sense of guilt. I'd be helping the Research Society eliminate hidden dangers."

Filtering abnormalities in the body by entering a special state and attending the gathering? But nothing happened to Termiboros… Lumian wondered if it was because Mr. Fool's seal was unique or if Madame Hela's Sealed Artifact lacked the ability to filter abnormalities and guard against parasitic angels like Amon.

However, he didn't voice any objections at the moment and instead smiled.

"In my view, there's definitely something amiss with Loki. It's just a question of whether it's a major or minor issue.

"He did," Franca confirmed. "He also mentioned that in such places, the higher the Sequence, the more dangerous it is. It's easier to lose control. Only Low-Sequence Beyonders like us can approach it."

"That's only a relative perspective. Did you find it dangerous when I explored the Samaritan Women's Spring earlier?" Lumian inquired.

"It was extremely dangerous," Franca acknowledged, knowing much about the matter.

And you don't even know that the Blood Emperor's apparition nearly caught me… Lumian muttered, "Searching for the remnants of the Ancient Sun God will likely be even more dangerous.

"If Loki doesn't make an attempt, he'll be essentially using you as cannon fodder by encouraging you to explore underground. And if he does try, he'll inevitably be corrupted and gradually mutate. He lacks the purification of a great existence like Mr. Fool.

"So, it's crucial to locate Loki as soon as possible. It's in both your and his best interests."

Franca bit her lip and agreed, "You're right. Loki clearly has malicious intentions in this matter. The other members of the April Fool's team might be curious and willing to participate, but I believe they're cooperating with him."

After persuading Franca, Lumian asked curiously, "Tell me, the prerequisite for entering the gathering is to enter a special state. What state is it?"

Franca, no longer hesitating, shared eagerly, "I've asked my Major Arcana card holder about it before. Although I couldn't reveal the incantation or provide a detailed description of the gathering, she speculated that it involves a 'Concealment' power based on my description and its effects."

"Concealment" power… Lumian nodded.

It was indeed well-concealed. Even the incantation had been hidden, preventing anyone from discovering it.

Franca went on, "The power of Concealment is associated with the Evernight pathway, which is the divine pathway controlled by the Evernight Goddess Church."

She lowered her voice and added, "I suspect that Madame Hela is affiliated with the Church of Evernight."

"Similar to 007?" Lumian inquired. He hadn't encountered 007 today, as too many people had participated in the gathering, and he didn't know the usual attire or team of 007.

Franca tersely confirmed his assumption.

"Something along those lines, but she may hold a more significant position. She's at a higher level and has access to more concealed knowledge."

Recalling Madame Hela's actions in obtaining the Samaritan Women's Spring, Lumian couldn't help but agree with Franca's assessment.

Indeed, the lady possessed a wealth of secret knowledge. Moreover, she wore a black diamond ring that clearly exceeded ordinary mystical items and was suspected to possess godlike powers.

Additionally, the Sealed Artifact she had borrowed to convene the gathering was beyond Lumian's imagination.

In a casual manner, Lumian asked, "What are the primary manifestations of the Evernight pathway's powers?"

According to Aurore's grimoires, the first three Sequences of this pathway were Sleepless, Midnight Poet, and Nightmare. They primarily involved enhancing spirituality, increasing mental strength, reducing the need for sleep, the mystical application of poetry, and the unique ability to induce sleep in others.

Franca thought for a moment and replied, "The power of Concealment, command over spirits, and the ability to create realistic dreams…"

Realistic dream… Lumian was taken aback by the answer.

He couldn't help but recall the realistic dream he had experienced in the ruins of Cordu.

-x-X-x-

At the conclusion of the Cordu disaster, Lumian found himself not only grappling with the seal within his body and the fading aura of Inevitability surrounding him, but he had also been thrust into a vivid, lifelike dream. Surprisingly, even the investigators, Ryan and the others, succumbed to an uncontrollable slumber as they entered a specific area, becoming entangled in his dream.

During that time, Lumian, who was still unfamiliar with the intricacies of mysticism, failed to sense anything amiss. It was only later, when he enlisted the help of Mr. Poet to decipher the symbolic meanings woven into the dream, that he realized its origins were not tied to Termiboros's power or Mr. Fool's seal. It had a different source, one that conveyed protection and solace.

Ever since that moment, Lumian had tirelessly pondered the origin of this lifelike dream, but he had never unearthed a definitive answer. The possibilities were endless. However, with Franca's detailed account of the Evernight pathway and his own experiences at the gathering, a sudden revelation struck him.

The Evernight pathway, known for inducing nightmarish visions, could also weave the fabric of realistic dreams!

Could it be that Madame Hela, upon learning of Aurore's tragic fate in Cordu, had arrived too late to intervene directly? Perhaps she had resorted to employing the power of a Sealed Artifact to draw me into the lifelike dream, an attempt to provide solace for my tormented soul?

No, there's no need for her to hide this from me and feign ignorance. What's there to hide?

