134 COI

Having considered his next direction, Lumian looked out the carriage window.

By now, the hired carriage had reached the gray-white city walls encircling Trier, queuing to leave the city.

The Church of The Fool's newly established cathedral in Trier was located in the suburbs, right next to where the Srenzo River curved. The river was wide there, with convenient transportation, both a dock and a station, in a picturesque town.

After arriving at this town called Ramb, Lumian discovered it wasn't small at all, with numerous steamships at the dock and streets bustling with people, extraordinarily lively.

After asking the carriage driver, Lumian roughly understood the reason.

Most goods entering Trier had to pay an entry tax. though rates varied. Therefore, many goods that didn't need to be sold in Trier or transit through it were unloaded at Ramb and sent to surrounding towns. This gradually made the town prosperous, attracting many maritime merchants, adventurers, and sailors, bringing with them the faith of The Fool.

Lumian had heard from Franca that the Eternal Blazing Sun Church had long wanted to abolish the entry tax to promote commerce and improve circulation, but this tax was one of the Intis Republic's main sources of revenue, and Trier's entry tax alone equaled the sum of several major cities' entry taxes. The government simply couldn't give it up.

Lumian put on a wide-brimmed hat, letting the black veil fall, and began wandering around Ramb.

Soon, he found what was now called Saint Lumian Cathedral, the Church of The Fool's location, but didn't rush to enter. He just stood on the street for a while, admiring the large glass windows and plain walls.

I hope one day, no clergy will say that Saint Lumian will have to make do with their actions... After making this self-deprecating joke, Lumian continued walking.

The main faith in this town was the Eternal Blazing Sun, worshiping Trier's patron angel Saint Viève.

Lumian examined the white stone angel statue for a few moments before walking into a bar diagonally across the square.

This bar had good business, and on weekends, many people from Trier would come to freely enjoy various alcoholic beverages that didn't require entry tax.

As soon as Lumian pushed open the bar's heavy wooden door, he felt gazes turn toward him-some surprised, some amazed, some greedy, some excited, and some like snakes slowly slithering across his body.

He then remembered that he was now a lady, an extremely charming lady, even with her face hidden behind a veil.

It was never like this when he was a man before-at most, thieves would observe to judge if there was any value or possibility of theft... Ah, the sense of belonging at "home" is gone… Lumian slowly shook his head and directly took out a revolver from his Traveler's Bag.

He placed his hand on the doorframe, pointed the revolver at the ceiling, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Bang!

The bullet brought down clusters of dust, and the people in the bar, like athletes hearing the starting gun, quickly scattered in all directions.

This left Lumian a spacious path to the bar counter.

When the chaotic scene of people taking cover had somewhat settled, Lumian deactivated the Bottle of Fiction and, holding the revolver, walked toward the bar counter while saying in an icy but soft voice, "I just want a drink."

He then sat on a barstool, tapped the counter, and said to the bartender who was staring at him blankly. "One La Fée Verte"

The bartender finally snapped out of it and hurriedly poured Lumian an absinthe with a splash of lemon juice.

Lumian didn't remove his hat or lift his veil, slowly sipping the bitter and fragrant liquor.

The other people in the bar gradually returned to normal. In this small town frequently visited by pirates and adventurers, they were used to such things, which explained their practiced response earlier.

Lumian quietly listened to their chitchat and whispers. trying to discover useful intelligence, especially anything pointing to the Sick Church.

But unfortunately, what he heard was mainly discussion about himself.

The most discussed topic was what it meant to be a person of dual bodies.

There were artistic interpretations, such as "having a male body but also a female side, being both flame and frost," and there were vulgar ones, like "busty up top, hard down below."

Lumian turned his gaze toward the drunk who had said the latter.

His highland lake-like eyes were like mirrors, reflecting the other's figure.

The drunk was making obscene gestures to accompany his earlier description when his chest and lower body suddenly experienced intense pain, as if being burned by flames.

He screamed in agony and fell to the ground, rolling in pain.

This stunned those around him who had been agreeing with his joke.

After about ten seconds, the drunk finally came back to life. He supported himself on a nearby chair and stood up trembling.

"What just happened?"

"Sudden illness?"

"You should go to a clinic right away!"

The people around him spoke up in a jumble.

The drunk shook his head in confusion.

"It just hurt suddenly, but now I'm fine…"

As he spoke, he looked down to check his physical condition and was surprised to find his chest had strangely swollen from unknown burns, while his lower half had become like stone, tenting his pants.

Almost simultaneously, those around him also noticed this condition.

"Busty up top, hard down below..." someone repeated the drunk's earlier words.

Wh- The people around quickly moved away from the area, all looking at the drunk with wary gazes: It was him who insulted the saint, it has nothing to do with us!

We weren't standing next to him either, don't let the lightning strike affect us!

In their fear, everyone present unconsciously had the same thought: Is the Church of The Fool's new patron saint really this efficacious?

Lumian withdrew his gaze, letting the reflected figure in his eyes disappear.

This was a small punishment, not affecting any essential functions or physical health.

For Lumian, he didn't care at all if someone insulted him-he would just find an opportunity to play a prank. But insulting Aurore was not acceptable.

Moreover, this was also an opportunity, a chance to reasonably use fear to spread faith.

It could also help digest the Witch potion.

Lumian looked at the absinthe in his hand, seeing his veiled, half-visible face reflected in the dreamlike green liquid.

…

The deep red wine swirled gently, with three faceless wooden dolls placed beside it.

Franca leaned back in her chair, leisurely admiring the blood color permeating the wooden grain and the hair that had slipped into the crevices.

After looking for a few seconds, she turned to look at the three men standing in front of the desk and smiled, saying, "I only have two requirements for you:

"First, help me collect various intelligence, and second, follow these thirteen rules I've established and treat those dancers and streetwalkers well."

After Franca finished speaking, Jenna, standing beside her, held up the paper and began reading.

"First, no coercion,

"Second, ensure adequate rest;

…

"Thirteenth, provide basic medical care."

"We're the mafia, not some damned charity!" burst out the most hot-tempered of the three.

Franca laughed.

"Right, I'm not doing charity either."

She then flicked out a quiet black flame, letting it fall on one of the wooden dolls.

The doll was immediately covered in black flames. silently burning.

The gang leader who had just spoken suddenly screamed in agony as strange black flames erupted from within his body.

He fell to his knees in pain, his face contorted as he shouted, "I-I was wrong.

"I am doing charity!

"I agree! I agree!"

Neither Franca nor Jenna responded, watching silently until the gang leader collapsed to the ground, convulsing until death.

Only then did Franca look at the other two gang leaders and ask with a smile, "Any objections?"

"None." The two gang leaders seemed to be competing to see who could shake their head faster.

After Jenna posted the paper with the thirteen rules on the wall, Franca stood up and said.

"Remember to look at it every day, and if there's any violation..."

Franca picked up the remaining two wooden dolls.

"You should know what they represent-they're a Demoness's curse medium."

After becoming a Demoness of Pleasure who could directly curse through mirrors, Franca no longer used such black magic in battle, but mirror curses were real-time and couldn't be fixed in place. To control these two gang leaders and make them obey, she still needed to make media like dolls using their blood and hair.

And for a Demoness of Unaging, possessing such media could also affect the targets' direct relatives.

"We know, we know." The two gang leaders began their nodding competition again.

Jenna thought for a moment and said to Franca, "May I add one rule?"

"Of course." Franca smiled.

Jenna picked up the pen and added another rule to the posted paper: "Rule Fourteen, loan shark annual interest cannot exceed 36%, and no additional fees such as handling fees or service charges can be collected."

"No problem, right?" Jenna turned and smiled.

The two gang leaders being questioned dared not object.

Franca put away the two curse dolls and casually said as she walked toward the door,

"I know you have some supporters behind you. I don't care what they think, nor will I interfere with your territory disputes or making money here. I only want those two things I mentioned earlier.

"If your supporters aren't satisfied, let them come see this statue."

As she spoke, strands of gray-white light spread out and fell on the dead gang leader's body.

The corpse quickly turned into a stone statue.

