82 COI
After Louis Berry left the coffee area, Kolobo breathed a sigh of relief. He removed his sunglasses, retrieved the 5,000 verl d'or, and counted it again.
His gut told him this deal would work out. That's the only reason he dared to risk coming to the Matani Import and Export Shop. Still, his whole body had been trembling with fear. He couldn't even keep his eyes open most of the time, and his hands were shaking so badly that he was surprised it was legible.
Trouble always waits until it's ready to explode, he thought, clutching his sunglasses.
He stood up and headed for the door.
Something was wrong. He could feel it. His body tensed with some kind of danger sense he couldn't explain.
His heart raced as he scanned the place professionally, trying to pinpoint the danger. Kolobo's footsteps changed--sometimes fast, sometimes slow. He'd zip off in one direction only to stop short a few paces later.
Kolobo took in the morning sun, the quiet shop that had just opened its doors, and the handful of customers scattered about. Not a single pair of eyes seemed fixed on him, and there was no one lurking in the shadows, observing his every move.
Yet, following his instincts, his feet carried him back to the coffee shop area. That's where he finally stopped, in front of the bathroom sign.
Two years as a Beyonder taught Kolobo the most important lesson: trust your gut. Without thinking, he yanked open the heavy wooden door and walked inside.
The Matani Import and Export Shop wasn't some back-alley dive. This restroom was big. Three urinals, three stalls, and gas lamps flickered on the clean tile.
Kolobo headed to the sink to splash cold water on his face. Maybe that would shake this weird danger feeling that was creeping all over him.
As he looked up, a face stared back at him in the mirror.
But it wasn't his.
The face was freakishly white. The guy looked late twenties, with light brown skin and eyes that flashed a dark, sickly green. He stared at Kolobo with dead, cold eyes.
Kolobo's brain short-circuited as recognition hit.
Twanaku Tupi??n, the only Prisoner pathway Beyonder on their patrol team. The guy had become a Sequence 6 Zombie last year.
He was also the first guy to ever make Kolobo's skin crawl. If he told anyone else, he gut told him he'd end up dead!
When Lumian asked Kolobo to spill the beans about the Prisoner pathway Beyonder on his team, something about it felt wrong. He'd almost bailed on the whole deal. He'd counted that huge 50,000 sum not out of distrust but because he needed time to think, to weigh the risk.
He decided to trust his gut, but he hadn't told Lumian about this feeling, this fear of Tupi??n...
And now, here Twanaku Tupi??n was, reflected in the mirror.
This is a Sequence 5 Wraith power. When did he advance? Kolobo could barely think over the growing horror. Suddenly, his body felt like it'd been dropped into an icy lake.
Twanaku Twanaku's face in the mirror vanished.
Kolobo could barely move. An icy coldness gripped him, the kind that chilled you to the bone.
It wasn't his own hands that were moving--they lifted without him wanting them to. A voice drifted through his ears, flat and emotionless.
"Looks like my cover is blown. You were actually asked to provide my information.
"I'll get out of Port Pylos, but I'm going to leave two gifts for Lumian Lee."
What did that even mean? What kind of gift? And who the heck was Lumian Lee? Kolobo's thoughts were a jumbled mess. His own hands were tightening around his neck.
Then, with a sickening jolt, he realized what "gift" the voice was talking about.
Twanaku Tupi??n was going to kill him and leave a gift--his dead body!
But he said two gifts. What was the other one?
...
In the four-story beige building of the patrol team.
Camus sipped his Highlander coffee and read the West Balam Telegraph, contemplating the deal between Kolobo and Louis Berry.
If successful, as an intermediary, he would receive 20% of the amount.
Knock, knock, knock. A gentle rap echoed on Camus's office door.
"Please come in." Though not particularly young, Camus had ample experience, leading one of the patrol team's operations teams. If there were a vacancy for the vice-captain position, his only competition would be Twanaku Tupi??n of the Prisoner pathway.
The Southern Continent was a chaotic place, especially in an area torn between multiple factions. Whether dealing with the bloodthirsty Rose School of Thought, the ominous Numinous Episcopate, ambitious adventurers, spies from various countries, or missionaries, danger lurked at every corner. Some would take the initiative to assassinate patrol team members, while others would rebel and escape. Meticulous planning was not uncommon, and even the patrol team members found themselves as targets. Consequently, the patrol team faced casualties every year, leading to a constant need for new recruits.
Encountering more attacks had its advantages. Victorious confrontations often yielded valuable items and Beyonder-related ingredients. Many of the patrol team's advancement formulas and potions were acquired in such situations, creating a noteworthy trend.
Compared to cities of similar size in the Northern Continent, Port Pylos had an even greater number of official Beyonders, especially Mid-Sequence Beyonders. However, they lacked higher levels of power or corresponding Sealed Artifacts.
Camus found himself in a tight spot financially due to his rapid advancement outpacing his cousins.
Arriving in Matani State and Port Pylos as a Sequence 9 Arbiter, he had swiftly climbed to a Sequence 7 Justiciar in just five years. His goal was to advance to Sequence 6 and become a Judge, and he had recently been gathering the funds to purchase the necessary materials. If the opportunity to become a vice-captain arose, the patrol team would certainly contribute resources to aid his advancement.
Spoils of war weren't always suitable for him; sometimes, he needed to trade with teammates or sell them to the patrol team for money. He patiently waited for the potion formulas and Beyonder ingredients corresponding to his pathway to appear.
The patrol team, being relatively new, hadn't accumulated substantial reserves. Camus needed to find a way to purchase practical mystical items, regularly replenish charms, potions, and other essentials to stay prepared against assassinations and conflicts.
In such a situation, money was naturally scarce.
Chaos was a path to hell but also a ladder to the top!
Pugilist Sow entered.
With his brown braids gently swaying, Sow, clad in a sky-blue shirt and beige pants, approached Camus with one hand in his pocket, smiling as he asked, "Have you seen Kolobo? I need to discuss something with him."
Camus had already prepared a reason.
"He went to the Import and Export Shop to buy coffee beans."
Sow tersely acknowledged, "Then I'll wait for him to return."
"What's up?" Camus asked casually.
Sow took two steps forward and smiled.
"There's an investigation we would like to involve him in. Maybe he can uncover clues that others can't."
"You bastards, aren't you concerned about Kolobo getting hurt?" Camus replied with amusement, lifting his coffee and taking a sip.
At that moment, Sow withdrew his right hand from his trouser pocket, holding a poker card flickering with a metallic gleam between his thumb and index finger.
The card portrayed a grayish-white clown.
With a swift motion, Sow hurled the poker card at Camus's head.
…
In the men's washroom of the Matani Import and Export Shop.
Kolobo finally caught his reflection in the mirror.
His skin had turned a sickly green, and his hands were locked around his own neck, the pressure making his bones crack. Twanaku Tupián stared back at him from his bright blue eyes.
Kolobo tried to scream, but nothing came out. He wanted to run, but his legs wouldn't move.
It was like his body wasn't his anymore—it was killing him.
Ugh… A choked sound finally escaped Kolobo's throat, too quiet for anyone to hear.
Fear and despair tightened around his heart.
Then, Kolobo's fingers slipped.
A figure emerged from the shadows by the bathroom vents.
Lumian—black hair, green eyes, all dressed in black and white with a golden straw hat.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face, then understanding. He held a black bone flute to his lips.
A hum resounded, accompanied by a melancholic tune echoing from the dark red holes.
Symphony of Hatred!
Why did I only sense malice and danger now… Just as this thought crossed Twanaku's mind, Twanaku's murderous intent exploded, fueled by the haunting melody.
Silently, a figure peeled away from Kolobo's body. It was Twanaku Tupián, his light brown skin gone deathly pale.
Blood vessels bulged in his yellow eyes, threatening to burst.
The Symphony of Hatred tore into Kolobo, already weak with fear.
His heart almost stopped. He crumpled to the floor, barely alive.
Lumian stopped the melody. Holding the black bone flute, he slid back into the shadows and under the vent.
A moment later, he reappeared behind Twanaku Tupián, who was practically vibrating with murderous intent. Lumian lifted the flute, its blood-colored holes gleaming ominously, and took a breath.
Finally, you're here!
-x-X-x-
Twanaku Tupián's ears rang, his eyes stinging with blood. His mind burned, his thoughts scattering like sparks. For an agonizing moment, he couldn't process his situation, couldn't even think about the enemy closing in.
Blood, smelling strangely metallic, trickled from his eyes and nose. His pale skin darkened ominously.
"Ha!"
Lumian spat a blast of pale-yellow light, hitting the suspected Hisoka from barely two meters away.
Twanaku's eyes slammed shut, and he collapsed. Before he hit the ground, Lumian's Symphony of Hatred, a black bone flute, jabbed towards his neck.