Moreover, if she were responsible, there would be no lingering traces of slumbering power left behind…

Could it be that the continuous use of the incantation involving Concealment powers during the gatherings somehow marked or corrupted Aurore with the Sealed Artifact's influence? When her body disintegrated, the Sealed Artifact sensed the disturbance and, albeit unsuccessfully in saving her, led me into the realm of this lifelike dream?

Yes, it makes sense. Leah and the others were compelled to slumber on the blood-colored mountain peak, situated near the sacrificial ground, close to the three-headed, six-armed giant. This aligns with my theory. The source of the dream's power is intricately tied to Aurore's fate…

Franca observed Lumian's prolonged silence, realizing he was deeply engrossed in contemplation. She wisely refrained from interrupting, allowing him to return to the present before gently inquiring, "What thoughts have crossed your mind?"

"Do you recall the Cordu disaster I mentioned? There's an area around the sacrificial ground, which became the blood-colored mountain peak. Anyone who ventured into it fell into a deep slumber and experienced a realistic dream," Lumian explained succinctly.

The more Franca absorbed his words, the more astonishment and trepidation filled her.

"Could it be that there's something wrong with Madame Hela too?"

"I don't think so." Lumian shook his head in response and outlined the crucial aspects of his conjecture.

Relief washed over Franca, and she couldn't hide her emotions.

"This theory does seem to fit the circumstances."

"Right, did you notice? The initial part of the incantation features a three-line honorific name. This implies that the Sealed Artifact either possesses characteristics of a living entity or was once alive. It's reasonable for it to instinctively influence those who beseech its power."

After careful consideration, Lumian recognized the validity of this point.

The two of them continued their conversation, ultimately deciding that Lumian should find a suitable time to pay a visit to the Alone Bar.

…

Returning to the Auberge du Coq Doré, Lumian drew the curtains and settled at the table. Bathed in the soft glow of the carbide lamp, he began composing a letter addressed to Madam Magician.

The letter primarily centered around the Armored Shadow's performance and its response. Lumian was particularly interested in gathering information about the Ancient Sun God and its connection with the Aurora Order.

However, mindful of the late hour, he decided to wait until he "naturally" woke up in the morning, had his breakfast, and then sent the letter.

At noon, Lumian received a reply from Madam Magician, and he felt a sense of satisfaction for having purposely returned to Room 207 of Auberge du Coq Doré.

"The Armored Shadow's response and its current condition offer us valuable insights into the situation regarding ____."

Lumian was taken aback by the first sentence.

His gaze fixated on the blank portion of the sentence, uncertain whether Madam Magician had intentionally injected humor into her letter or if some form of distortion had affected the message.

Drawing from his knowledge of Magician, Lumian's initial assumption was that she had initially composed the entire sentence but later realized that certain information couldn't be disclosed at this moment. Instead of redacting it or starting anew, she had employed some mystical means to erase the phrase.

Why can't I be privy to this information? It's merely another world, right? Lumian mused as he proceeded to read the subsequent sentence.

"While this is a valuable acquisition, its immediate utility may be limited, though Mr. Hanged Man will undoubtedly be pleased.

"In due time, when he deems it appropriate, he might get you to summon the Armored Shadow once more. He will be responsible for providing compensation in gold for the chance to pose inquiries.

"Let him determine the questions. Your role is to facilitate the communication, and the Two of Cups will handle translation. Oh, and do not forget to request a reward from Mr. Hanged Man."

Mr. Hanged Man… Lumian repeated the code name, his eyes continuing to scan the contents of the letter.

"The Ancient Sun God's problem is complicated, and my knowledge on the matter is limited. At this juncture, I can only offer this: He was the ruler of the Third Epoch, the one who brought an end to the tyrannical reign of the brutal ancient gods and ushered in an era of light for humanity.

"The entity revered by the Aurora Order maintains a complicated connection with Him. Understanding this connection carries risks. Consider Him as the inheritor of half of His legacy, while the other portion is shared among select members of the seven deities. This division directly gave rise to what we commonly term the Age of the Gods, also known as the Fourth Epoch."

If remnants of history, legends, documents, and artifacts were still available from the Fourth Epoch, the prior Third and Second Epochs existed mostly within the scriptures of various Churches, veiled in almost mythical obscurity. Lumian possessed only scant knowledge, recognizing the Third Epoch as the Cataclysm Epoch and the Second Epoch as the Dark Epoch.

In Madam Magician's words, Lumian sensed the majesty and allure of ancient history unfolding before him.

The brutal ancient gods, the Ancient Sun God who ended humanity's dark age, the ruler of the Third Epoch whose demise remains shrouded in mystery, and the Age of the Gods that emerged from His corpse…

Why would such an ancient deity give birth to someone like Amon? And who is Amon's mother? Could there be a connection between Amon and the figure revered by the Aurora Order? The more Lumian contemplated this, the more he discerned problems with the Ancient Sun God's method of raising offspring.

He harbored a favorable impression of this deity, not only because of His role in ending the dominion of the ancient gods and offering humanity a glimmer of hope, but also due to the suspicion that He might be an earlier transmigrator from the same world as Aurore and Emperor Roselle.