"No problem with that, right? You'll quietly notify me if they want to move against me, won't you?" Franca turned back to look at the remaining two gang leaders and asked with a smile.

The two gang leaders first showed uncontrollable fascination, then hurriedly responded, "We will! We will!"

Leaving the room, Franca walked toward the dancers and streetwalkers waiting nervously at the stairway.

"Boss..." several girls called out joyfully.

Franca nodded gently and said, "Things will go back to how they were before.

"But I still want to say, this isn't a long-term profession."

…

Across from the Théâtre de l'Ancienne Cage à Pigeons, Franca and Jenna sat on a street bench, calmly watching the audience and actors coming and going.

"Not going over to say hello?" Jenna asked.

Franca smiled. "No need, since they're doing fine, there's no need to go over."

"That's true." Jenna nodded slightly.

Franca then turned her head and said, half serious and half joking. "This is left for you-in the future, you'll be the protector of actresses."

After watching for a while longer, they returned to the luxury villa.

By this time, Lumian had already returned and was saying to Anthony, "Help me collect intelligence on the Sick Church."

"The Sick Church..." Franca suddenly understood what Lumian wanted to do and quickly smiled, "I have intelligence sources now too, I'll have them keep an eye out!"

-x-X-x-

Late at night.

Neither Anthony's intelligence channels, nor Franca's gang informants, nor Jenna's neighborhood contacts were able to provide any information related to the Sick Church.

Franca sat down at the mechanical typewriter, turned on the wireless telegraph transceiver, preparing to ask 007 if the Eternal Blazing Sun Church had gathered any valuable intelligence.

'Ding, group message notification: Hidden Blade, who did another good deed today, has joined the chat!' Franca announced her arrival in the telegraph group.

Before she could send a second message, she saw a telegram come in with 007 as the header: 'Hidden Blade, you didn't actually advance to Sequence 4, but to Sequence 3, right?'

The other telegrams that should have responded to Franca suddenly came to a halt.

Franca was stunned at first, then understood.

Wow, I originally didn't want to show off about this, but you helped me do it anyway?

She felt she should display three parts helplessness, three parts pain, three parts confusion, plus one part inevitable secret joy, so she carefully replied: 'Ah… yes.'

After a brief, indescribable silence, one telegram after another was spat out by the small analyzer under queue control, accompanied by clicking sounds.

The mechanical typewriter seemed overwhelmed, working so hard it might start smoking.

'Are you serious?'

'Hidden Blade, that kind of joke isn't funny, it's too cruel!'

'Hidden Blade, I remember you mentioning just a month ago that you were a Sequence 5 Demoness of Affliction, and now you're Sequence 3 in just a month? Even a rocket isn't that fast!'

'Have you been blessed by the God of Fortune lately?'

'A Sequence 3 Demoness, I can't imagine how beautiful and charming…'

'Really, are there any secrets to advancing? Name your price, we brothers might be able to scrape together a down payment.'

'Hidden Blade, did something happen to you? Do you need any help? At my sequence, I might not be able to participate in combat, but I can help curse those people!'

'…'

'007, how did you know?'

After the expression of various emotions and feelings, someone finally brought the topic back on track.

007 replied: 'Hidden Blade is now a patron saint of a cathedral, with her own honorific name.'

Sure enough, the changes at Saint Franca Cathedral had been noticed by the Eternal Blazing Sun Church, and 007 had known before that I was 'Red Boots' Franca Roland… Franca's speculation was confirmed.

'Patron saint… honorific name… I really can't connect these two terms with the 'life is short, why not give it a shot' Hidden Blade.' Moon King was the first to marvel.

'Indeed.' Wind Sound sent a telegram in response. 'It's too surreal, too surreal, more surreal than any fantasy novel!'

'Please show some respect to the great Hidden Blade!'

'Lord Hidden Blade, is there any chance you could take me as your apprentice?'

'You want to become a Demoness too? If I remember correctly, you can switch.'

'I can't accept that the strongest in the research society is now the silly Hidden Blade…'

'Hey, if you put it that way, wouldn't that make us even more silly and stupid?'

'…'

Looking at these telegrams, Franca couldn't help but curl her lips into a smile.

I have to say, showing off like this feels pretty good!

Moreover, those joking remarks gave her a sense of still being grounded, still connected to the masses.

'Hey hey hey,' she quickly typed out the words, 'You don't really think I'm brainless, do you? I was just being approachable before, trying to get along with you all.'

Then, she humbly added: 'Madame Hela should also be Sequence 3 now, either a bit earlier or later than me.

'As for the President, I'm not quite sure.'

'So you really are Sequence 3… Is there anything you can tell us about it?' Wind Sound and others asked in succession.

Franca elaborated a bit more than before: 'In advancing to Sequence 4, digesting the Sequence 4 potion, and advancing to Sequence 3, I met some special conditions as a transmigrator that allowed me to take shortcuts, so I became a Saint with an honorific name within a month.'

She didn't mention that she had completely digested the Sequence 3 potion, after all, the telegraph group had quite a few members, and most of which she hadn't met in the real world. Although she was willing to trust their character, she couldn't gamble on their circumstances—critical information about her Sequence abilities still needed to be kept secret.

Besides, if someone asked what a Sequence 3 Demoness was called, Franca didn't want to hide it, because after 007 pointed out that she was already a patron saint of a cathedral, her honorific name couldn't be hidden from those who paid attention. This way, some telegraph group members might make certain connections between the instant digestion of a Sequence potion and the name Demoness of Unaging.

'One month…'

'Really only took one month…'

'…'

At this point, Moon King, Wind Sound, and others seemed to have lost even the mood to joke.

'So what kind of Demoness are you now?' After a while, group member Little Peppa asked.

I knew it! Franca immediately replied: 'Demoness of Unaging.'

'Unaging… eternal youth?' Little Peppa seemed somewhat envious.

Moon King then asked: 'Can you also extend lifespan?'

'Theoretically speaking, living another two thousand years wouldn't be a problem.' Franca tried to control her pride.

'So envious…' Group members responded with similar words.

One after another, all expressing genuine feelings.

Who wouldn't want to be immortal and ageless?

As for the negative effects of the potion, there were no ordinary people in this group!

Franca thought for a moment, then typed out more words: 'For those in the Trier region, if you have difficulties and need help, you can recite my honorific name.

'For those not in the Trier region, I can't help—I won't hear it and can't respond.

'My honorific name is:

'The One Who Never Ages, Keeper of Diseases and Plagues, the Demoness Accompanied by Strife and Catastrophe, the Cup Bearing Joy and Pain, the Great Franca Roland.'

Seeing this honorific name, seeing the prefix 'Great,' the telegraph group members truly realized that Hidden Blade had obtained godhood, was half-god half-human, and possessed an honorific name, was a patron saint of a cathedral, could respond to prayers, and bestow power.

After a while, Little Peppa sighed.

'I feel like there's now a sad, thick barrier between us…'

'Want to call me lord and let me hear it?' Franca very skillfully responded to these words.

After discussing her own matters and explaining that Cup took its concept from the Tarot Cup cards's corresponding symbolism and the sacred object that bore joy and pain, she finally asked 007:

'007, do you have more intelligence about the Sick Church?'

Based on their team's collection and analysis of information, they believed that the Order of All Extinction and the Sick Church probably worshiped the same evil god, but the former mainly corrupted the upper and middle classes, while the latter targeted the lower classes, preaching about the authority of the Malady God and the terror of illness, developing followers through intimidation.

007 typed neither fast nor slow, with telegrams coming in line by line: 'The several Sick Church-related cases discovered earlier have been handled, and the corresponding Blessed have been eliminated, but we still haven't found their upper ranks.

'Those followers who only know the name Malady God, we now have sufficient manpower, with Mid-Sequence Beyonders watching them, to see if anyone will contact them or if any unusual events occur.

'Besides these, there's no other intelligence. The cultists in Trier have been very quiet for the past month or two, hiding very deep.'

Very well-behaved? This is very similar to the state before the Hostel incident… Is something big really going to happen within a year or two? Other great existences might not know what the Great Mother wants to do and how She would do it, but They should have foreseen that something would happen, after all, we've all made some guesses, so They've restricted the Blessed in Trier, letting them either transfer elsewhere or wait patiently to fish in troubled waters when the time comes? Franca made her own speculation based on 007's words.