Instantly, the tiled bathroom floor dissolved into a vast, muddy expanse of darkness. Arms burst upward.
Some were stripped of skin, all raw muscle and glistening tendon. Others twisted and ghostly, pale and transparent. Some bore bulging eyes that spun madly, others sprouted thick green growths…
The grotesque limbs tore at Lumian and Twanaku, clawing and dragging.
This was Twanaku's spell, a death-type enchantment once called Vengeful Wraith's Entanglement, meant to summon an undead horde to paralyze his targets.
But as a Mid-Sequence Beyonder of the Devil pathway, his power twisted the spell into something new—the Fallen Abyss!
He could alter a space in advance, allowing undead or fallen creatures to lurk beneath the surface. Anyone unfortunate enough to step inside would be grabbed by unseen arms and dragged into the muddy, pitch-black depths. The Abyss would slow and weaken its victims, the icy touch of the undead stealing their strength with agonizing speed. If they were pulled all the way under, they'd be corrupted and lost.
Twanaku had cast this spell in the bathroom before attacking Kolobo. He hadn't wanted any nosy employees or customers to stumble on the scene, but it turned out to be a lucky break. That's why he'd appeared in the mirror instead of right inside Kolobo's eyes.
Lumian's attack with the Symphony of Hatred came to an abrupt halt.
Countless arms wrapped around his ankles, calves, hips, and torso. A wave of icy stiffness washed over him, his movements turning sluggish.
It was the same for Twanaku. With the Wraith and Desire Apostle unconscious, the Fallen Abyss slipped from his control, leaving him vulnerable. His limp body was seized by the strange arms and dragged to the ground.
Nearby, Kolobo, badly injured and out for the count, was pulled into the muddy, pitch-black depths of the illusory Abyss.
A burst of crimson flames exploded from Lumian's body, surrounding him like a blazing cloak.
The flames roared, scorching most of the arms into retreat. Still, some remained unaffected, their grip relentless. A creeping coldness numbed Lumian's body, but he regained a sliver of his former agility.
Before, he could have simply lunged forward, thrusting the black bone flute towards his enemy's neck. But now, the target—the one he believed was Hisoka—was about to vanish into the ground.
Thud!
Twanaku slammed into the ground, the impact jarring him awake. The Spell of Harrumph's grip faded, and he finally regained his senses.
His toughest moment, that relentless surge of desire, was behind him.
Lumian lowered his head, a single scornful sound escaping him.
"Hmph!"
Twin beams of white light shot out while Lumian retracted his hands, fingers slipping back into his Traveler's Bag.
The beams missed their mark, but horrifying, bloody arms sprouted from the ground, a gruesome forest that blocked Twanaku from their path.
With a flash of awareness, Twanaku seized control of the Fallen Abyss spell, shielding himself and attacking his enemy.
The arms hit by the Spell of Harrumph softened, sinking back into the pitch-black mud as if drained.
Twanaku took his chance. His body twisted, morphing into a dark, oozing malevolence, a shape born from the darkest shadows of his heart.
Silently, Twanaku transformed into an illusory, viscous, and foul black liquid, merging with the muddy Abyss and vanishing.
The evil arms, unfazed by the flames, clung to Lumian, limiting his movement.
His hands flew to his Traveler's Bag, pulling out a suit of gleaming silver armor.
He set the armor beside him, sinking it firmly into the pitch-black mud.
Pride Armor!
Evil, writhing arms erupted from the illusory Abyss—and the corresponding spirit world. Guided by the spell, they lunged for the Pride Armor, seizing its ankles, legs, torso, and back.
The Pride Armor struck back, a broadsword of pure light flashing in its hand. Blinding, holy light flooded the washroom.
The shadowy arms recoiled with hisses of black smoke, retreating into the depths.
The pitch-black mud dissolved, revealing the bathroom's stone tiles.
Kolobo, who'd been on the brink of sinking into the Abyss, lay unconscious on the floor.
Just meters away, near the washroom door, a figure of viscous black liquid prepared to flee.
Now free, Twanaku came to a swift decision.
He wouldn't waste time trying to possess Lumian Lee. Instead, he'd abandon the Matani Import and Export Shop—and Port Pylos!
It was a trap. He had to escape before it closed around him. Staying to fight back was foolish—he couldn't risk lingering just to satisfy his rage and murderous desire.
That would be far too dangerous!
Twanaku was glad he'd chosen to give Lumian Lee those two "gifts". He'd even divided his favorite mystical items to do it. The patrol team should be in chaos by now, focused on a false target.
The distraction would give him his chance to escape.
Before, Twanaku hadn't been focused on killing Camus. His priority was taking out Kolobo and escaping. If everything went smoothly, there shouldn't be problems for either side. Any chaos caused by Camus's death would be a bonus—
distracting the enemy by having the other passing off as the real deal.
He'd sent that extra "gift" as a precaution, not some bloodthirsty urge!
…
In Camus's office, nestled inside the patrol team's beige four-
story building, a poker card shimmered with metallic light as it hurtled towards him. Coffee was the last thing on his mind. He dove behind his desk with a surge of adrenaline, planning to send the table flying back at Sow before blasting him with Psychic Piercing.
The joker-faced card soared over Camus's head, missing its target.
But then, as if it had a mind of its own, the card swerved and plunged down, aiming for Camus's back.
It seemed to melt right into him, vanishing in a flash.
Sow's grin stretched wider. He strode to the desk, yanking the broadsword from his back.
…
Inside the men's bathroom of the Matani Import and Export Shop.
A figure made of thick, black liquid slipped through the crack under the door then strangely reformed in its original spot.
Bottle of Fiction!
The moment Lumian harbored malice and took out the Symphony of Hatred from the Traveler's Bag, Lumian had used this bathroom vent as a base, using the Bottle of Fiction to set one condition: only females could enter or exit!
That way, innocent customers wouldn't stumble into the dangerous Beyonder battle. And Hisoka couldn't escape without destroying the Bottle of Fiction first!
The black, liquid figure spread toward the vent, dodging the two white beams from Lumian.
Twanaku was done with dodging. His body swelled and warped, transforming into a monstrous giant almost three meters tall.
The monster's skin turned a dull, dark shade, and a pair of curved goat horns marked with strange patterns sprouted from his head. Colossal bat wings wreathed in blue and crimson flames lashed out, releasing a stinging, sulfurous stench.
Devil Transformation!
This was the signature power of a Sequence 6 Devil from the Prisoner pathway—a boost to strength, speed, defense… everything.
Lumian knew his target, the one he thought was Hisoka, was on high alert, braced to dodge his Spell of Harrumph. He stopped using it.
He decided against the Symphony of Hatred too. The situation was different.
Before, his enemy had been fueled by bloodlust in his murder attempt on Kolobo, a perfect trigger. Now, there was only a cold, emotionless focus.
With no guarantee that the Symphony of Hatred would work
—or that it wouldn't backfire—Lumian wasn't taking that chance.
Instead, a crimson spear sparked into existence. From a few meters away, he hurled it at the suspected Hisoka.
The second the spear left his hand, Lumian vanished.
He couldn't stay put. Possession by the Wraith, a mind-
shattering psychic blast from a Desire Apostle, some twisted desire spell—any of those were a risk!
-x-X-x-
In the face of the flaming spear, Twanaku's eyes, now crimson from the Devil Transformation, reflected dancing and burning crimson flames.
He remained unfazed. Instead, he conjured an aberration--a broadsword made of crimson magma and pale-blue flames.
Swiftly turning, Twanaku exposed his back to the flaming spear. With the magma broadsword in hand, he slashed at the foe who had seemingly teleported behind him, launching an attack.
The broadsword, adorned with crimson magma and pale-blue flames, sliced through the air but missed Lumian. It left only an exaggerated mark on the wall behind, a testament to its destructive force.
Had it not been for the Bottle of Fiction's protection, the bathroom wall would have been split in half. Even so, the bottle visibly trembled, bearing some damage.
The nearly white flaming spear also struck Twanaku's back, piercing a little before being halted by the elastic dark skin and sturdy flesh. It failed to penetrate the Devil's body, leaving only blackened traces from the resulting inferno.
Devils, armored in thick and tough natural protection, were resistant to flames, poison, and curses to a certain extent. Twanaku, in his Zombie state, possessed a steel-like body that could withstand bullets and cannonballs. Lumian's flaming spear and fireball attacks, as well as the Fire Ravens' onslaught, posed little threat. Standing still, Twanaku could endure repeated attacks without suffering severe injuries.
Additionally, his ability to transform into a Wraith allowed him to evade explosions effortlessly.