Simultaneously, Lumian began to understand why Mr. K and the Aurora Order held such vehement disdain for heretics. The one they revered was the rightful heir to the legacy of the Ancient Sun God.

A flame erupted, igniting the letter in Lumian's hand.

He tidied up and fastened the silver Lie earring, making subtle adjustments to his appearance to ensure he bore no resemblance to Lumian Lee.

With that done, he removed Lie and slipped it into a concealed pocket.

His recent insights indicated that his transfigurations from Lie wouldn't end when he was separated from Lie. It was a flesh-and-blood reconstruction. If he wanted to return to his original state, he had to use Lie to adjust it again.

Lumian grabbed his satchel and left Auberge du Coq Doré.

On his way to Avenue du Marché, he heard the chime of a bell, signaling that it was 1 p.m.

Lumian retrieved the golden pocket watch he had borrowed from Salle de Bal Brise and synchronized it with the distant tolling of the bell.

The pocket watch would lose a minute every few days.

After a journey of more than half an hour, Lumian arrived at Rue Ancienne.

His steps led him toward the Alone Bar, and his gaze naturally drifted across Salle de Bal Unique.

At that moment, the establishment had yet to see many customers. Three guards, each sporting a monocle over their right eyes, lounged in various corners, engaged in sporadic conversations or drifting into daydreams.

A postman in a distinctive blue uniform adorned with floral patterns parked his bicycle by the roadside and approached Salle de Bal Unique's mailbox, clutching a stack of letters.

Like the guards, he too wore a monocle on his right eye.

An inexplicable shiver coursed through Lumian's scalp, prompting him to avert his gaze and continue his course into the Alone Bar.

Inside, the dimly lit atmosphere persisted, casting a shadowy ambiance even at noon. At present, Lumian found himself the sole patron.

The bartender stationed behind the bar counter was not the same individual as before. Instead, it was Leah, the Bureau 8 investigator, whom Lumian recognized!

She was attired in a white shirt, a bow tie, and a black knee-length dress. Her hair had been elegantly tied into a simple bun, adorned with tiny silver bells—a departure from her previous appearance, exuding a distinct charm.

"Gin on the rocks," Lumian stated as he settled onto a barstool at the counter, tapping the surface lightly.

A chuckle escaped him as he continued, "Why do we have a new bartender?"

Leah cast a playful glance in his direction and quipped, "Monsieur, there's no strict rule that dictates a bar must employ only one bartender. That would surely lead to their exhaustion."

"Fair enough," Lumian agreed, paying eight licks for his drink and patiently awaiting the arrival of his iced gin.

After savoring his beverage for nearly ten minutes, he casually inquired, "Is there a typewriter available here? I've just remembered a document I need to complete."

Leah, wiping a glass, responded, "In the room next to the theater in the cellar, there's a typewriter reserved for scripts. It costs 2 licks and 1 coppet for each sheet of paper."

"That's quite pricey…" Lumian muttered as he rose and entered the cellar with his glass of gin.

He steered clear of the marionette theater, harboring some lingering unease from his previous encounter. Instead, he ventured into a nearby room.

There was indeed a brass mechanical typewriter here, and a man engrossed in reading a newspaper beside it.

Lumian, in line with his prior preparations, proceeded to type out a brief document.

Some of the worn letters on the typewriter matched the information provided by Loki with uncanny precision.

Satisfied with his work, Lumian offered payment to the silent man for his use of the typewriter and paper before promptly exiting the somewhat eerie basement room.

As he returned to the bar's lobby, he was abruptly met with fugue, as he heard the faint chime of a bell.

Lumian swiftly regained his composure and directed his gaze towards Leah, noticing that she displayed no signs of alarm or surprise.

"Did you hear the bell?" Lumian inquired, placing his glass on the bar counter.

Leah furrowed her brow. "The hour has not yet struck. Why would the bell toll?"

Suppressing his bewilderment, Lumian finished his drink and departed the Alone Bar.

While passing Salle de Bal Unique, he observed that only two guards with monocles remained stationed at the entrance. The postman was conspicuously absent.

Without further ado, Lumian continued down the street, putting distance between himself and the establishment.

As he boarded a public carriage headed back to the market district, the clock chimed two o'clock with impeccable precision. Instinctively, Lumian retrieved his pocket watch, opening it to check the time.

To his astonishment, the pocket watch, which he had meticulously calibrated just an hour earlier, had once again slowed down.

A minute slow.

-x-X-x-

Lumian carefully examined the pocket watch, ensuring that there were no mechanical issues.

Ever since I calibrated my pocket watch, the only odd occurrence had been the fugue state and the faint ringing of a bell when I left the Alone Bar. Additionally, there is one less monocle-wearing guard at the entrance of Salle de Bal Unique. Could there be a connection between these events and the sudden one-minute slowdown of my pocket watch? Lumian pondered this seriously, trying to come up with possible explanations.

He planned to write and inquire with Madam Magician once he returned to the market district.

Normally, he wouldn't bother his Major Arcana card holder with such minor issues, but the pocket watch's abnormality had likely started on Rue Ancienne. Moreover, there had been changes in Salle de Bal Unique's Amons. These were reasons to be cautious.