At the same time, she also caught another hint from 007.

Followers who only knew the name Malady God could be saved.

Indeed, those great existences all preach using aliases, not letting followers truly understand Them. This isn't because They're merciful, but because truly understanding Them inevitably leads to corruption. Some might be fine, only experiencing personality alteration and extreme mentality, but most would have their bodies collapse, becoming monsters that constantly spread corruption, making it impossible to preach in secret, as it would be easily discovered by official forces… Franca muttered silently.

One reason why seeking boons required performing rituals was to protect the corresponding humans through the ritual, and after establishing a stable but temporary channel, the corresponding being could consciously contain the mental and will corruption in the boon, preventing the bestowed from collapsing on the spot.

Even Saints like Franca and Lumian's understanding of those great existences was limited to aliases, but compared to other Sequence 4 and Sequence 3 demigods, they also know that these existences stand at the top of multiple paths.

In reality, among the great existences, the only one who didn't preach using an alias was the Mother Tree of Desire.

Madam Magician mentioned that Mother Tree of Desire was a small segment of the corresponding existence's long string of honorific names. There were two reasons why understanding and reciting it didn't directly bring corruption: First, it was only a small segment, incomplete; second, the Mother Tree of Desire indirectly controlled the one worshiped by the Rose School of Thought in the real world and the Devil Monarch in the Abyss, so when this honorific name was mentioned, under conditions of limited understanding and while the barrier still existed, the proximity-based mystical phenomenon occurred, making it not so dangerous.

'What can we do…' Franca didn't hide the troubles of a Saint with an honorific name.

007 quickly replied: 'Trier has gathered a large amount of official force, those cultists won't surface for now. Later, we'll have enough manpower to investigate everyone in key positions.

'That's how it is in Trier, but in the marginal towns of the Trier region, in places where the Church and government forces are weak, there might still be active cultists. You can go look in those places.'

Right, with Trier's current situation, we definitely won't find anyone, but we can search in the suburbs and villages… Indeed, only official Beyonders have this kind of vision and experience, we would have wasted some time before possibly thinking of this… Franca immediately replied to 007: 'Genius!'

-x-X-x-

The confluence of the Srenzo and Ryan Rivers created a fertile valley region in the Trier district, with villages and estates dotting it like jewels, strung together into what was considered the most beautiful and expensive necklace in all of Intis.

Vival Town was one of the most peripheral towns in the Trier district, quite ordinary in both geographical location and resources, and had never received much attention.

In the basement theater of the Wild Rabbit Cafe, though there was no puppet show at the moment, twenty to thirty spectators had still gathered.

Some were clearly townspeople, while others seemed to have just arrived from the surrounding countryside, with mud spots still visible on their trouser legs.

Under the yellowish light of the gas wall lamps, the cafe owner Dalberro, standing at center stage, looked around before raising a black and white photograph in his hand.

"You've all seen Niel's death photo very clearly.

"He tried to betray us, and then the great Malady God brought down punishment."

In the photograph, a man in his thirties had his eyes wide open, frozen in fear, his face showing obvious signs of decay in several places, with white bone visible in many areas.

Dalberro was a typical Intis gentleman, with beautiful blue eyes, slightly curled brown hair, neatly trimmed beard, and a ruddy but thin face that made him popular with ladies.

But at this moment, his expression was unusually gloomy and cold as his gaze swept across the face of each Malady God follower.

Those caught in his gaze involuntarily lowered their heads, muttering, "Welcome the Malady God, drive out disease!

"Welcome the Malady God, drive out disease!"

Dalberro finally withdrew his gaze and nodded gently.

"Disease has long been scattered throughout this world. Through the great Malady God's grace, they haven't devoured most humans, only dealing with those who abandon the deity.

"I saw with my own eyes how Niel died in pain and regret, tormented to the point of breakdown by an incurable disease.

"Remember, devotion is the best medicine, devotion alone can keep you away from disease!"

After completing the daily sermon and receiving offerings from each follower, Dalberro had the congregants leave in batches to avoid drawing attention.

Then, he returned to his bedroom upstairs and placed the newly acquired money in a metal safe.

After finishing all this, Dalberro was about to head for the door when he suddenly saw his reflection in the full-length mirror undergo a strange transformation.

The person in the mirror quickly became a woman, wearing a black robe with the hood down.

The woman appeared to be only around twenty years old, with cascading black hair, each strand glossy but slightly thicker than normal, and eyes like highland lakes—clear, bright, and dreamlike, making Dalberro's soul seem to drown in them.

For a moment, Dalberro forgot to be surprised, forgot to be cautious, forgot to be afraid, and just watched as the lady in the mirror walked out and approached him, giving him the feeling that a beautiful dream had finally come true.

"Oh, goddess of my dreams, angel more beautiful than the entire Trier valley, my soul, my heart, what can I do to serve you?" Dalberro reflexively praised her, expressing the burning in his heart.

You Trieriens… even after worshiping an evil god, receiving boons, and having your personalities altered, it doesn't stop you from spreading your peacock feathers in situations like this? Lumian showed a slight smile.

"Are you a Disease Envoy?"

Franca had already obtained some information about the Malady God from 007, learning the names of several boon Sequences.

Among them, Sequence 9 was Patient, also called Rotting Patient, Sequence 8 was Secretary, Sequence 7 was Vermin, also known as Corruptor, Sequence 6 was Disease Envoy, Sequence 5 was Child of Decay, and Sequence 4 was Doomed One.

Dalberro suddenly shuddered, breaking free from the beauty's charm through his faith in the Malady God. "I don't know what you're talking about." He knew he should try to find a way to escape contact or suddenly attack and control her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Lumian curled his lips and said, "Would you like to hear how I found this place?

"First, I used Magic Mirror Divination to determine the general area, then infiltrated official channels to get data on disease-related deaths from recent years for comparison. After that, I had inconspicuous Beyonders ask around bars and such about anyone who had fallen seriously ill but suddenly recovered in the past few months. Finally, I checked the bodies in the hospital morgue.

"Perhaps blessed by the gods, I had good luck and discovered Niel, who died with his entire body rotting.

"That doctor and those two orderlies are followers of the Malady God, right? Thanks to them, similar punishments were never exposed, and afterward 'helping' with cremation requests was no problem."

Dalberro swallowed hard with difficulty and complexity. "Wh-what do you want?"

"I am a Demoness, you know what a Demoness is, right?" Lumian asked with a smile.

Dalberro suddenly understood. "I know a little, no wonder…"

No wonder she has such great charm!

Just her appearance, figure, and temperament make one want to worship!

Although the Church always emphasized that Demonesses were enemies, establishing connections wasn't impossible—any faction could cooperate briefly if their current interests aligned!

"Then you should also know that we Demonesses are classified as a cult by officials and suppressed everywhere," Lumian said with rather helpless eyes. "We can barely stay in Trier anymore and want to cooperate with you."

"Cooperate?" Dalberro was willing a thousand times over in his heart, but still maintained basic vigilance based on his faith in the Malady God.

"Yes, the Primordial One hopes to receive the great Malady God's protection in the future, She is even willing to become the Malady God's consort," Lumian said with an ambiguous smile.

Before Dalberro could respond, he slightly raised his chin and said, "Report to your superior. You certainly can't make decisions about this matter."

Dalberro immediately felt stifled, which gave rise to an impulse.

Kill the superior, become the superior, then gain the qualification to properly discuss cooperation with the beautiful Demoness before him!

How could he let her look down on him?

Final rationality made Dalberro control himself, and he said sincerely, "I-I will find an opportunity to report this."

His hidden meaning was that he couldn't do it under her watch, and he needed to find a safer environment.

Lumian nodded slightly and smiled. "Are you secretly spreading disease, trying to weaken and control me?"

Dalberro's face instantly turned red, and he stammered, "I-it was just an instinctive choice.

"You came so suddenly, I had to do this."

"I can understand," Lumian said with a smile. "But I should warn you, diseases have little effect on Demonesses."