"Hisoka" Twanaku believed that, without the support of the Tarot Club, the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, and powerful demigods, he could have tortured Lumian to death. Even with teleportation, spells rendering him temporarily unconscious, and mystical items, most of Lumian's attacks were ineffective against Wraiths and Desire Apostle Beyonders. The Psychic Shock and Desire Detonation further restrained him, leaving him vulnerable to the assaults of Wraiths and undead creatures.
Having missed his strike, Twanaku noticed Lumian's figure reappear in midair.
As anticipated, Lumian had chosen to teleport behind and launch an attack. However, there was a notable change compared to previous encounters.
Hovering near the ceiling and the vent, Lumian opened his mouth and emitted a harrumph.
The moment a pale-yellow light shot out, Hisoka Twanaku's figure faded and vanished.
In Lumian's pupils, a devilish figure materialized--dark skin, long goat horns, bat wings on its back, and no longer wielding the Sword of Lava.
Swiftly, Twanaku transformed into a Wraith, leaping into Lumian's eyes, deftly dodging the Spell of Harrumph's attack.
Devil Transformation didn't impede his Wraith abilities!
Lumian's face paled, a dark-green hue tinting his features. His hands involuntarily rose, reaching for his neck, and his body plummeted to the ground.
Prepared for such a situation, Lumian didn't resist. While he could still struggle, he didn't halt his hands or resist the Wraith's control. Instead, he sank his consciousness into his right hand.
The frenzied, bloody aura of superiority dissipated slightly, causing Twanaku to instinctively tremble.
He subconsciously detached from Lumian's body and leaped onto the sink.
Lumian activated the black mark on his right shoulder, vanishing before crashing to the ground.
This time, he appeared behind the motionless silver-white full-body armor.
Behind!
The Pride Armor spun around abruptly, raising the broadsword of light and slashing at Lumian in the not-too-small bathroom. Lumian employed Spirit World Traversal once more, vanishing from the silver armor's path.
Within the mirror, "Hisoka" Twanaku was somewhat bewildered.
Why did Lumian Lee provoke his Sealed Artifact and engage in combat with it?
Am I not his enemy target?
The negative effects of a Sealed Artifact?
Though he didn't understand what was going on, Twanaku sensed danger instinctively.
His Danger Premonition, along with a possible insight from Emperor Roselle--"If something shows signs of abnormality, there must be an abnormal factor hidden. Such factors often signify danger."
Without hesitation, Twanaku left the sink and leaped to the bathroom door in his colossal Devil form.
Conjuring a dozen or so light-blue Sulfur Fireballs, he directed them at the wooden door in unison.
Twanaku, who had shaken the Bottle of Fiction with his sword, knew that the current seal could be broken by brute force. There was no need to find the true exit or kill the enemy who had constructed the seal.
For this reason, he chose to forgo teaming up with the full-body armor to assail Lumian.
He reckoned that any further delay, even if Lumian Lee were to fall on the spot, would lead to him being surrounded, facing a lethal blow with no chance of escaping alive.
In such a scenario, killing Lumian Lee would render the effort meaningless!
Certainly, Twanaku wasn't about to let Lumian off easily. Following the Sulfur Fireball assault, he clenched his fists and spoke a word in Devil language filled with depravity and filth.
"Slow!"
This was a manifestation of the Language of Foulness, capable of stiffening and even halting the movements of targets within a seven- to eight-meter radius for approximately two seconds.
Considering the bathroom's size, this radius covered the entire area.
Lumian's form reappeared.
Once more, he teleported behind the Pride Armor, conjuring a crimson fireball almost white in his hand.
Influenced by the Language of Foulness, both Lumian and the Pride Armor moved sluggishly. One "slowly" launched a fireball, while the other struggled to turn around, as if its joints had rusted.
Rumble!
The Sulfur Fireballs erupted against the bathroom door.
A translucent, illusory membrane materialized on the bathroom's side. Like glass, it shattered inch by inch, leaving crisscrossing marks that teetered on the brink of collapse.
The wooden door appeared charred and pieced together, reminiscent of a child's broken toy hastily glued back together.
Observing this, "Hisoka" Twanaku grasped that another strike could completely shatter the seal.
This time, he gathered seven to eight light-blue Sulfur Fireballs.
On the opposite end, Lumian's fireball finally collided with the Pride Armor's back, assisted by the explosive waves.
Amidst the rumbling and clanging, the silver armor stiffened.
Lumian activated the black mark on his right shoulder once more and teleported away from his current location.
Almost simultaneously, the Pride Armor overcame the effects of Slow with abnormal swiftness, swiftly turning around.
However, it still couldn't lock onto its target.
Twanaku felt a surge of amusement bubbling within him but maintained an unusual vigilance. His only wish was that the relentless bombardment would shatter the seal completely, granting him an avenue for escape.
In the next moment, the Sulfur Fireballs collided with the wooden door at the bathroom entrance. Twanaku witnessed the silver-white full-body armor squat down, driving the broadsword of light into the ground.
Wh— Twanaku's pupils dilated as he instinctively readied himself to transform into a Wraith.
Yet, he held back, exercising restraint. Aware of the potential consequences within the Warrior pathway, he understood the risk of subjecting himself to even greater harm.
Rumble!
Simultaneously with the explosion of the Sulfur Fireballs, the Sword of Dawn, embedded in the crevice in the stone tiles by the Pride Armor, disintegrated into fragments of light. Densely packed, they formed a flickering, violent, and sharp hurricane that swept in all directions, filled with the intent to annihilate everything.
Hurricane of Light!
Since it couldn't lock onto the backstabber, it opted for a wide-ranging assault!
The sharp and terrifying storm of light enveloped Twanaku and Kolobo on the ground. Lumian materialized in front of the latter, crouched down, shielding vital points. He faced the formidable hurricane head-on.
The washroom bore the brunt of the assault. The urinal was wrecked, and the cubicles silently collapsed, shedding a layer of bricks.
As a depraved creature, Twanaku had nowhere to hide. All he could do was endure the damage, his eyes flickering with a sharp light.
In the radiant blades' storm, Lumian's figure cracked inch by inch, shattering into numerous mirror fragments.
Mirror Substitution!
With his obstruction, Kolobo avoided fatal injuries but couldn't escape multiple bleeding wounds.
…
In Camus's office, within the beige four-story building housing the patrol team.
Crouched behind a table, Camus's face turned pale, tinged with a dark-green hue. It was as if a grayish-white clown laughed exaggeratedly in his eyes.
Camus strained to ignite bolts of lightning in his eyes, piercing Sow's mind. His betraying teammate grimaced in pain, causing his broadsword to lose strength and direction, crashing into the desk and failing to hit Camus.
In that critical moment, Camus drew a silver revolver from his right hand, aiming it not at Sow but at himself.
Across the street, in a room facing Camus's office,
Jenna, holding a telescope, huddled by the curtain, closely monitored Camus's condition.
Seeing the other party under attack and struggling, she swiftly grabbed the loudspeaker she had prepared and brought it to her mouth.
"Camus has been attacked!
"Camus has been attacked by the Rose School of Thought!
"Camus is being attacked in his office!"
The loudspeaker's sound reverberated through every room of the patrol team.
-x-X-x-
On the top floor of the beige building belonging to the patrol team, a middle-aged man in a thin black suit heard Jenna's voice.
Without bothering to trace the source of the shout, he stood up abruptly and retrieved a white human skull, seemingly carved from crystal, from his hidden pocket.
The man, a mix of Intis and West Balam lineage, held the crystal skull and recited a mysterious language with a strong sense of death.
In the next moment, a decaying palm extended from the void in front of him. Its joints were thick, and its skin was bleeding, revealing signs of decay.
The palm belonged to a corpse that looked vaguely human but, upon closer inspection, resembled a monster.
Over 1.8 meters tall, its face concealed by a rusty bronze mask, and its torso composed of corpses from various species, including lions, tigers, black wolves, baboons, giant serpents, vultures, and humans themselves--all in a severe state of rot.
The corpse's bronze mask flickered with dark-red lights in its eyes as it took a step forward, arriving in Camus's office.
Faced with Camus, who had a revolver in his right hand, staggering toward his forehead, the monstrous corpse removed its bronze mask.
Underneath the mask, there was no nose, flesh, or bones. Only two dark-red balls of light and a mouth that occupied four-fifths of the head.
The mouth opened wide, revealing a pitch-black interior.
A terrifying suction force emanated from the mouth, affecting Camus's spirit but having no effect on the documents, newspapers, and other items on the desk. It only caused Camus's spirit to surface, as if pulled by an invisible force, about to be plunged into hell.
As Camus's Spirit Body materialized, the grayish-white clown seeped out of his flesh, revealing its complete form--a magnified, illusory poker card.
The poker card had no body of its own and was swiftly drawn out by the pitch-black mouth beneath the bronze mask. Camus's Spirit Body struggled.