Lumian stowed his pocket watch away. When the public carriage came to a stop, he swiftly disembarked and turned into a nearby street, keeping a vigilant eye on the people and animals passing by.

He changed public carriages three times, each leading to different destinations, attempting to identify and elude any potential pursuers.

This was the self-cultivation of a Hunter.

After completing this elaborate process, Lumian entered a department store. He placed the satchel containing the Flog boxing gloves in a public washroom cubicle, put on his Lie earring, and reverted to his original appearance.

He also swapped his brown jacket for a dark vest that he had kept in his satchel, transforming himself back into Ciel Dubois as he returned to Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman.

Lumian breathed a sigh of relief after sending the letter to Madam Magician, detailing his experiences with the fugue state, the faint bell chimes, and the alterations in Salle de Bal Unique's guards.

Whenever he visited Rue Ancienne, even though he never encountered a genuine disaster, he always felt an unsettling and inexplicable fear gripping his heart.

The puppet messenger swiftly returned with a reply from Madam Magician.

"Your instincts are keen and accurate.

"The fugue you experienced and the bell chimes you heard were the result of Mr. Fool's Angel of Time. He located his target and obliterated Salle de Bal Unique along with all the Amons in Trier. The reason your pocket watch slowed down by a minute was also a consequence of this clash.

"In the near future, you needn't concern yourself with what Amon might do to you. Nevertheless, you should be aware that dealing with such a Mythical Creature is far from simple, and they cannot be completely annihilated. There are still numerous Amons lurking in the various countries of the Northern and Southern Continents, and a few might even be concealed beneath Trier, beyond the reach of angelic powers."

As Lumian read Madam Magician's response, he was momentarily stunned.

That brief fugue he had experienced indicated a battle on an angelic scale?

Had he not recently calibrated his pocket watch, he might not have gathered any substantial evidence!

And if it weren't for the angelic Termiboros sealed within him, he might have suffered the same fate as Leah—unable to hear the bell or even be in a fugue state!

Is this the might of an angel? The confrontation between the Angel of Time and Amon had not affected the ordinary people in the vicinity. Otherwise, the residents of Rue Ancienne would have died without even realizing it…

Once one crosses the threshold into divinity, their array of abilities take on a mystical quality. The Circle Inhabitant's repetitive loop, the Concealment power of the Evernight pathway, Madam Magician's Door of Starlight, and now the Angel of Time's bell chimes—all of these surpass my wildest imagination… For the first time, Lumian didn't long for the power of a High-Sequence Beyonder solely to resurrect his sister.

Lumian's spirits lifted at the prospect of no longer living in fear of Amons suddenly emerging from the shadows and thrusting him into peril. He offered genuine praise to Mr. Fool and the Angel of Time, as well as his Major Arcana card holder, Madam Magician.

With a sense of relief, he incinerated the reply and made his way to Apartment 601, 3 Rue des Blouses Blanches.

Franca was waiting for his return with information about the Alone Bar and Loki.

"Good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear?" he inquired, still grinning, as he closed the door.

Franca sized him up.

"You seem rather cheerful…

"The good news is that you've found leads on Loki?

"The bad news is that we lack the strength to continue investigating?"

"Neither." Lumian seized Franca's reclining chair.

Franca was taken aback. She hadn't expected Lumian to be so shameless.

Before Franca could voice her surprise, Lumian continued, "The good news is that Mr. Fool's Angel of Time has taken action. Salle de Bal Unique and all of Trier's Amons have been wiped out. If Loki shows up at the next gathering, it means he hasn't been Parasitized by an Amon."

"The bad news is that the copy of the information you bought was indeed created using a mechanical typewriter in the cellar of the Alone Bar. However, we can't continue our investigation while in Bureau 8's territory. I'm quite certain that it's Bureau 8's stronghold."

Leah was already working there as a bartender.

Franca's expression shifted between excitement and concern.

"Did you see Mr. Fool's Angel of Time? But why didn't I sense any obvious developments in Trier…

"Indeed, whether Loki is a member of Bureau 8 or not, asking directly about anyone who has recently used that mechanical typewriter will result in us being targeted by Bureau 8. And finding an excuse to use that typewriter to attempt divination with the last user might point to some members of Bureau 8 or even saints.

"There must be a High-Sequence Beyonder overseeing Bureau 8's stronghold diagonally opposite Salle de Bal Unique!"

Franca, her attention diverted to serious matters, forgot to ask Lumian to leave her exclusive seat.

Lumian recounted the minute delay in his pocket watch and Madam Magician's reply, leaving Franca amazed and fascinated.

After mentioning the Angel of Time, Lumian pondered for a moment and said, "Loki didn't conceal his appearance well at the gathering. I suspect he possesses abilities similar to Niese Face or Lie."

Franca nodded.

"If he's truly an official member of Bureau 8, I believe he's a Beyonder of the Seer pathway. He's at least a Sequence 6 Faceless. Your Lie corresponds to this Sequence. Yes, many Beyonders in Bureau 8 are from the Seer pathway."