After speaking, his figure suddenly faded and disappeared right before Dalberro's eyes.

This was just a projection that Lumian had manifested through the mirror world!

She's so nice, even warning me… Dalberro gazed longingly at the full-length mirror in the room and where the Demoness had stood, feeling that a faint fragrance still lingered in the air.

After fifteen or twenty seconds, he finally managed to break free from his current state. Looking at the bright sunlight outside, he quickly left the master bedroom and came to the study, opening a secret room.

The secret room was empty, with bare walls, peeling paint, showing signs of decay.

Dalberro lit a white candle, locked the secret room's door, and carefully checked his surroundings.

After confirming there were no abnormalities, he knelt down, assuming a posture of penitent prayer.

Then, he chanted in an ancient and desolate language that seemed to be losing its very meaning, "Envoy of Depravity and Corruption, Witness to Humanity's End, Child of Rot and Disease, Palm of the God of Decay, the great Malady God…"

He was praying and beseeching his superior—the first few lines were directed at them, but the Malady God part wasn't—his superior had deliberately borrowed their worshiped deity's alias to conceal their true name, saying they could respond based on proximity using the previous four descriptions and current environment.

As Dalberro chanted devoutly, the already dimly candlelit secret room grew darker, the candle flame flickering, about to go out.

Meanwhile, in a room opposite the Wild Rabbit Cafe.

Lumian held a plain silver mirror, reflecting the cafe and the building above it.

In reality, pedestrians were coming and going on the street, and the cafe had neither many nor few customers, but in the mirror, only the corresponding buildings and rooms existed, with no traces of humans or other living beings.

No, there was one.

In a windowless secret room somewhere in the mirrored building, Dalberro was kneeling before an increasingly yellow and dim candle flame, praying devoutly.

In reality, the secret room in the building still existed, but there was no lit candle, nor was there Dalberro.

When Dalberro finished chanting the honorific name, Lumian immediately felt information trying to drill out from the mirror, establishing some kind of mystical connection.

He neither blocked nor influenced it.

Soon, Dalberro heard a low, hoarse voice: "What is it?"

Dalberro immediately reported, "A Demoness has found me; she represents the Demoness Sect in seeking cooperation."

"Demoness…" Dalberro suddenly heard his superior curse with anger, "Idiot, damn it!"

Uh… Before Dalberro could come to his senses, his body began rapidly decaying, intense pain stabbing into his mind.

He was already certain to die.

But before this, Lumian in the real world had already sensed consciousness drilling into the mirror world along the previously established mystical connection, falling toward Dalberro.

He immediately reached out his right hand and stroked the surface of the silver mirror.

The consciousness from afar instantly left traces in the mirror world.

Beside him, Franca held another mirror, using it to perform Magic Mirror Divination by questioning her own spirituality, "Where is the source of the traces…

"Where is the source of the traces…

"…"

In the blink of an eye, Franca's mirror reflected a scene: Darkness, enclosed, seemingly the interior of a coffin, seemingly containing a corpse that hadn't completely decayed yet.

-x-X-x-

As soon as Franca tracked down the source of the traces in the mirror, Lumian immediately grabbed her shoulder and teleported to the location indicated by that scene.

In just two or three seconds, Lumian's figure materialized in a cemetery between mountains, appearing before a gravestone.

Franca had gone somewhere unknown.

Lumian cast his gaze toward the gravestone, seeing a memorial photo embedded in it and a name engraved: "Mocoxidos."

"So you've long been 'dead,' buried in a cemetery. No wonder the two Churches could never find the high-ranking members of the Sick Church, and who knows how you managed to avoid purification or cremation…" Lumian said mockingly while looking at the gravestone.

He had anticipated various methods of contact Dalberro might use, intercepting the corresponding information and establishing connections by placing him in the mirror world.

Before Lumian could finish speaking, the ground in front of the gravestone suddenly exploded with countless pieces of stone and soil.

They shot toward Lumian like bullets fired from a steam rifle, whooshing through the air.

At the same time, Lumian saw a hand.

The hand was entirely cyan in color, swollen to the point of being translucent, with yellowish-green pus flowing inside, making every capillary abnormally clear.

These capillaries and palm lines together formed complex symbols and patterns. Just looking at them made Lumian freeze in place.

At this moment, his field of vision was completely occupied by this hand. Compared to it, the shooting stones and soil seemed as tiny as dust.

Lumian began to tremble, his frost-white, cream-like skin instantly developing deep black spots.

These spots rapidly eroded inward, causing his flesh to quickly rot.

Lumian couldn't move, couldn't use any of his abilities, and even his thoughts were rapidly decaying.

This was no Saint's hand.

This was clearly the left hand of a deity!

Don't look directly at God.

Lumian trembled in fear, his mind sinking into silence, unable to make any effective response, as if destined to walk toward the end of decay.

Everything about him was decaying.

Suddenly, his right palm became scorching hot, bringing an obvious stinging sensation.

Lumian abruptly had an impulse to extend his right hand and touch that left palm, to let the black "pinhole" in his palm touch the other.

This allowed him to barely regain some self-awareness.

However, it was too late.

The shooting stones and soil hit his body, creating ripples and the sound of breaking glass.

Behind Lumian, a hidden mirror revealed itself.

This current Lumian wasn't his true form, but rather a projection manifested through the mirror world!

Of course, Lumian was also nearby. After teleporting to the cemetery, he had concealed himself and thrown out a mirror.

But the impact of directly looking at a "deity" still affected him, severely wounding him, leaving him unable to move or take any measures to dodge.

As the ground's stones and soil quickly weathered, that cyan, terrifying, strange hand pressed against Lumian's projection.

The projection instantly shattered, each illusory fragment rotting and fading.

A series of cracking sounds came from Lumian, who was hiding behind a nearby tree—the sound of all his Mirror Substitutions breaking.

Even with the repeated substitutions of Mirror Substitutions, the black spots and deep decay on Lumian's body persisted.

Just a second or two later, his gaze lost focus, and his living presence disappeared.

Thud!

He fell in a highly decayed state, his Traveler's Bag raising dust from the weathered soil.

He died on the spot.

At this moment, the figure before the gravestone fully appeared.

It was a middle-aged man wearing a black suit without a hat. His face was somewhat long, with rotting spots showing bone on both sides, and his skin was pale, as if it hadn't seen sunlight for a long time.

His left hand hung naturally, its cyan-green swollen state completely different from the rest of his body.

Before Mocoxidos could check the situation, surging, quiet, indifferent gray-white appeared from behind the gravestone, rapidly spreading over.

Wherever the gray-white passed, whether floating dust or weathered ground, everything instantly became solid and heavy, losing all other colors.

Mocoxidos didn't panic, extending his left palm with its yellowish-green capillaries and cyan patterns toward this gray-white expanse.

Though there was no physical contact yet, the gray-white slowed down, becoming increasingly sluggish, even developing cracks within itself.

At this moment, a mirror flew out from the fallen Traveler's Bag.

From that mirror, Lumian, wearing a black robe with the hood down, appeared, walking back to reality with a smile on his lips.

His highland lake-like eyes had already captured Mocoxidos's figure.

Almost simultaneously, two black flames containing destruction and madness leaped from Lumian's pupils.

"Ah!"

Mocoxidos immediately screamed in agony as bursts of black flames erupted from his rotting flesh, both igniting his soul and burning his decaying body composed of various pathogens.

He hurriedly withdrew his left hand and tore open his abdomen, as if trying to pull out the source of the black flames, but this was a Demoness curse—the true source was with Lumian.

Lumian had disappeared, perhaps teleporting to somewhere distant, or perhaps hiding in the mirror world.

As Mocoxidos's left hand collided with the Fire of Destruction, the corresponding black flames began to weaken, flickering as if about to die out.

But the black flames didn't extinguish completely, stubbornly continuing to burn Mocoxidos's flesh and soul, though their intensity began to rapidly decay.

While Mocoxidos dealt with one threat, he couldn't handle the other—the previously suppressed gray-white became surging again, crossing the barriers and spreading to his side.