Smack!
The poker card materialized and fell to the ground, emitting the sound of a heavy object colliding with solid bricks, but there was no metallic sound.
...
In the Matani Import and Export Shop, the male bathroom lay in ruins. The door and the wall facing the corridor crumbled into fragments, scattering for several meters, as if a storm had passed through.
The Bottle of Fiction had lost its effect.
Amidst the residual fragments of light and the lingering sulfur smell, Twanaku rolled out in his Devil form.
His pitch-black skin bore hideous wounds, and his flesh seemed to evaporate. Half of the two curved goat horns on his head were gone, and viscous black liquid flowed from the cracks.
The bat-like wings on his back were tattered and drooping.
With Twanaku's formidable physical strength, the Hurricane of Light from the Pride Armor shouldn't have caused such tragic and severe damage, but he was a Devil.
The Hurricane of Light possessed the unique ability to destroy evil creatures and undead beings.
It was like Twanaku undergoing purification while being sliced by a fragmentary blade. What made it more potent was their collaboration. Purification weakened defense and inflicted harm on the evil creature's spirit and flesh, while the fragmentary blade utilized purification to weaken defense and cut through flesh. The more wounds and the deeper they were, the better the purification effect.
Had Twanaku not resisted in his Devil form and instead transformed into a Wraith, he might have faced severe injury, teetering on the brink of death, or even elimination.
The Hurricane of Light could vanquish Wraiths and injure evil spirits.
Despite being severely injured, Twanaku, still capable of combat, calmly suppressed his tyrannical and bloodthirsty emotions. Realizing he had escaped the seal, he prepared to transform into a Wraith and escape through the surrounding mirrors.
Just as he made this decision, a sudden sense of Danger Premonition struck him.
The malice came from behind, and in the shadows outside the bathroom, Franca, dressed in an Assassin suit, emerged, raising her left hand.
On her left thumb, she wore an iron-colored ring with a thick band and a surface covered in small spikes--Ring of Punishment!
Franca's lake-blue eyes flickered with lightning, moving many times faster than the fastest bullets, shooting out silently with
Psychic Piercing!
Hidden Blade... Why do I only sense her malice now... The severely injured Twanaku couldn't dodge in time and suddenly heard an illusory shattering sound.
The shattering sound echoed from Twanaku's Spirit Body, and intense pain flooded his mind, compelling him to raise his hands to cover his head.
Seizing the opportunity, Franca swiftly took out a mirror and reflected Twanaku in his Devil form.
Black flames ignited in her left palm as she smeared it across the mirror's surface--
Demoness's curse!
Black flames erupted from Twanaku's body, but nearly two-thirds were suppressed by his flesh and blood, leaving only a portion of the colossal Devil's Spirit Body to be incinerated.
Being a Devil, immune to curses to a certain extent, helped Twanaku endure the Demoness's curse better, given his already ravaged state from the Hurricane of Light.
Finally free from the influence of Psychic Piercing, Twanaku, with his Spirit Body engulfed in black flames, transformed into a pitch-black, viscous liquid.
These liquids seemed to originate from the darkest corners of the human heart, representing the most sinister and shadowy desires and emotions.
Twanaku abandoned Wraith Form, choosing Desire Apostle's Desire Incarnation because Demoness's black flames targeted the Spirit Body more.
Before the pitch-black viscous liquid could fully elongate into a human figure, he fled into the nearby darkness, sensing a strong Danger Premonition in his heart.
At the corridor's entrance, Anthony Reid, donned in military-
green attire, appeared in a blind spot.
His eyes took on a faint golden hue, transforming into vertical pupils—Psychological Invisibility!
Frenzy!
Twanaku's mind buzzed, instantly breaking free from his Desire Incarnation state. Bloodshot eyes and livor mortis appeared on his body, emitting sulfurous blood.
He entered a frenzied state. Already grievously injured and subjected to Psychic Piercing and the Demoness's curse, he was on the verge of losing control.
Rumble!
Light-blue sulfur fireballs pelted the surroundings, propelled by Twanaku's wild instincts.
Franca's form quickly shattered into mirror fragments, while Anthony's body sprouted grayish-white dragon scales. He leaped toward the wall for cover.
Rumble!
Using up Franca's Mirror Substitution, Lumian teleported behind the frenzied Twanaku.
Having already unleashed the accumulated spirituality and strength within him, Lumian's spirituality surged, no longer drained.
Enduring the scorching sulfur flames and the blast's impact, Lumian focused on the oblivious, frenzied Twanaku. He harrumphed.
Two beams of white light shot from his nose, hitting what appeared to be Hisoka.
Twanaku collapsed, and the signs of madness began to fade.
Lumian didn't allow him to reach the ground. Extending his right hand, he grabbed Twanaku by the shoulder and teleported him into the spirit world!
In seconds, Lumian materialized at the edge of the primitive forest near Port Pylos.
Even during this process, he let out a harrumph. The pale-
yellow light emitted from his mouth knocked Twanaku out again, preventing him from regaining consciousness.
At that moment, a woman stood at the edge of the primitive forest. It was Hela, dressed like a black widow but not as distant as before.
Observing Twanaku, no longer in his colossal Devil state but emitting a sulfuric scent, with dark patterns on his skin, Hela nodded at Lumian and said, "It should be Hisoka."
Every time Hisoka participated in the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, he only disguised himself superficially. If Hisoka's true identity was targeted, Hela, who was responsible for providing the gathering venue and entrance method, could still recognize him.
"Ha!" Lumian chuckled and added a new Spell of Harrumph to Hisoka.
Hela seized his arm and chanted an incantation.
The two of them, along with Hisoka, vanished like pencil drawings erased by an eraser.
In the ancient and dilapidated palace of the Nation of the Evernight.
As Lumian emerged from his concealed state, he harrumphed.
Two beams of white light descended, and Hisoka remained unconscious.
Hela's tone chilled as she remarked, "I'll let you enter the same dream."
"Thank you." Lumian released Hisoka, reclining against a broken stone pillar.
Moments later, his thoughts blurred until he heard Hela's voice.
"It's done."
Lumian snapped back, gazing into the interrogation room where Hisoka sat opposite.
This member of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, Twanaku Tupián, bore light-brown skin, a blend of Northern and Southern Continent descent. His eyes gleamed flaxen, his hair dark. While not unattractive, his demeanor exuded indifference to life.
At the sight, Lumian's lips curved into a smile.
He had sought Hela's assistance primarily to craft an environment where he could safely unveil his plans after capturing Hisoka alive.
Otherwise, restraining Hisoka's resistance would have posed a significant challenge. Communicating with him would have been impossible if he remained unconscious until his demise. Destroying Hisoka's frontal lobe would strip away frustration, pain, and resentment, making it difficult to fulfill the requirements of the Reaper ritual.
Upon spotting Lumian, Hisoka suddenly struggled, but an invisible force held him back, preventing his transformation into a Wraith.
This was a dream controlled by Hela.
Hisoka calmed down and gazed at Lumian, posing the greatest question on his mind, "How did you manage to evade my Danger Premonition?"
Lumian's smile deepened. He looked down at Hisoka and said casually, "No need for a Demon Hunter's assistance. A sufficient distance and a Hypnotist would do the trick."
-x-X-x-
Sufficient distance and a Hypnotist... Hisoka repeated Lumian's words as if he had realized something.
Lumian stood in front of him, looking down, and questioned, "Do you think that, apart from Demon Hunters and higher-level Beyonders of the corresponding pathway, Devils mainly get killed based on chance encounters in battles?"
Hisoka regarded Lumian with indifference and remained silent.
Lumian pulled up a chair and sat down, crossing his right foot over his left knee. Casually, he said, "I've read a mysticism book about Devils. It's filled with numerous cases of hunting Devils.
"It's clear that Beyonders of most pathways rely on chance encounters to kill specific Devils. That's what I believed back then. However, when I revisited the detailed description of Devil abilities, I found a contradiction.
"This is how the mysticism book describes your Danger Premonition:
"Danger Premonition, also known as Malicious Perception--if an enemy can soon cause lethal harm to a Devil and takes clear action to do so, a Devil can sense the danger in advance and grasp the source. They can target it, kill it, take revenge, or escape, but it's impossible to know the exact details of the plan. Different Devils have different intuition ranges--from a few minutes to a day, from a few kilometers to as wide as a city."
"What's the contradiction between this and a battle encounter?" Hisoka asked, sitting upright, cold and curious.
"According to this description, Devils can indeed sense a battle encounter," Lumian said with a smile. "For example, even though I only intended to have a cup of coffee today and suddenly encountered a Devil, and had no choice but to kill him. For that Devil, it's literal. He should have sensed that my coffee-drinking at the caf?? would pose a fatal danger to him in advance and that it would happen, but that's not the case in reality."