Above Magician is Faceless? After Lumian obtained Lie, he suspected that it belonged to the Seer pathway, but he didn't know the corresponding Sequence name.

After Lumian conversed with Franca about the Seer pathway, the two of them fell into a dilemma about how to find Loki in reality.

Just then, brisk footsteps echoed upstairs before Jenna opened the door to Apartment 601.

She glanced at Lumian, who was sitting in the recliner, and Franca, who was standing beside him, and asked in confusion, "What are you guys talking about?"

"We're pondering over a conundrum," Lumian clarified, informing Jenna that he and Franca were in trouble tracking an enemy with the code name Loki. Finally, he asked, "Any ideas?"

Jenna shook her head in amusement. "You've rejected all the solutions I can think of."

Without waiting for her companions to speak, she said thoughtfully, "Ciel, put yourself in Loki's shoes. Think of yourself as someone who likes to tease others. Think of everything that happened from their perspective and see if you can find any clues. Don't you also like pranks? You should have something in common with them."

My pranks are quite different from theirs… Lumian didn't say it out loud. He tried to recall his motives, thoughts, and changes in mentality during the pranks to analyze the actions and motives of the April Fool's team.

After a moment, he furrowed his brow.

"All pranks are meant to bring joy when the target is embarrassed or suffers a blow. Those people used my sister as a target for pranks, but they can't confirm the final outcome, so it's difficult for them to obtain true joy…

"Similarly, how are they going to track Franca's movements and witness her tragic end by instigating her to explore the underground? You have to know that even if Franca never goes to the mysticism gathering again, she might have encountered an accident due to something else."

The three people in the room pondered this question.

If a prankster failed to witness the end of a prank, they would lack a sense of accomplishment and the expected joy. How could Loki and the others determine Aurore or Franca's encounter?

After a while, Lumian said in a deep voice, "Either the prank is a cover-up, and they have an ulterior motive, or they have a way to monitor the corresponding target."

Franca suddenly felt a chill down her spine and subconsciously surveyed the room.

"What way?" Jenna asked on her behalf.

Lumian shook his head slowly. "I don't know. This might be a lead."

Amidst the alternations between silence and discussion, the three of them couldn't come up with an answer, so they could only put this matter aside for the time being.

On his way back to Salle de Bal Brise, Lumian gazed at the afternoon sun and probed, "Temiboros, can I find Loki through the Prophecy Spell?"

Termiboros's magnificent voice resounded, "After you left Rue Ancienne, if you hadn't done any anti-tracking, you would have encountered Loki."

-x-X-x-

If I hadn't used anti-tracking, I would have encountered Loki? Lumian was taken aback by Termiboros's response.

Lumian's mind raced as he dissected the information in that sentence.

After leaving Rue Ancienne, Loki had been tailing him for some time!

The source of the copied information had been a trap!

This noon, Loki had been at the Alone Bar!

He deliberately chose the Alone Bar's mechanical typewriter to make a copy of the information. His plan was that anyone chasing him would discover it, allowing him to start tracking the other party, aiming for a lethal strike.

And if the pursuer turned out to be formidable, he could ensure his basic safety by being inside Bureau 8's stronghold. He wouldn't be easily discovered. He could even manipulate Bureau 8, an official organization, to go after the other party.

With this in mind, Lumian felt a mixture of regret and relief.

Regrettably, he hadn't spotted Loki's pursuit after leaving Rue Ancienne until the anti-tracking process was finished. This meant he had "missed" the founder of the April Fool's team. He could have had the chance to discuss Muggle-related matters with him.

But Lumian was also relieved because he wasn't prepared. If he had discovered Loki and was forced to act prematurely, there was a high chance he would have met a tragic end. After all, according to Franca's description, a Sequence 7 Magician possessed many bizarre abilities. As a Marionettist, they could silently eliminate others.

If Loki had launched a surprise attack, Lumian wasn't sure if he would have had the opportunity to use Mr. K's finger. He also wasn't sure if he could have located the real Loki in time and escaped with the Spell of Harrumph.

However, at this moment, regret outweighed relief in his heart.

Lumian's pace toward Salle de Bal Brise involuntarily slowed. He recalled his experience at the Alone Bar at noon.

The bar was dimly lit, and it was well past lunchtime. Besides a couple of inebriated patrons chatting by the window, Leah, disguised as a bartender, appeared to be the only one on the first floor.

From the cellar, which doubled as a marionette theater, he could occasionally hear conversations from different people.

In the room with the mechanical typewriter, a man was reading a newspaper. He remained silent, his gaze fixed on the newspaper. Even when collecting the typing fee, he merely nodded…

Which one of them was Loki? Lumian stopped diagonally across from Salle de Bal Brise, his gaze unfocused.

Clearly, Leah couldn't be Loki. It wasn't due to gender differences but rather her lack of Sequence. According to Franca, Loki had a habit of revealing his appearance as of last year or even earlier. It was suspected that he had advanced to Faceless, and Leah was only a Sequence 7 Magician a few months ago.

In the lifelike dream, she likely couldn't conceal her specific Sequence.