His clothes quickly took on the gray-white color, turning to stone.

Mocoxidos's body suddenly emitted a putrid aura, with cyan-green yellowish pus oozing from the rotting areas where bone was visible.

This pus instantly covered Mocoxidos's body, causing him to decompose into countless pathogens and disappear on the spot.

Some pathogens were still entangled with black flames and quickly annihilated, but others that weren't originally affected managed to escape the burning of the Fire of Destruction,

At this time, the gray-white color symbolizing Petrification grew more intense, engulfing many pathogens and turning them to stone fragments that drifted to the ground.

Lumian's figure materialized at the side of the gravestone, smiling as he raised his right palm.

Throughout the entire valley cemetery, from sky to earth, strange and quiet black flames ignited silently.

In this black flame hell, every tree and blade of grass withered, collapsing as the surviving pathogens around the gravestone lost their spirituality and life one by one.

After about seven seconds, Lumian heard a shrill, unwilling, ethereal, cursing scream in the air.

From this, he knew Mocoxidos had completely died.

And due to the burning of a Demoness's black flames, the other's spirit would completely dissipate in the next few dozen seconds, unable to channel his spirit or do anything else through those means.

Lumian flipped his hand, using the mirror to pull the area around the gravestone and Mocoxidos's spirit into the mirror world, thereby affecting the return of the boon powers.

He and Franca then crossed through the silver mirror surface, arriving in the corresponding area behind the mirror.

During this process, Lumian couldn't help but reflect on the recent battle.

Mocoxidos's performance had exceeded both his and Franca's expectations.

That cyan-green swollen left hand was like one belonging to a true deity—merely seeing it and being pressed by it from afar completely crushed Lumian's resistance, making even dodging impossible.

This definitely surpassed Sequence 3, reaching the power level of an Angel, perhaps even higher!

Most Sequence 3 Saints from other paths would have died irreversibly facing that attack just now. Fortunately, Lumian was a Demoness of Unaging, peculiarly difficult to kill and skilled in revival and rebirth.

Moreover, other Demoness of Unaging couldn't manage this so easily—they would likely have their normal Mirror Person die along with them, only able to revive through a pre-placed mirror in a hidden location, largely disconnected from themselves, containing a sleeping Mirror Person. This would take dozens of minutes or even hours, making further participation in this battle impossible.

Lumian had something special in his right palm, and thanks to the stimulated residual aura of the mutated Blood Emperor, he managed to break free from that left hand's influence slightly earlier to some extent, actively using Mirror Substitution.

Even so, all his Mirror Substitutions were destroyed, and his true form had to die once, though it didn't affect his self in the mirror.

If not for Franca's assistance and containment, Mocoxidos would have escaped before he could revive and return.

That left hand was indeed formidable, with a terrifying divine descent quality…

But aside from the left hand, Mocoxidos's other aspects seemed quite ordinary, even inferior to the Sequence 4 demigod of the same path I killed before…

Did the existence of that 'left hand' suppress the manifestation of Mocoxidos's other abilities, causing his thinking and reactions to decay to some extent?

Since Amon could modify the ability manifestations of various sequences in the Marauder pathway, surely the great existence using 'Malady God' as an alias can do the same. When bestowing power, He deliberately adjusted the sequence abilities, lowering the rank of His own or a left hand projection of some Angel near the divine throne to Sequence 3, but had to reduce other abilities as a result and make the bestowed pay an additional price?

As these thoughts flashed through Lumian's mind, he glanced at Franca and took out his Chariot card and The Fool's Sacred Emblem.

For the upcoming theft and manipulation, they would definitely need to beseech Mr. Fool's help!

Lumian himself didn't have such abilities. If he could control Mocoxidos and have enough time to use large-scale black magic, using this Saint as a medium to slowly establish contact with all Malady God believers, he might barely be able to take over the Sick Church by himself, but now, less than thirty seconds remained.

-x-X-x-

As Lumian watched the cemetery turn gray-white and the faintly visible fragmented spirit, he quickly lit three candles. With one hand holding The Fool's Sacred Emblem and the other holding the Chariot card, he began chanting in Hermes, "The Fool that doesn't belong to this era,

"The mysterious ruler above the gray fog,

"The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck.

"I implore you,

"I beseech your assistance…"

Regarding the Sick Church matter, Lumian had already reported to Mr. Fool beforehand, explaining his thoughts, so there was no need for detailed descriptions now, nor for setting up an altar.

After completing the imitation ritual's supplication, Lumian and Franca's thoughts became slightly sluggish, like when they had to study after pulling an all-nighter before gaining their supernatural abilities.

Then, they seemed to see a hand wearing a black glove.

That hand covered the high sky, ethereal and illusory, not actually present.

Almost simultaneously, tiny fragments of spiritual light gathered, reassembling Mocoxidos's nearly-annihilated soul body.

Around this soul body, illusory points of light appeared one after another, while from its body extended an insubstantial cyan-green yellowish line stretching infinitely upward.

That line suddenly wavered, pulled back by an invisible force, connecting its ends to form a closed system, no longer maintaining contact with the outside world.

Only this way could Lumian and Franca's theft of the Sick Church's faith avoid being corrupted by the corresponding horrifying will.

For a great existence of this rank, bearing His name meant becoming Him, even if it was just one of His aliases.

Since no one had preached in the name of Malady God before, and this title "Malady God" had subsequently established a connection with Him over time, this was Him, just not as closely bound as His true honorific name.

After the illusory line connecting the anchor and object of faith entered a self-cycling state, those points of light surrounding Mocoxidos's remnant spirit quickly floated toward Lumian.

Scenes then appeared before Lumian's eyes, representing each bestowed who knew Mocoxidos's honorific name.

Ordinary believers weren't qualified to know and chant the name of the Malady God's envoy.

They would only pray silently according to those preachers' intimidation and sermons, adding prefixes to "Malady God" and His messengers based on their own understanding.

This was also an anchor, but wouldn't have such points of light.

Lumian quickly scanned through them all, discovering that among these bestowed, only one possessed godhood, and clearly didn't have "God's Left Hand" like Mocoxidos.

Only one Sequence 4? The rest are all mid to low Sequences… Is this all the power the Sick Church has in the Trier region? Must pay extra attention to the Sequence 4 demigod, he might see through my and Franca's disguise, realize it's blasphemers deceiving for faith… He must possess part of the Malady God's honorific name, maybe even the complete name… Just as Lumian had this thought, he saw the Doomed One in the light point take out a pair of black gloves from somewhere, put them on, and gently nod across the void.

Is he controlled by Mr. Fool? Parasitized? Lumian's confidence doubled. He put on the Lie earring, altered his throat structure, and began issuing commands to each bestowed represented by the light points in Mocoxidos's voice: "The situation has changed. From now on, the great Malady God will gradually descend into reality in twin form. They are the 'God of Plague' and the 'God of Disease;' They are both male and female…"

This would point to Lumian and Franca, matching their essence.

As for Jeanna, there was no reasonable way to add her now. Once Lumian and Franca truly controlled the Sick Church in the Trier Region, changing the doctrine and adding new saints would be very easy, since Jeanna was still far from Sequence 3.

Lumian continued speaking rapidly, "Spread the new doctrine to believers quickly, urge them to master the honorific names of both deities and pray to Them.

"One is:

"The Lady more ancient than the times, Servant of Calamity, Child of Plague and Disease, Destroyer who walks in Shadows, Guide of all lost lambs in Trier, the great God of Plague."

Here Lumian borrowed his sister Aurore's uniqueness, then pieced together his own specialties—whether "Serving Calamity," "Child of Plague and Disease," or "Destroyer," all came from the top powers of the Hunter and Demoness pathways that had given him the boon and caused his palm to mutate somewhat. This matched the explanation of the Malady God's division and wouldn't make the bestowed suspicious.

This way, even without using his true name but referring to himself with the false God of Plague, he could be precisely indicated, because even without the last line, the previous five lines in standard format could lock onto him.

This was also adding anchors for Aurore.

"The other is:

"The Ancient One who transcends time, One who remains forever young, Envoy of Disease and Plague, Lady who spreads pain and despair, Protector of humanity's adventurous spirit, the great God of Disease."