Observing Hisoka's thoughtful expression, Lumian clasped his hands together.
"This means that a Devil's Danger Premonition doesn't stem from fate. If it were a powerful Beyonder of the Monster pathway, there's a high chance they would suddenly feel that coffee isn't suitable today and avoid danger. But you can't.
"Since a Devil's Danger Premonition doesn't stem from precognition of fate, where does it stem from?
"Once, a high-ranking Demon enlightened me about the concept of the Abyss. According to its perspective, the Abyss holds two dimensions. The first is physical, with an entrance hidden somewhere in the real world. The second is in the mind, with an entrance nestled deep within everyone's hearts.
"Considering this insight, I believe we need to tweak the foundation of a Devil's Danger Premonition.
"It kicks in only when an adversary has a well-defined plan capable of inflicting fatal harm on a Devil soon. That's when the Devil can sense it beforehand.
"Got it? A more distinct thought process or intent."
Lumian adopted the cadence of Madam Magician to taunt Hisoka, weaving the narrative of his conspiracy.
"In the beginning, I probed bit by bit and investigated step by step. When I stumbled upon crucial information, I purposely skirted around it, leaving me in the dark about who I was dealing with and without a rough plan to handle the target.
"In simpler terms, I didn't have clear thoughts or intentions, and there was no effective plan to cause lethal harm to you anytime soon. Everything was vague, chaotic, and uncommitted, filled with variation and accidents, ensuring you couldn't naturally sense danger.
"However, your position alerted you when I delved into the serial murder from four years ago. Since then, you've been using a Wraith's ability and the patrol team members under your control to keep a vigilant eye on this matter, right?"
Hisoka listened coldly, showing no intention of responding.
Lumian smiled and continued, "After figuring out that you were hiding in the patrol team as a Zombie Sequence Beyonder, I resisted my urges and tried my best not to dwell on such matters. When I returned to the hotel, I immediately teleported to Trier.
"At this distance, you won't be able to sense that I'm formulating a plan and putting it into practice.
"After coming up with a preliminary plan, I went to Hidden Blade and my two other companions to discuss a detailed plan. It was just past 7 p.m. Trier time.
"The next move involved assigning tasks. Each of us had a role to play. We underwent a Hypnotist's Hypnotism, erasing our true purpose from memory. Only when a Devil like you emerged would we recall the specific details.
"My mission was to use teleportation, making it seem like I left, only to return stealthily using shadow concealment. I trailed the patrol team member I interacted with, believing that I was checking if there was anything problematic with him.
"Hidden Blade's mission was to tail me, providing necessary vigilance and support. If I activated the Bottle of Fiction ability, she'd preemptively don the Ring of Punishment and lie in wait outside. The reason for her ambush eluded her until she laid eyes on you. With her combat prowess and intelligence, she instinctively knew what steps to take. No need for me to give detailed instructions.
"The Hypnotist's mission involved using Psychological Invisibility to wander the vicinity, just aimlessly wandering.
"As for the other Demoness, her duty was to monitor the patrol team and promptly report any issues to the authorities. Before your arrival, she too was unaware of the real reason behind her actions. She simply thought we had plans involving the patrol team.
"Before the Hypnotism wore off, none of us had intentions of confronting you. Our individual actions couldn't pose lethal harm to you, ensuring you couldn't foresee it.
"This was a premeditated encounter, a clash pitting you against multiple adversaries."
With that final sentence, Lumian suddenly heard an illusory shattering sound.
He sensed that his Conspirer potion had been fully digested.
He also felt Hisoka's seemingly cold expression, vexation, and regret growing, gnawing at his heart.
Lumian's smile widened. He stood up, leaned forward, and inched his head in front of Hisoka. He looked into Hisoka's bloodshot flaxen-colored eyes and said, "Your biggest mistake was not leaving Port Pylos ahead of time and sticking with the patrol team.
"Why are you so certain I won't track you down?"
"How do you know I enjoy Fermo coffee without sugar?" Hisoka inquired instead of answering.
Sensing his intense anger and killing intent, Lumian straightened up and replied with a smile, "My sister always says that wherever you go, you leave a trace, and I have an expert at finding traces with me.
"Heh heh, Emperor Roselle must have said something similar. You must know what it means."
Hisoka's hands tightened on the chair's armrests as he asked again, "Why were you so sure I'll kill Kolobo?"
Lumian replied with a sense of satisfaction, "I wasn't certain.
"Didn't I mention I had a Demoness companion monitoring the patrol team?
"Hidden Blade and I believed that if you ultimately choose to escape, you will definitely do something to vent your murderous desires. Otherwise, something might happen to you, considering your Devil and Prisoner pathways. And since you want to kill someone, it's either the patrol team member who traded with me or Camus who gave me the information. It's either at the Matani Shop or in the patrol team."
At this juncture, Lumian guessed with a smile, "You took the gamble of staying in Port Pylos and the patrol team because you wanted to seize an opportunity to kill me? Under the watchful eyes of the Tarot Club and Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society, finding a chance to eliminate a promising young man like me and escape unscathed can satisfy your twisted mind to the fullest extent?"
Hisoka subconsciously licked his lips.
"I initially planned to bide my time, waiting for your patience to wear thin and an opportune moment to present itself. But it seems you didn't seek the assistance of the demigods; you only reached out to Hela.
"I should have struck last night."
Hisoka didn't conceal his frustration.
Lumian didn't immediately address the topic. After a few moments of contemplation, he said,
"Waiting for an opportunity… You're quite confident in concealing your identity. Unafraid of normal investigations,
"Is it because the higher-ups of the patrol team allowed a Sequence 6 of the Prisoner pathway to join?"
Hisoka sealed his lips, responding with silence.
"Seems there's a significant secret lurking here." Lumian suddenly sensed a conspiracy. "Is the opportunity you're waiting for connected to this secret?"
Hisoka maintained silence, his eyes transformed, now bloodthirsty and filled with a desire to kill.
"Not willing to share?" Lumian chuckled. "No problem. Let's discuss something else first."
He bent down again, looking at Hisoka.
"In this operation, I sought only Hela. Firstly, to guard against the Nois family Demons who had made contact with you. Secondly, to create an environment for a quiet conversation with you."
At the mention of the Nois family's Demons, Hisoka's gaze subtly shifted.
"How do you know?"
Lumian didn't reply. The corners of his mouth curled up even more.
"I chose Hela because I wanted to capture you alive, relying on my own strength and that of my companions.
"Each of us is weaker than you, and each of us is someone you think you can easily kill. However, as a team, through teamwork, we've put you in a tight spot. You'll descend into hell."
Hisoka shattered the chair's armrest, but he couldn't attack Lumian.
Observing his bloodshot eyes, Lumian retrieved a golden straw hat from his Traveler's Bag, pressed it to his chest, and bowed.
"I'll excuse myself for a moment," he said with a smile.
In the next moment, Lumian left the dream.
Swiftly shifting his sitting position, he leaned against a broken stone pillar. From his Traveler's Bag, he retrieved Gardner Martin's Beyonder characteristic, teeth, blood, Colorful Bearded Horned Lizard's venom, hornbeam essential oil, and other items.
He had genuinely sensed Hisoka's fear, anger, and frustration. Although it occurred in a dream, it was reflected in Hisoka's brain and body, real and intense.
He was about to concoct the Reaper potion.
-x-X-x-
In the ancient, crumbling palace of the Nation of the Evernight, Lumian carefully poured Gardner Martin's blood into a measuring cylinder and added the unusually sharp, small white bone blade that emitted a cold light.
During this process, he moved swiftly, paying no attention to the bone-blade-shaped Beyonder characteristic slicing his fingers and causing blood to flow. Instead, he ignited crimson flames, helping the wounds contract and preventing the white bone blade from entering the potion with his blood.
The physical pain heightened Lumian's clarity and excitement. He added Gardner Martin's two teeth, the Colorful Bearded Horned Lizard's venom, and the hornbeam essential oil into the bright red blood.
Bloop! Bloop! Bubbles bubbled in the blood, and the items mysteriously dissolved.
Soon, black iron dregs emerged from the bright-red blood, as if an iron weapon had shattered inside.
Lumian glanced at the still-slumbering "Hisoka" Twanaku, picked up the measuring cylinder, and poured the liquid into his mouth.
The pungent smell of blood, the unfamiliar taste of rust, and the burning sensation instantly filled Lumian's mouth and pierced his brain.
It felt like being caught in a chaotic war, constantly facing blades, firearms, and relentless enemy assaults. Wounds appeared all over his body, throbbing with pain.
Son of a sow, am I being attacked by a potion? Lumian muttered, bewildered, as he found himself locked in combat with a swarm of oncoming adversaries.