Lumian's suspicion gradually settled on the man who was engrossed in reading the newspaper and watching the typewriter.

Lumian carefully recalled the man's appearance and realized he was entirely unremarkable. He was in his thirties, with black hair, blue eyes, and an average appearance, dressed in a plain black suit like any common clerk.

But if a Marionettist can control people, can they also turn rats, cockroaches, bedbugs, and other creatures into marionettes?

In that case, the possibilities are endless. Every living thing in the Alone Bar could potentially be Loki…

How could I ever hope to find him? What a vexing individual. Though his manifestations differed from those of the Amons, they are equally vexing!

It's only thanks to the angel trapped within me, Mr. Fool's seal, and the Blood Emperor's aura that I could evade a Marionettist—a Seer Beyonder—so far. Relying solely on anti-tracking and Lie likely wouldn't be enough to escape Loki's grasp…

How frustrating. The Alone Bar is Bureau 8's stronghold. I can't simply flush the real Loki out with a broad sweep… The more Lumian contemplated it, the more exasperated he became.

Having successfully eluded pursuit, it seemed nearly impossible to bait Loki with a similar ploy. Anyone with a modicum of intelligence would smell a trap in this recurring situation.

What's worse, frequent visits to the Alone Bar would undoubtedly attract Bureau 8's attention, further complicating matters.

Lumian took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, forcing himself to regain his composure.

He concentrated on his analysis of Loki.

According to Anthony's theory, Loki and most members of the April Fool's team have high opinions of themselves. Otherwise, after experiencing despair for the future, they wouldn't seek solace in pranks. They would indulge in their desires and the pleasures of life…

Is it possible to lure such a person into a trap they believe they had outsmarted?

Lumian dismantled and reassembled various pieces of information in his mind, searching for a viable solution.

His frustration grew, and he longed to storm into the Alone Bar and eliminate everyone except Leah.

Then, an idea struck Lumian.

While it might not form a direct plan against Loki, it could serve as a means to probe the situation at the Alone Bar, uncover exploitable details, and gather information. Additionally, it would provide an outlet for his emotions and anger, and perhaps even earn him some money.

After careful consideration, Lumian turned around and made his way towards Rue Anarchie.

…

Auberge du Coq Doré, Room 401.

Lumian pushed open the unlatched door, where he found the bankrupt merchant, Fitz, sitting at a wooden table, dipping a long, stick-like rye bread into a thick, sticky soup.

Fitz glanced back, placing the food aside, and stood up, clearly confused and somewhat panicked.

"Monsieur Ciel, what's the matter?"

The bankrupt merchant's brown hair appeared greasy, yet he stubbornly maintained a semblance of tidiness. His dark-brown eyes and smile lines gave him a naturally ingratiating appearance.

In contrast to their previous encounter, Fitz's clothes now bore a bit of dirt, as if he hadn't had the time to clean them.

"Can you provide evidence that Timmons owes you 100,000 verl d'or? The owner of Salle de Bal Unique."

Fitz's eyes lit up.

"Yes! I have a contract for our joint venture. It clearly states that he agreed to repurchase his shares within a specified time frame, along with paying me 100,000 verl d'or and the corresponding profits.

"Monsieur Ciel, you don't need to use Salle de Bal Unique to jog my memory about Timmons. I curse that scoundrel a hundred times a day!

"Monsieur Ciel, do you believe there's a chance of recovering my money?"

Lumian's lips curled up.

"This could be your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If you miss it, you may never see that money again."

Salle de Bal Unique was at its most vulnerable!

Without the Amons, it was now inhabited solely by humans with varying degrees of mutation!

Fitz was a mix of excitement and apprehension upon hearing this. He hastily retrieved the valuable contract and handed it over to Lumian.

While he didn't entirely trust the mob leader, he had no choice but to place his hopes in him, praying that Lumian would return with good news.

…

Quartier de l'Observatoire, Rue Ancienne.

Lumian changed his appearance and clothes. He walked towards Salle de Bal Unique in a shirt, vest, top hat, and thin formal suit.

He encountered a guard sporting a monocle on his right eye and dressed in a short black suit, who obstructed his path.

"Monsieur, you must wear a monocle to enter our dance hall."

Lumian responded with a smile.

"Monette introduced me here. He mentioned that I don't need to wear a monocle on my right eye, like you gentlemen."

The two guards exchanged meaningful glances and exchanged knowing smiles.

"Then it's not an issue."

From their appearances, it seems they are well aware of the consequences of being invited by Monette. They might even have been influenced by Monette's devious personality and secretly are faithful to Amon. Unfortunately, they remain oblivious to the fact that Salle de Bal Unique is no longer the same as they remembered. Lumian sneered inwardly and decided to seek out someone most resembling Amon later, intent on shattering their monocle with a punch.

This act was both a release of his pent-up anger and fear from being manipulated and intimidated by Amon, and a means to catch the attention of the Alone Bar. After all, how would they know that someone could reclaim the money from Timmons?

It was already evening, and gas wall lamps and stained-glass chandeliers illuminated Salle de Bal Unique's dance hall.