This would point to Franca.

To ensure these descriptions combined with precise accuracy, Franca also imitated Mr. Fool, incorporating her uniqueness as a transmigrator into the description.

Currently in the Northern and Southern Continents, only she and half of Aurore were both transmigrators and Demonesses of Unaging.

Of course, Franca didn't dare bet that no other high-ranking beings in this world matched just the two descriptions of "Ancient One who transcends time" and "remains forever young." In the depths of space and various alternate dimensions, there might truly be beings who had lived from before the Primordial One's awakening until now and didn't age, since apparently only Earth's living creatures had encountered the apocalypse back then.

But such beings surely could no longer be called "human."

After initially anchoring herself with the first two descriptions, Franca took several titles she had considered before but weren't suitable for inclusion in the Church of The Fool's patron saint name, selected those that fit the Sick Church's doctrine, and added "Protector of humanity's adventurous spirit"—a title that had earned her mockery but actually wasn't bad upon careful consideration.

This could effectively distinguish her from Aurora while remaining neutral, potentially serving as an entry point for her and Lumian to gradually transform the Sick Church's doctrine later.

And with these five honorific names, "the great God of Disease" became optional.

However, it wasn't completely useless. As time passed, the title "God of Disease" would gradually become associated with Franca. If she could become an Angel in the future, "God of Disease" would truly become equivalent to her.

After explaining the most important matters, Lumian saw those illusory points of light return to their original size, still surrounding him.

They had been grafted onto him.

Of course, this wasn't permanent, and Lumian hadn't intended it to be.

If he hadn't needed these bestowed to preach and change the believers' understanding, he would have eliminated them all on the spot, leaving no survivors.

These were severely corrupted people who had received boon from the corresponding existence. To Lumian, who had usurped the position of Malady God, they were genuine time bombs with basically no possibility of salvation.

"I'll need to watch them constantly. Once most of the Malady God believers in the Trier region establish connections with me and Franca, I'll immediately eliminate these bestowed… The Grafting of faith anchors can last at least a month, that's enough…" Lumian slowly exhaled, sincerely thanking Mr. Fool for his help.

The power that had made his and Franca's heads feel insufficient then receded.

Next, Lumian looked at Mocoxidos's remaining spirit floating in mid-air, slightly surprised to find it hadn't completely dissipated.

According to Lumian's previous estimation, after entering the mirror world, Mocoxidos would completely pass away in just over thirty seconds, unable even to channel spirits, but now it seemed he could still hold on for about twenty seconds.

And what they had just done couldn't have taken only ten seconds—just speaking the honorific names took longer than that!

Did Mr. Fool's gaze make time slow down?

No, not slow down, my actions and words didn't become slower…

Did time slow down only for Mocoxidos's Spirit Body? Or did Mr. Fool grant Mocoxidos's Spirit Body more time?

An application of high-ranking Marauder pathway abilities?

As these thoughts raced through Lumian's mind, he quickly employed a Magic Mirror Spirit Channeling Spell.

There should still be time to ask one question!

Lumian wasn't worried this would lead to him being noticed by the entity worshiped by the Sick Church, because Mocoxidos's connection with that being had been cut off, its ends joined to form a cycle.

Regarding Mocoxidos and Sick Church matters, Lumian actually had quite a few questions: From those prayer light points just now, the Sick Church had only ten to twenty bestowed in the Trier region, clearly not a large scale.

But among fewer than twenty bestowed, there was actually the Sequence 3 Mocoxidos and a Sequence 4 Doomed One.

Wasn't this ratio too extreme?

Back then, 007 as a Church deacon for a district in Trier was only Sequence 5, with two teams of Beyonders under him—nearly fifteen people.

Even though bestowed couldn't be directly compared to those who advanced through potions, the Sick Church's situation was puzzling.

Normally, such a team composition with a Sequence 4 demigod would already be the limit, and that only because the Trier region was very important.

So, Lumian wanted to ask what special contribution Mocoxidos had made to receive the Sequence 3 boon, which had also led to some of his subordinates receiving advancement.

Perhaps very important secrets were hidden here.

Soon, Lumian completed the Magic Mirror Spirit Channeling Spell taught by Franca.

In the makeup mirror he took out appeared Mocoxidos's increasingly fading spirit.

Lumian asked quickly, "What incident led to you receiving a boon to that left hand?"

Obvious fanaticism appeared on Mocoxidos's increasingly pale and transparent face.

In a deep, hoarse voice, he mused, "After the Vortex incident…"

-x-X-x-

"After the Vortex incident…" Mocoxidos continued, "God specifically bestowed upon me, telling me to stay in Trier, not to do anything else, not to expose myself."

"It wasn't because you made some special contribution?" Lumian quickly followed up.

When he heard the word "Vortex," he thought he'd found a key point, but unexpectedly, Mocoxidos's answer was completely different from what he had imagined.

This was even more suspicious!

"Because I am devout," Mocoxidos said fanatically. "Compared to the Order of All Extinction, we are the overlooked faction, doing less. God specifically bestowing upon me could only be because of my devotion…"

Before he could finish speaking, his remnant soul had faded too much to sustain the spirit channeling.

Lumian and Franca could only watch helplessly as he completely dissipated.

Franca took out the Inevitable Gun and placed it where the cyan-green yellowish light points were gathering and floating upward.

Since this was an ordinary mirror world, the return of the boon was only partially affected. While it settled down again, most of it still broke free and disappeared.

While waiting for the Inevitable Gun's power to be replenished and show more mutations, Franca said to Lumian, "Getting a Sequence 3-equivalent boon without needing to make any contribution?

"I thought becoming a Demoness of Unaging was already easy enough, but I didn't expect there could be something even easier."

Smiling, Lumian replied, "Didn't you notice this when you were in the Savoie Mob? If they suddenly give you a gun, it's definitely to make you do something dangerous, to use you as cannon fodder."

"Right, there's no such thing as a free lunch—the more free it seems, the more expensive it actually is." Franca understood Lumian's meaning. "The entity worshiped by the Sick Church gave Mocoxidos and others more boons, instructing them to lie low in the Trier region, because in the near future they'll be made to do something quite crucial, something they must do even if it leads to all their deaths?"

Lumian nodded. "It's unfortunate that the Sick Church is a fringe sect. If we had captured a Sequence 3 Saint from the Order of All Extinction, we might already know what the issue is."

This could be seen from the names of the first few boon sequences of the Patient pathway—the followers of that great existence naturally tended toward infiltrating Trier's upper and middle classes, gradually corrupting the entire system.

Disease and plague were just two among that being's many authorities.

"Indeed." Franca sighed. "Whatever the case, removing one nail is still one nail removed. We don't need to worry about the Sick Church for now."

At this point, her Inevitable Gun showed some changes, expanding slightly overall and taking on a faint cyan-green tinge.

Franca retrieved the revolver with spider silk and learned the final "results" by querying her own spirituality.

The shots with either Certain Death or Sure Hit effects were restored to 13 times, and an additional new effect was added that could stun enemies, cause their thoughts to decay, and significantly affect their thinking and actions.

This didn't require actually hitting the target to take effect—as long as the target was locked onto and the shot was fired, they would experience similar conditions.

And if a bullet with this effect actually hit, unless the target had previously used a body double ability, their original body would inevitably decay and move toward death, though this wouldn't affect the mirror that the Demoness of Unaging had hidden away earlier with most mystical connections severed.

"It can't compare to the original left hand—it won't make targets truly feel like they're facing divine descent, completely unable to move or even think. Let's just say it can be useful in split-second moments, leaving enemies no time to react…" Franca casually explained.

She quickly named this effect "God's Gaze," which could only be triggered once.

Franca then sighed.

"It's a pity we were too rushed—if we had brought Anthony's Winter is Coming, his weapon could have been replenished too."

Franca and Lumian had originally thought Dalberro's superior would at most be a Sequence 4 Doomed One. Although they had made contingency plans for encountering a Sequence 3 Saint, that wasn't their main focus, so the execution was inevitably somewhat hasty. Many preparations they should have made weren't done, and they could only rely on the Demoness of Unaging's bizarre unkillable trait to forcefully confront and block the target.