Fireballs, Fire Ravens, and blazing white spears shattered, tore through, or impaled the enemies, turning them into torches that illuminated the battlefield.
After an unknown span of time, Lumian felt his strength waning, his spiritual energy on the brink of exhaustion. The accumulated spirituality of an Ascetic had long been unleashed.
In that moment, a colossal figure materialized before him, radiating a formidable and intimidating aura.
Despite Lumian's weakening state, he sensed the colossal figure's fear, hatred, and frustration.
He's afraid of me... Lumian realized suddenly. Summoning the last shreds of his courage, he condensed a blazing white flaming spear and hurled it at the colossal figure.
A blinding white flame erupted, piercing through the colossal figure's head.
Rumble. The giant figure exploded from within, shattering into countless fragments.
Rumble. The entire battlefield crumbled.
Lumian shook off the daze and found himself in front of a crumbling ancient palace, its stone bricks weathered by time. Hisoka Twanaku still slumbered, and Hela stood silently by his side.
Sweat dripped from Lumian's body, bursting into crimson sparks.
Eventually, the sweat returned to normal.
Phew... Lumian let out a relieved breath. His spirituality was rapidly recovering.
He had advanced to become a Reaper.
Having completed the ritual of capturing a higher Sequence enemy alive and revealing his conspiracy, Lumian had consumed the potion and advanced to Sequence 5, a Reaper of the Hunter pathway.
Compared to his previous Sequences, Reaper bestowed three additional abilities:
The first, Weakness Investigation, allowed Lumian to discern the target's vulnerabilities and weak points in their defenses from a mystic perspective.
The second, Cull, could be infused into any attack to harvest the target's life. Any part struck by Cull was akin to an assault on vital points and weaknesses, dealing significant damage.
If Cull hit a genuine weakness or vital point, it could deliver a fatal blow, making it challenging for the target to withstand three consecutive attacks.
It could even inflict real damage on demigod-level creatures, provided they didn't block or successfully evade, and refrained from using mystic defenses.
The third, Precision, enabled Lumian to precisely target a predetermined location and manipulate fireballs, Fire Ravens, and other spells that had left his body.
He could split a colossal fireball into hundreds, striking different targets with precision, achieving effective area-of-effect damage.
It was a far cry from a blanket explosion, being more efficient and effective.
Both Cull and Precision demanded a substantial amount of spirituality, rivaling Lumian's current usage of teleportation.
The exception was the combination of Precision and Fire Raven, as Fire Raven could allocate a bit of spirituality and was easily manipulated. Even with Precision, its consumption of spirituality wasn't significant.
Lumian also felt a significant enhancement in his spirituality. His mind cleared, and his life force intensified. He could compress flames to a blazing white state in an incredibly short time, merging with flaming spears and swiftly covering dozens to hundreds of meters. Ignoring the spirituality consumption, he could travel using this method.
While Lumian's strength, speed, and physique had improved, he was still not resilient enough to withstand a bullet with his body.
...
At the entrance of the mostly collapsed male bathroom in the Matani Import and Export Shop, the silver-white full-body armor burst out, wielding a light-condensed hammer in both hands.
It searched left and right but couldn't locate its target. Gradually, it seemed to "calm down."
From a nearby shadow, Franca emerged, her eyes assessing Kolobo within the half-collapsed bathroom. His life wasn't at risk, but his injuries were significant, and he appeared weakened.
He'll be Pride Armor's next target... Franca thought quickly. Seizing the moment while Pride Armor was still on the lookout for the backstabber and hadn't chosen a new target, she swiftly approached. Franca grabbed the motionless silver full-body armor and deftly stowed it into her Traveler's Bag.
"Meet up with Jenna!" Franca called out to Anthony, positioned outside the corridor.
In an instant, she melted into the shadows, disappearing from sight.
…
Surveying his newfound abilities, Lumian felt a surge of delight. Is this Reaper… If I were to confront Hisoka now, breaking through his defenses wouldn't be a concern. My craving for combat and slaughter has intensified… Having adapted to the changes in his body, Lumian turned to Hela and expressed his gratitude.
"Thank you."
Hela, not seeing any cause for gratitude, sighed and commented, "Your team's teamwork is impressive."
"Madame Hela, the ritual has succeeded, but I wish to enter Hisoka's dream again and inquire about something else," Lumian requested.
Hela nodded in agreement.
"The ritual requires him to remain lucid. He might lie, but the questioning doesn't need him to be lucid."
As she finished speaking, Lumian suddenly closed his eyes, slumping to the ground against a dilapidated stone pillar.
The corners of his mouth remained curled up, and his expression gradually turned calm.
In the dream's interrogation room, Lumian took a seat across from Hisoka and addressed the captive, whose malice and desire to kill were no longer concealed.
"Thank you for your help. I've become a Reaper."
Hisoka, leaning forward, seemed to forget that he could attack.
"So what if you're a Reaper? In a duel, I'd still kill you easily!
"If you hadn't joined forces with Hidden Blade and relied on numbers, you would have been dead!"
No longer lucid, he's finally revealing his true thoughts in the dream… Lumian chuckled and responded, "If I can create an opportunity to fight with numbers, why should I face you one-on-one?
"My companions are also a part of my strength."
Hisoka spoke with malice, "Do you truly trust that Hypnotist?
"It's very dangerous to open up your body and mind to a Hypnotist. Aren't you afraid that he'll take the opportunity to leave some hidden cues that will unknowingly bring you under his control?"
Lumian gazed at Hisoka for a moment before breaking into a smile.
"Perhaps that's why I defeated you. No wonder Mad Lady said you weren't pure enough.
"Firstly, I do trust him. We've been through life and death together.
"Secondly, I'm willing to take such a risk to kill all of you!"
Straightening up, Lumian locked eyes with Hisoka, enunciating each word, "Even if I plunge into the Abyss, even if I descend into hell, I shall witness your tragic demise!"
Hisoka fell silent.
Lumian eased back into his seat, composed himself, and casually inquired, "I learned from Devilology that a Devil requires a ritual to advance to Desire Apostle. It's best if it's a special serial killing ritual. However, other than the one four years ago, there's only been one in Port Pylos recently. Furthermore, I've already killed the murderer. How did you advance?
"With a boon? You couldn't have become a Desire Apostle four years ago, could you?"
Hisoka responded with a smile, "Just because you don't know doesn't mean it didn't happen."
Lumian's heart stirred.
"Was one of those two pranks to cover up your advancement ritual?"
Lumian ventured, drawing from the scattered information he had gleaned from the peripheral members of April Fool's. They were like scattered pieces of a puzzle, each offering a fragment of the truth but lacking the full picture.
The tales spoke of chaos unleashed: a disappearance of gold in the depths of Devise, and a clash between townsfolk and a primitive tribe in Tizamo Town, resulting in tragedy.
Lumian suspected that Hisoka's advancement ritual had been shrouded within the chaos of Tizamo's prank.
Hisoka's eyes sparkled with approval, his tone paternal.
"You're quite perceptive."
Lumian seized the moment to shift the conversation.
"What's up with the Nois family's Demon?"
He treaded cautiously, sidestepping the Celestial Worthy and the Mother Tree of Desire, for now.
Hisoka's expression turned cold.
"I aimed to utilize him to acquire something and carry out a ritual to appease him repeatedly, but he only formed a connection with me. He only granted me an opportunity two years ago."
Something… Two years ago… The pranks in the gold mine city and the town of Tizamo took place after this. One happened at the close of the preceding year, while the other unfolded at the close of last year… Lumian started suspecting that these two pranks might have motives beyond concealing the advancement ritual.
Before he could delve deeper, Hisoka asked vehemently and frenziedly, "Why didn't you seek the Tarot Club's assistance this time?"
Lumian arched his eyebrows and inquired with confusion, "Why does it matter to you? Even without the Tarot Club's aid, I could have successfully dealt with you."
-x-X-x-
In the beige, four-story patrol team building, Camus had managed to break free from the poker card's influence. He discovered Sow sprawled in a pool of blood, brutally torn apart by two zombie-like undead creatures.
In neighboring rooms, another patrol team member, under Twanaku's control, put up a stubborn resistance. His comrades had already fallen victim to the relentless assault.
Camus, catching his breath, hadn't anticipated stumbling upon an assassination plot within the patrol team, putting his own life at risk.
His gaze fixed on Deputy Captain Reaza, a middle-aged man in a sleek black suit controlling the undead creatures. Confused, Camus inquired, "How did Sow end up joining the Rose School of Thought?
"And why are so many members under their control?"
Despite Camus resisting the poker card's influence, Jenna's earlier shout lingered in his mind.