Dancers in monocles and short suits swayed on the dance floor while others leaned against the railings with glasses of wine, wearing smiles as they observed others dancing. Musicians played violins and the clarinet in one corner, contributing to the lively atmosphere.

It appeared as though nothing unusual had occurred here.

After observing for a while, Lumian made his way to the stairs leading to the second floor.

The guard with a monocle, stationed at the top of the stairs, extended his right hand to block Lumian's path.

He asked with an inscrutable smile, "Who are you here to see?"

Lumian maintained a relaxed demeanor as he replied, "I'm here to collect some debts from Timmons."

"Then you can't proceed upstairs," the monocled guard retorted, his tone almost amused, as if he were witnessing a comedy.

Lumian's lips curled into a radiant smile.

Bang!

His left fist connected with the guard's face, sending the monocle flying. It crashed to the ground with a resounding crack.

-x-X-x-

Amidst the sound of the monocle falling and sliding, the guard tilted his head, surprise and confusion crossing his face.

His reaction was rather bizarre. He didn't react with anger or call for backup. It was as though he considered what had just happened a part of some performance filled with mystery.

Lumian passed by with a smile, heading up the stairs without a second glance.

The guard's expression flickered, but he eventually gave up trying to intervene.

Still filled with puzzlement and thought, his eyes darted around, and a strange, anticipatory grin played on his lips, as if he expected something thrilling.

As Lumian reached the second floor, the two guards with monocles simply watched him pass without hindrance. They wore similar enigmatic and expectant smiles.

No Low-Sequence Beyonders? Lumian muttered, disappointed.

He had braced himself for a confrontation, something to showcase for the Alone Bar across the street. But, to his surprise, the other fake Amons in the Salle de Bal Unique were just regular folks. None of them seemed inclined to engage with him.

It made sense, though. Amon wasn't like Mr. Fool or the Great Mother, capable of granting large-scale boons to believers. As for the Low- and Mid-Sequence Beyonders, they had likely been dealt with. In the undetectable angelic struggle, they might have been eliminated.

The remaining individuals probably had no idea that the dance hall had turned unusual, and many of their colleagues had vanished without a trace. They likely believed that Lumian was about to join them or go mad from some sort of prank.

With no imposter Amon to confront, Lumian had no option but to improvise and enact the situation himself.

He pulled his revolver from its holster and nonchalantly fired at the rooms on both sides of the corridor.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Each bullet hit a window with precision, the shattering glass echoing through the hall, accompanied by gunshots.

The second-floor guards were both surprised and perplexed by Lumian's actions. They suspected that he had been repeatedly fooled by a coworker, leading to a mental breakdown.

Otherwise, why would he be taking on the air and windows?

Instinctively, the guards raised their right hands to adjust their monocles in their eyes. Their expressions became increasingly eager, as if they were anticipating the climax of this thriller.

Go, confront the iceberg beneath the sea and the fear lurking in the darkness!

After firing four shots, Lumian reached the largest office.

He pushed the slightly ajar door open and found a man seated behind a massive wooden desk.

The man had a wide forehead and narrow cheeks. His dark, slightly curly hair framed his face, and his light-blue eyes seemed unfocused.

He also sported a crystal-like monocle over his right eye and wore a loose, comfortable black robe.

"Timmons?" Lumian inquired, entering with a furrowed brow.

The man snapped out of his daze and responded with a sense of disappointment, as if he had lost something precious.

"I'm Timmons."

"You're not dead yet?" Lumian asked, both surprised and amused.

As far as he knew, the other members of Salle de Bal Unique were in a state of being Amon and not Amon. However, Timmons, the boss here, must have been deeply parasitized. Such a person should have perished in the angelic-level battle, losing his life.

But that wasn't the case.

Timmons glanced at Lumian, maintaining the frustration and emptiness of someone who had lost their soul.

"Many people wish me dead, but they don't seem to have the power to curse me.

"Perhaps I'm already dead. All that's left is a shell."

"That's not important. What matters is that you return my client's 110,000 verl d'or, along with the interest," Lumian stated as he retrieved the contract from his satchel with his left hand, courtesy of the bankrupt merchant, Fitz.

He anticipated Timmons' rejection of his request and an ensuing confrontation.

Timmons shook off his despondency, raised a hand to his forehead, and smiled.

"There's cash and accessories in the safe. Help yourself. The password is 010103."

"I thought you'd put up a fight." Lumian sighed in disappointment.

Timmons gazed at the revolver in Lumian's hand and remarked, "I'm just a swindler, not a miser. I can swindle others again when I'm out of money. But if I'm dead, there's nothing left.

"Besides, I've already lost the most important thing today. Compared to that, 110,000 verl d'or is nothing."

What do you mean you can swindle others if you're out of money? Haven't you ever considered becoming wealthy through legal means? Lumian pursed his lips and made his way towards the mechanical safe in the office.

Three, two, one… As he approached the safe, he counted down, expecting Timmons to launch a surprise attack from behind.

Yet, the owner of Salle de Bal Unique remained motionless. He didn't cry out for help or attempt to summon the police.