"There will be other chances." Lumian smiled slightly.

He was referring to the Sequence 4 demigod currently under Mr. Fool's control.

Of course, this was assuming Mr. Fool didn't plan to use that puppet for something else.

Franca made an affirmative sound, then said, "The gathering time is set for 10 pm Saturday. You got the message, right?"

"I did." Lumian nodded.

…

Saturday night at 10pm, in the ancient and dilapidated palace of the Nation of the Evernight, Lumian's figure quickly materialized.

He was once again dressed as a warlock, wearing a silver-white half mask.

After waiting another five minutes, Hidden Blade Franca, still wearing her assassin outfit, walked to the huge stone chair and cleared her throat.

"Everyone, I have announcements to make."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it transmitted through the mirror items carried by many Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society members, allowing everyone to hear clearly.

"That's a nice trick, Hidden Blade," someone immediately praised.

Hidden Blade's past actions and previously established image meant people didn't respect and revere her like they did Hela and Gandalf, instead treating her more like a friend they could tease.

Franca's lips curled into a smile. "You're right. The first thing I want to announce is:

"Ladies and gentlemen, I've become a demigod!"

As the many Research Society members stared in shock, unable to believe it and about to express their emotions with profanity, the flaxen-colored long hair extending from under Franca's hood floated up, becoming slightly darker and thicker.

This made the vast majority of Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society members inexplicably alarmed, instinctively lowering their heads as if threads of electricity were coursing through their bodies.

This wasn't displaying an incomplete Mythical Creature form—Franca wouldn't dare do that. She was merely showing a hint of her godhood's aura to make her words more convincing.

The entire ancient palace suddenly fell silent.

After a moment, when everyone came to their senses, they instinctively wanted to express various opinions and use different tone words, but instantly remembered Hidden Blade's previous display and closed their mouths again.

That was the aura of godhood.

Hidden Blade was now half-god, half-human.

Franca's deliberate showing off was mainly to strengthen the persuasiveness of her subsequent words. Seeing their reaction, she smoothly continued, "We're still brothers and sisters, don't be so formal.

"After all these years, don't you know what kind of person I am?

"If you don't curse a bit, don't marvel at how Hidden Blade suddenly became so powerful, don't express your inner shock and admiration, wouldn't my showing off be for nothing?"

Right, right, right, Hidden Blade's air is back! The Research Society members immediately relaxed considerably and, like those people in the telegram group, began expressing their shock and admiration.

Franca immediately harvested joy from this.

She had to admit that a small part of her deliberate showing off was for the showing off itself.

When everyone's discussion had somewhat subsided, Franca said in a low voice, "The second thing I want to announce is that I've received intelligence that those evil cults across the Northern and Southern Continents and the Five Seas will do something big in the next year or two, which might bring apocalyptic scenes.

"If you have chances to advance your Sequence, try your best to do so. If not, that's fine too—just enjoy life and when the time comes, hide in places like the cathedrals in major cities.

"As long as the true gods can hold on, things won't be too hopeless. If They can't hold on, everyone should first preserve their useful selves and decide what to do based on the specific situation. Personally, I think catastrophe will inevitably come, but it's possible to survive them."

The Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society members looked at each other, both bewildered and confused.

If Hidden Blade hadn't become a demigod Demoness, they would have thought she was joking, playing a prank.

How could the apocalypse come so suddenly?

Were there no omens or prophecies?

Everyone turned their gazes toward Hela and Gandalf—compared to the newly-made demigod Hidden Blade, these two had more authority and were more trustworthy.

Hela walked to Franca's side and looked around. "Members in Trier, try to leave within half a year. This city will be one of the key nodes where problems erupt.

"Even if you really like life in Trier, you can return after things are over."

This indirectly endorsed Franca's previous words.

The Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society members immediately erupted, asking all at once, "What exactly is going to happen?"

"Which places will be safer?"

"Will remote villages be affected?"

"…"

Franca pressed down with one hand, gesturing for everyone to calm down.

"The specifics aren't clear.

"Just treat it as a prophecy made by a prophet—there might not be only one interpretation."

As everyone discussed, she and Hela walked down the steps.

Gandalf came to where they had just been standing, showing no surprise or shock about the apocalyptic matter.

This president of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society looked at everyone and said, "Let me add one more point:

"Try to hide in big cities, but not the capitals of various countries."

The successive confirmations made the gathering's atmosphere suddenly heavy, though not to the point of freezing or despair.

The Academy group's gathering spot had the same atmosphere.

Professor, wearing a butterfly bow tie, looked at Lumian and asked, "Muggle, you're quite familiar with Hidden Blade. Have you heard more details?"

"No," Lumian added, "I only know that the Eternal Blazing Sun Church has placed nearly half its forces in Trier."

After Periodic Table, Isotope, Associate Professor and others discussed for a while, Lumian thoughtfully said, "I have something to remind you about. After becoming a Warlock, I was infused with quite a bit of knowledge by the Hidden Sage, some of which was about summoning special creatures from the spirit world.

"This had significant problems. It took me a long time to resolve them, so I have some experience.

"Have you been infused with knowledge in this area? Something about weak balls of telepathic connections."

-x-X-x-

Lumian deliberately spoke very clearly to ensure no one would overlook it.

Moreover, he pointed out that this matter was dangerous, and he had experience in how to resolve it.

This way, if any of the present Warlocks had been infused with mystical knowledge about summoning White Papers and hadn't yet undergone complete personality alteration, they would surely be alarmed, become fearful, and then either openly or secretly seek him out to discuss whether the problem truly existed and what solutions there might be.

Professor, who represented the Academy group's Warlocks, thought for a moment and shook his head. "I've never been infused with knowledge in this area."

After the other Warlocks gave similar answers, a man who had spoken little in the previous discussion suddenly said, "The weak ball that can telepathically connect with me, right?

"I received related knowledge."

Lumian's heart leaped with joy as he looked at this Academy group member who was also dressed as a warlock, remembering his codename: Condensed Matter.

"Yes," Lumian nodded, glancing around before asking Condensed Matter, "May I ask you some questions in private? If you're unsure about me, we can have Madame Hela present."

Worried that he might already have hidden problems due to that mystical knowledge, Condensed Matter didn't refuse Lumian's invitation. "Okay."

Soon, in a corner of the ancient palace, with Hela witnessing, Lumian questioned Condensed Matter, "Have you used those descriptions to summon the corresponding spirit world creature?"

"I have," Condensed Matter couldn't help asking, "Is there something wrong with that?"

Lumian's brows furrowed slightly beneath his silver-white half mask, and instead of answering, he asked, "Can you sense anything special about me?"

He wanted to see if the other person could detect Omebella's bloodline.

"Does being particularly charming count?" Condensed Matter answered honestly.

"It does," Lumian smiled behind his silver-white half mask, "When did you first summon that spirit world creature?"

"Around June or July two years ago," Condensed Matter recalled.

June or July two years ago… By then, Madame Pualis and the padre already had the child… Lumian thought for a moment and asked,

"After being infused with this knowledge by the Hidden Sage, you didn't try it immediately?"

Condensed Matter shook his head. "When I received the related knowledge, I was traveling—traveling with family; so I couldn't try it. Later, I was infused with more knowledge and also traded for a grimoire, so I forgot about it until remembering much later."

"I see…" Lumian's tone suddenly carried a hint of sighing.

This wasn't for Condensed Matter, but for Aurore.

He then said, "Can you describe what the contracted creature you summoned looks like?"

Condensed Matter described his contracted creature's appearance in detail, which was almost identical to the White Paper Lumian had summoned.

"When you first summoned it, did it have slightly milky and pale yellow clear liquid inside its body? It might have disappeared later," Lumian asked as if confirming something.

Condensed Matter thought carefully before saying, "No."

"No…" Lumian sighed as if he had expected this.

He then said to Condensed Matter, "The one you summoned probably doesn't have any problems."

"That's good, that's good!" Condensed Matter turned his head with undisguised joy, glancing at Hela as if hoping this lady would endorse this assessment.