Reaza, surveying the scene of blood and undead, responded after a moment of contemplation, "It's likely Twanaku's doing."
Twanaku... Camus recalled the questions raised by Louis Berry.
Was Twanaku truly responsible for the serial murders four years ago?
Could he be a Devil in disguise?
Frowning, Camus grumbled, "Keeping a Zombie on the team was already a significant risk. Just because he can show restraint doesn't clear him from suspicion of being a Rose School of Thought member. He might indulge at specific times."
Reaza, with a stern demeanor, spoke in a deep voice, "We'd confirmed he defected from the Rose School of Thought. He believes in The Fool."
"The Fool, the temperance faction?" Camus asked in surprise,
not expecting such a revelation.
...
In the dream's interrogation room, housed within the ancient and crumbling palace of the Nation of the Evernight, Hisoka couldn't contain his amusement at Lumian's question.
"If you had sought the Tarot Club's assistance, I could have killed you!"
Hisoka's laughter reverberated, and his black shadow danced on the wall, morphing into curved goat horns and colossal bat wings.
Lumian caught a whiff of a conspiracy and asked in confusion and curiosity, "Why do you think so?"
Hisoka rose, a murderous glint materializing in his eyes.
"If you involve the Tarot Club, they'll undoubtedly seek my aid in your investigation."
At this point, Hisoka's lips curled into an unusually flamboyant smile.
No longer conscious in the dream, he revealed his innermost self.
Lumian raised an eyebrow, asking, "Are you a Minor Arcana card holder?"
Hisoka shook his head, replying with a radiant smile, "I'm a member of the temperance faction, a devotee of Mr. Fool."
The Devil burst into laughter, bowing and exclaiming, "Praise The Fool!"
Lumian, finding it absurd and amusing, instinctively analyzed the situation.
Hisoka is actually a member of the Rose School of Thought's temperance faction? A flamboyant and malicious Devil is actually a member of the temperance faction?
Logically speaking, this was clearly impossible!
Yet, in this dream crafted by Hela, unless Hisoka possessed unique abilities to deceive, lying was unlikely.
The only plausible explanation: he had infiltrated the temperance faction through deception and deceit!
On the surface, Hisoka seemed to be a Beyonder of the Prisoner pathway, displaying a level of restraint. As a non-core member of the temperance faction, he might have gone unnoticed with his issues.
Right, is this why the Matani patrol team allowed a Prisoner pathway Beyonder to join?
This was more than four years ago. Back then, Hisoka was merely a Sequence 8 Lunatic of the Prisoner pathway, not yet a Mid-Sequence Beyonder. As a peripheral member of the temperance faction, he likely operated without much scrutiny.
Moreover, he probably joined the temperance faction before this, when he was weaker and less noticeable.
Later, he faked receiving resources from the temperance faction and the Rose School of Thought's attack to advance. In reality, did he rely on the Mother Tree of Desire's boons? Where did those resources go? Were they secretly sold or crafted into a mystical item? That poker card?
Why did he infiltrate the temperance faction and worship Mr. Fool?
His main goal clearly isn't resources...
Faith in Mr. Fool…
With this in mind, Lumian suddenly had a guess.
Hisoka's true aim was to infiltrate the Church of The Fool through a certain pathway and have faith in Mr. Fool!
This revelation came from Celestial Worthy!
Hisoka genuinely believes in the Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings. However, that Celestial Worthy is resisting Mr. Fool. He can clearly influence the Seer, Apprentice, and Marauder pathways…
Hisoka used a specific technique during prayer. On the surface, he seemed to be praying to Mr. Fool, but in reality, did he receive a message from that Celestial Worthy? This way, he wouldn't face the risk of a false premise…
That's very likely… Madam Magician mentioned that if I don't follow the procedures when praying to Mr. Fool, the response might not be from him, but from the Celestial Worthy…
Why did Celestial Worthy make Hisoka do this?
Marauder… Steal… Could It be that He intends to gradually steal Mr. Fool's identity and faith through this method?
When many believers genuinely believe in Mr. Fool, but they equate him as the Celestial Worthy, the Celestial Worthy becomes The Fool?
Hiss, the more I think about it, the more terrifying it becomes…
Hisoka can't do it alone. There must be many others who share similar beliefs…
Impressive. If the Celestial Worthy usually gathers followers, the Tarot Club would wipe them out at the slightest hint. Yet, if their followers outwardly professed faith in Mr. Fool, not only would they escape destruction, but they'd also gain protection…
How devious…
Lumian swiftly deduced the situation, sensing the ominous pressure from the hidden Celestial Worthy.
Once marked by Him, failure could creep in unnoticed and strike him down unexpectedly!
Considering this, Lumian recalled Port Pylos and grasped Hisoka's confidence. He also comprehended why Hisoka had opted to remain and wait patiently.
Freshly arrived in the Southern Continent and stepping into Port Pylos for the first time, Lumian lacked resources, companions, and even knowledge of Dutanese. There was a high likelihood that he'd seek aid from the Tarot Club standing behind him.
The Major Arcana card holders of the Tarot Club wouldn't personally intervene without a clear target due to the uncertain timeframe. They would likely dispatch a Minor Arcana card holder familiar with the Southern Continent or a faction member to assist.
Under these circumstances, who better to meet the requirements than Twanaku Tupián, a Church of The Fool's temperance faction member from Matani, well-versed in the local situation, holding the appropriate official status, and reaching Sequence 6.
In that scenario, Lumian and Hisoka would investigate Hisoka. The other party would gradually grasp the situation, assess potential traps and their effectiveness. Hisoka could then seize the opportunity for a surprise attack, assault the mind, and trigger desires!
Contemplating this, Lumian acknowledged that if he failed to detect Hisoka's malice during the investigation, the chances of succumbing to Hisoka's hands were 100%. He'd be a spectator as the Devil faced off against Termiboros in the form of a soul fragment.
Hisoka, informed by Loki, should have made preparations to deal with the dangerous creature within the seal. Perhaps relying on the Nois family's Demon or his status as a Blessed of the Mother Tree of Desire.
Thankfully, Madam Magician kept reminding me that a Hunter can't rely on high-ranking individuals behind an organization for everything. I need to hone my skills, familiarize myself with conspiracies and battles. Otherwise, I might have sought guidance from the Tarot Club as soon as I arrived in Port Pyro…
That would have been dangerous…
Grande Soeur and Emperor Roselle both mentioned that the most dangerous places are often the safest. Now, I must add that those who seem the safest and most reliable might pose the greatest risk…
It's not that they're no longer trustworthy, but the enemy will exploit this sense of security.
Yes, Madam Magician has also emphasized that if anything seems awry with her orders and suggestions, I should ignore them. Quickly contacting the other Major Arcana card holders to confirm the situation is crucial.
Lumian gazed at the flamboyant Hisoka and smiled.
"If I hadn't received help from a special trace expert, if Hidden Blade hadn't been more familiar with your persona, and if I hadn't had a Psychiatrist to profile you, and ultimately failed to find any clues or direction, I would have sought the Tarot Club's help and looked for a guide familiar with the local situation."
Hisoka fell into silence. After a few moments, he spoke up, "I get everything else, but why the sudden need for a special trace expert?"
Lumian chuckled.
"Because it's a gift from a true god."
The more time Lumian spent with Ludwig, the more he felt that letting such a dangerous individual escape the Church's control wasn't a decision a high-ranking member of the Church of Knowledge would make. There had to be a revelation from the God of Knowledge and Wisdom.
Certainly, Lumian couldn't be sure. As far as he knew, the Knowledge pathway, also known as the Reader pathway, excelled in prophecies at high Sequence.
Hisoka fell into silence for a moment before unleashing a roar, much like a wild wolf howling beneath the moon.
Lumian reviewed the entire incident, realizing that this revenge was a clash of conspiracies. Unfortunately, Hisoka didn't grasp his personality and style well enough, nor did he comprehend his companions. He could only rely on the sea prayer ritual and Loki's first death as a guide. Consequently, there was a deviation, shattering his expectations despite a high likelihood of success.
Phew… Lumian exhaled and inquired, "Who were the ones causing havoc on the patrol team's side?"
-x-X-x-
Upon hearing Lumian's question, Hisoka's lips curved into a smile.
"Those are a few Fallen, under my control."
"Fallen?" Lumian could understand the literal meaning, but he didn't grasp the situation.
Simultaneously, he criticized Hisoka.
This is truly a dream. Emotions change so quickly.
Hisoka reminisced, "A Desire Apostle can plant a seed in others' hearts when their emotions and desires clearly fluctuate, causing corresponding problems to worsen. Gradually, they lose control and degenerate.
"When combined with my special abilities, I can make those humans unable to escape my control and obey only me for a long period through repeated depravities."