Lumian crouched in front of the iron-gray mechanical safe. Using the password provided by Timmons, he twisted the knob repeatedly until he heard a satisfying click.

He glanced at the banknotes and gold bars that clearly exceeded 100,000 verl d'or, opened his satchel, and collected them all.

With that task completed, Lumian raised his revolver, shattered the office window, and climbed out.

Timmons's lips curled into a playful smile, one shared by everyone present.

However, at that moment, Lumian unexpectedly spun around and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

A yellow bullet grazed Timmons's hair and embedded itself into a cabinet nearby.

The monocle-wearing Timmons's body tensed, and his smile disappeared. His eyes were filled with bewilderment.

He even caught a whiff of something burning above his head.

Lumian grinned and waved his hand.

"Surprised?"

With that, he leaped off the windowsill and landed in the alley behind Salle de Bal Unique.

Timmons's expression gradually shifted, now marked by confusion and bewilderment.

Inside Salle de Bal Unique, the dancers with monocles on their right eyes and short suits went about their business, eagerly awaiting the intruder's descent, imagining him donning a monocle and officially joining their ranks.

However, amid the intermittent gunshots, they failed to witness the spectacle they had anticipated.

…

Near Place du Purgatoire in Rue Ancienne, there was a bell tower belonging to the Eternal Blazing Sun Cathedral. Adjacent to the bell tower stood a newly constructed ten-story building.

Franca, disguised as a typical female mercenary, positioned herself at the rooftop's edge with a brass telescope, her gaze fixed on the Alone Bar in the distance.

Amidst the distant echoes of gunshots, Leah, the bartender clad in a white shirt, black bow tie, and a dark knee-length dress, emerged at the bar's entrance, her eyes directed towards Salle de Bal Unique, situated diagonally across from her.

Before long, Franca observed gray rats emerging from beside Leah's feet. These rats crossed the street and disappeared beside the ancient building.

After another two to three minutes, a man and a woman exited the Alone Bar, pushing their way through the guards and entering Salle de Bal Unique.

Franca scrutinized the pair through her telescope and noticed that their expressions seemed animated and their movements agile when they "interacted" with the guards. However, as they crossed the street and passed by the guards, their expressions grew stiffer, and their movements became somewhat robotic.

Marionettes? Franca speculated.

As for the whereabouts of the Marionettist who created and controlled these marionettes, she couldn't discern it at all. The only thing she could deduce was that the effective range of this ability spanned dozens of meters, if not more.

Simultaneously, she couldn't help but complain, When there are people, they appear as 'real people.' But when there's nobody around, the Marionettist can't be bothered to maintain their facial expressions and character details? Isn't this too unprofessional?

Or perhaps it's a tactic to intimidate occasional onlookers and passersby who happen to catch a glimpse?

Franca maintained her vigil until Lumian had returned to his original form, changed his attire, and completed his anti-tracking measures. Even then, she couldn't spot the Marionettist when he met up with her.

Other than Leah, everyone else appeared to be marionettes!

Franca conveyed her frustration to Lumian, "Isn't this level of caution and meticulousness excessive? I couldn't find anything conclusive. All I can confirm is that there's definitely a Marionettist here, and it's highly likely that there's more than one."

Just hearing her account made Lumian's head ache, much like when dealing with Amon.

Could it be that they became "neighbors" because they excelled at concealing their true forms and were exceptionally elusive and hard to uncover?

"Is there no way to use Magic Mirror Divination to gather some clues?" Lumian pondered briefly before inquiring.

Franca gently shook her head in response.

"This is the Seer pathway. Unless I can directly possess one of the marionettes, I won't be able to locate their true bodies."

Lumian fell silent as he gazed at the now tranquil Salle de Bal Unique.

"Let's head back. At the next gathering, we'll gather information from I Know Someone, Hisoka, and Bard. They shouldn't be as elusive as Loki. We can still pretend to be duped and see if we can draw them out."

When the time came, Hidden Blade couldn't step forward; Muggle would have to handle it herself. Franca had already purchased a copy of Loki's information and was among the potential suspects.

"Agreed," Franca concurred, realizing that this was their best course of action.

The two of them promptly departed from the high-rise apartment and secured a four-wheeled, four-seater rental carriage.

As the carriage reached the intersection between Quartier de l'Observatoire and Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative, Franca turned to Lumian.

"Aren't you going to perform another anti-tracking procedure?"

"Wouldn't relying on your anti-divination skills be sufficient?" Lumian responded with a smile. "Besides, after leaving Salle de Bal Unique, I've already undertaken several anti-tracking measures."

Franca stared at him for a couple of seconds before letting out a resigned sigh.

"Fine."

…

Avenue du Marché, market district.

Lumian, carrying a satchel filled with banknotes and gold, said his goodbyes to Franca and proceeded towards Rue Anarchie. Franca, on the other hand, headed back to Rue des Blouses Blanches.

Rue Anarchie was as lively and crowded as ever. Lumian weaved his way through vendors and pedestrians, drawing closer to Auberge du Coq Doré.

Suddenly, he experienced an unsettling sensation. His body seemed to lose coordination, as if someone had injected glue into his joints.