It's akin to injecting addictive psychiatric drugs, but more mystical? Lumian searched for analogous examples from an easy-to-understand perspective.
Suddenly, he recalled Naboredisley's description of Demons: "Demon in body, Demon in mind..."
Could this be a manifestation of the Demon within the mind? Is Hisoka's distinctiveness reflected in this aspect? Could it be that the individual from the temperance faction liaising with him has been tainted by his influence, causing them to withhold reporting any irregularities? Lumian gazed thoughtfully at Hisoka and inquired, "Indeed, as one would expect from an Apostle of Desire, a Demon that seduces the darkness of the mind. Is this a ritual for ascending to a Demon?"
"Just acclimating for now," Hisoka didn't refute, yet he sensed the current situation was far from ideal. It felt more like a rehearsal.
"You seem quite assured. Following the incident in Tizamo Town at year's end, you likely ascended to a Desire Apostle. It's only been a year, and you're already contemplating becoming a demigod?" Lumian mused briefly before questioning, "Is it because you finally appeased that Demon from the Nois family and acquired that thing?"
Even in his reverie, Hisoka appeared hesitant to disclose this matter. He responded with a hint of reluctance, "Yes."
Lumian refrained from provoking Hisoka for the time being, ensuring the dream didn't end prematurely. He altered his question.
"Where is that thing?"
When Hisoka transformed into a Devil, his attire ruptured, and nothing unusual dropped.
Hisoka's countenance contorted as he responded, "I-in Tizamo Town."
Concealed in his body's hometown, Tizamo Town... If it's significant, why doesn't he carry it with him? Lumian's curiosity about the two pranks orchestrated by Hisoka in Tizamo Town and the gold mine city, Devise, intensified.
After a brief pause of contemplation, Lumian inquired, "You staged a prank in Devise just to pilfer a batch of gold?"
"Yes," Hisoka affirmed.
Have you consumed too many novels like the Gold Heist? Were you in dire need of such a large sum of money back then? Yes, for criminals, it's quite normal to plan an operation to snatch gold when necessary. Unlike me, who relies on hunting and the gifts of villains... Just as Lumian thought it was trivial, he suddenly considered something.
Franca has been accumulating gold for future sacrifices to the Armored Shadow, Chen Tu...
Could Hisoka have orchestrated a prank to obtain a substantial amount of gold for a similar sacrifice? Lumian scrutinized Hisoka and probed, "Did you offer the gold as a sacrifice to the Nois family's Demon?"
Hisoka replied nonchalantly, "In Tizamo Town."
"What's in Tizamo Town?" Lumian asked.
Hisoka appeared to snap out of his daze and exclaimed with a contorted expression, "Dream Festival, Dream Festival!"
His shadow surged to life, leaping onto him and shrouding him.
Hisoka reverted to pitch-black, transforming into a viscous, repulsive, and malevolent liquid that spread swiftly in all directions, as if determined to corrupt the interrogation room, Lumian, and the entire dream.
Lumian promptly exited the dream and observed Hisoka, who lay asleep on the ground, displaying signs of Devilification once more. Furthermore, he seemed somewhat translucent.
This key member of April Fool's was teetering on the brink of losing control!
Without hesitation, Lumian materialized a longsword crafted from blazing white flames in his hand.
The Hisoka figure before him emitted a myriad of colors, with the pale-white mark on the bridge of his nose being the least conspicuous.
Weakness Investigation!
Paleness signified a vulnerability.
Lumian hoisted the flaming sword, gripping it with both hands, and thrust downward, vanishing into the pale-white hue.
The Devil-like armor, resilient flesh, and steel-like bones bestowed by Zombie endured only a second before being pierced.
Lumian withdrew his blazing-white flaming sword and thrust down again.
Pfft!
This time, it penetrated deeper.
Lumian extracted the blazing-white flaming sword once more and leaped up, adding his weight to the downward thrust.
Pfft!
Lumian genuflected, and the flaming sword plunged into Hisoka's brain, transforming into scattered flames that obliterated all weakness.
Lumian withdrew his hands and stood up.
Hisoka's body, displaying signs of Devilification, twitched a few times before settling.
Adjacent to the bridge of his nose, a two-finger-wide wound appeared grotesquely abnormal. Its surface was charred and contracted, while flames surged from within.
The Devil had lost his life.
How resilient. He managed to withstand three strikes like this… Lumian gazed at Hisoka's corpse and silently sighed.
In that moment, Hisoka's corpse swiftly turned transparent, and his light brown skin gradually faded to pale-white.
Wraith… Transforming into a genuine wraith after death? Just as these thoughts crossed Lumian's mind, his surroundings abruptly darkened.
In the depths of the darkness, a serene chant resonated, soothing one's body and mind, inducing a reluctance to do anything but lie still.
All escape was tranquility.
Hisoka's wraith form halted its transformation, gradually gaining a tangible quality.
Finally, he perished completely.
What a formidable adversary to vanquish… If his wraith transformation hadn't been halted, could he have endured as a true wraith, evolving into an evil spirit in the future? Lumian glanced at Hela beside him and spoke once more, "Thank you."
He refrained from elaborating his conversation with Hisoka, recognizing that they had spoken in the dream created by Hela. She must be aware of it.
"Loki is the only one left," Hela said coldly, her gaze fixed on Hisoka's lifeless form.
Lumian fell silent for a few seconds before stating, "He can't be resurrected more than a few times."
"At most one more time," Hela replied with certainty.
Another time… Lumian tersely acknowledged.
Before long, Hisoka's Beyonder characteristic manifested, blending with the remaining goat horns above his head, transforming into a whimsical and flamboyant cluster of black crystals.
Various crystals extended in all directions, sharp and crooked. Multiple illusory, translucent faces emerged from each black crystal, their expressions alternating between malevolence, pain, madness, and confusion.
A Desire Apostle Beyonder characteristic corrupted by a Wraith boon? Lumian perceived it as more corrupting and perilous than the Serial Killer Beyonder characteristic from before.
He pointed at the Beyonder characteristic and Hisoka's lifeless body, addressing Hela, "Can I take them all?"
"Okay," Hela responded without objections.
…
In an old warehouse on an abandoned dock in Port Pylos, Franca, Anthony, and Jenna had already gathered, awaiting Lumian's return.
Amidst their conversation, a figure outlined itself in the sunlight streaming through a high window. It was Lumian, wearing a golden straw hat and disguised as Louis Berry.
Pa!
Lumian tossed Hisoka's corpse to the ground.
Immediately after, he retrieved the Beyonder characteristic from his Traveler's Bag and placed them near the corpse without touching them.
Only then did he smile at Franca, Jenna, and Anthony.
"It's settled."
"Is it really Hisoka?" Franca couldn't believe it could be so straightforward.
"It's him," Lumian briefly explained the situation. "He was overconfident and believed there's a high chance of killing me. He chose to stay and wait for an opportunity."
"What gave him the confidence?" Franca's eyes widened.
Since everyone present held a Minor Arcana card, Lumian didn't hold anything back. He recounted the situation, omitting the most perilous details.
"Can that really happen… Luckily, you didn't seek guidance from the Tarot Club." Jenna felt a lingering fear.
Franca sighed and commented, "I didn't think our collaboration alone would be sufficient."
Lumian pointed at the Beyonder characteristic and stated, "There's too much corruption, and it's very dangerous. I plan to seek Madam Magician's help and find a suitable Artisan to transform it into a Sealed Artifact. Everyone has the right to use it."
Lumian found it too sinister and corrupting. It couldn't become a mystical item with relatively mild negative effects. It could only be the kind that required sealing.
"Absolutely." Franca was filled with anticipation as she imagined the potential abilities of a Sealed Artifact.
She suddenly recalled something and quickly blurted out, "Your Pride Armor is still in my possession. Tsk, you've really gotten the most out of it."
Lumian chuckled.
"How can I face Devils without a Warrior? I've always wanted to use the Pride Armor, but I didn't expect Hisoka to choose the most convenient place like the bathroom."
It was a confined, tight space with a certain degree of flexibility.
Franca retrieved the Pride Armor from her Traveler's Bag and placed it on the ground.
Suddenly, the air in the old warehouse froze.
The silver-white full-body armor turned to face Lumian, condensing into a broadsword of light. Then, it knelt on one knee and thrust into the ground.
Wh— Lumian's pupils dilated as his figure abruptly faded, disappearing from his spot.
The broadsword of light split open, transforming into a devastating storm that engulfed the surroundings, obliterating numerous wooden crates.
Wh— Franca, Jenna, and Anthony couldn't dodge in time and were shattered into fragments by the Hurricane of Light, reflecting brilliance.
"Dammit! Isn't this too vengeful? How much time has passed?!" Franca cursed from a corner of the warehouse.