At this point, Lumian added, "But I can't be completely certain yet. There are still a few questions I need you to answer. This might involve your privacy, but you don't need to be too detailed—I just need to grasp the general situation."

After hesitating for a few seconds, influenced by multiple factors including his desire for a definitive answer, the other party's extraordinary charm, and Madame Hela's presence as witness, Condensed Matter finally nodded and said, "Ask away."

Lumian sincerely said, "Thank you."

He then posed his question. "Which deity do you worship? If it's not one of the orthodox gods, you don't need to answer."

Finding the question simpler and less awkward than imagined, Condensed Matter quickly answered, "Eternal Blazing Sun."

Eternal Blazing Sun… Is this the common point? On the surface, they're all casual believers of the Eternal Blazing Sun… But surely among the Warlocks in Trier like Professor and the others, there must be some who praise the sun daily to conceal their identity… Are they deliberately concealing it, not mentioning it? Also, Condensed Matter is male, Aurore is female, so gender clearly isn't why the Hidden Sage targeted her… Lumian was initially pleased but quickly sank into deep thought.

"How old were you when you transmigrated, and how old was the body after transmigration?" Lumian further asked.

"My last memory was lamenting that I was almost thirty and had achieved nothing," Condensed Matter for a moment before saying. "When I occupied this body, he was just twenty-five."

Different from Aurore's body state before and after transmigration… Lumian quickly considered which aspects he should look for common points.

While thinking, he casually asked, "Are the current body's parents still alive?"

"They passed away long ago," Condensed State answered concisely.

"Do you have children?" Lumian continued digging in this direction.

"Yes," Condensed Matter clearly didn't want to say more.

There really aren't any common points with Aurore… At this moment, Lumian recalled something Condensed Matter had said earlier and thought for two seconds before asking, "You said when you were infused with the corresponding knowledge, you were traveling with family—which family members?"

Condensed Matter still only spoke generally, "My wife, and my elder sister's family."

"Elder sister…" Lumian's pupils suddenly dilated, as if he'd been struck by lightning.

Condensed Matter nodded slightly. "Yes, the sister who raised this body of mine."

Lumian stared at Condensed Matter, falling completely silent.

He felt he had found that key point.

The key point beyond the three words "Warlock," "transmigrator," and "gray fog aura": Sister and brother!

Elder sister and younger brother!

Lumian began silently talking to himself.

He kept repeating two names.

Omebella, Zedus…

Omebella, Zedus…

Suddenly, Lumian remembered something else from the past.

When Madam Magician mentioned the empty baby cradle, she used the word "lost."

This meant that in the eyes of this Angel who had a relatively deep understanding of the Cordu Village incident, according to her spiritual intuition, the cradle was empty because the child was "lost," which wasn't exactly equivalent to death.

And the subsequent intelligence from Madame Pualis and everyone's deductions indicated that baby Omebella had died early on, killed by her father, her direct relative the padre.

At the time, neither Lumian nor Madam Magician thought there was anything wrong with this—death was indeed a form of loss.

But now, Lumian had a new conjecture:

Could it be that Madame Pualis didn't give birth to one child for the padre, but to twins, a sister and brother?

Then, one was killed, one mysteriously disappeared, achieving some purpose through the ritual of the Inevitability believers?

The killed baby Omebella has now returned to Madame Pualis's embrace but can't come to reality yet—what about the mysteriously lost child?

Thinking of this, Lumian suddenly smiled.

He felt this might have something to do with himself.

He began to suspect that his selection of the Abscessed Hand profile from such a large collection of spirit world creature materials, making it the first creature for a Contractee to sign with, wasn't coincidental but stemmed from some mystical connection.

Similarly, when he first arrived in Trier, his choice of the market district and the Auberge du Coq Doré wasn't just because that's what the deity worshiped by the Aurora Order arranged, but perhaps also because of the Poison Spur Mob supported by the Nightstalkers there.

If this was true, then later meeting Father Montserrat and obtaining Omebella's remaining umbilical cord was destined, an inevitable fate!

This also clarified why Madame Pualis had to find him specifically in the dream city!

Ignoring Condensed Matter's surprised and confused gaze, Lumian half-closed his eyes and silently said to himself, Hand Bro, I'll bring Omebella's remains to see you as soon as possible!

…

Trier, fourth level of the catacombs.

Lumian held a lit white candle, accompanied by Jenna who also had yellowish light spreading from her hands, as they walked step by step toward the ancient tomb containing the Samaritan Women's Spring.

Before going to Morora to help Jenna advance to Demoness of Despair, he wanted Jenna to meet with Krismona's shadow to see what changes might occur or what hints they might receive.

"Can't Franca come here anymore?" Jenna asked curiously.

Lumian nodded. "After obtaining godhood, one should visit Trier's underground—especially places like this—as little as possible. Unless absolutely necessary, it's best not to come."

"Aren't you a demigod too?" Jenna asked, both amused and concerned.

Lumian chuckled. "It's different.

"For me, entering the catacombs feels as comfortable as returning home.

"If I weren't worried about making others nervous, I wouldn't even need to light a candle."

He raised his right hand, exposing his palm with its pale skin, dark red marks, and black pinhole to the cold air and candlelit dimness.

Then he blew out the candle in his hand, suddenly enveloped by darkness with only Jenna's candlelight revealing his silhouette.

"Don't take risks!" Jenna was startled.

Lumian obligingly relit the candle with a smile.

"I was right, wasn't I?"

"You scared me to death!" Jenna glared at Lumian.

As they talked, they finally reached the ancient tomb chamber.

Lumian looked at the tomb door for two seconds and sighed.

"Too bad we didn't encounter Krismona's shadow on the way.

"I feel she's more friendly outside the Samaritan Women's Spring, while inside she tends to be more…"

Lumian paused, then said in a low voice, "Evil."

-x-X-x-

In front of the grayish-white fog surrounding the area of the Samaritan Women's Spring.

Lumian and Jenna both lowered their heads, pressed their hands to their chests, and recited Mr. Fool's honorific name.

When they raised their heads, they had already arrived on the other side of the gray fog.

The two followed the slope downward, and soon heard faint, ethereal splashing sounds.

A few steps later, they saw the figure of a beautiful and holy woman in white robes.

The child of the Primordial Demoness—Krismona.

Jenna examined the target's pale, transparent face for a few seconds and stepped forward on her own, to see if her special nature would elicit any additional reaction.

Suddenly, a gleam of light appeared in Krismona's empty, blank eyes.

It was sharp, cold, and extraordinarily vicious!

Almost simultaneously, around Lumian and Jenna, from the sloped ground, the gray mist above, and the air in all directions, emerged one thick, slippery black poisonous snake after another, each with distinct black and white eyeballs rolling on their heads.

In less time than it takes to blink, this place had become a forest of black snakes, obscuring the earth and piercing the sky.

With these changes, the temperature dropped dramatically, and the area around the Samaritan Women's Spring instantly became a world ruled by ice and snow.

Icicles were interspersed among the dense black snakes, covering them with a layer of crystalline white.

Jenna had already frozen stiff, with ice particles and icicles forming on her flaxen hair, face, and all over her clothes.

Around Lumian, intense white flames with a blue tinge burned, but these flames were also freezing rapidly, with crystalline ice layers spreading quickly.

For Lumian, blocking for this brief moment was enough. He raised his right palm, activating the residual aura of the Blood Emperor in his palm.

The splashing sound instantly intensified, and Jenna, who was already nearly frozen and petrified, immediately lost consciousness.

Lumian felt the familiar aura of madness and the deathly cold emanating from the Underworld Daoist.

The water of the Samaritan Women's Spring receded into its deep source, pulling Krismona's shadow along with it, making it bob up and down.

Both the Black Snake Forest that filled this space and the frost world that was cold enough to be almost unbearable even for a Sequence 3 Saint dissipated.

Everything returned to normal.

Jenna gradually regained her thoughts, and as the spring water began flowing again, she heard Krismona's fearful, hateful voice filled with intense cursing: "Do not advance to Demoness of Unaging!

"Do not advance to Demoness of Unaging!"

The high-tier Demoness's figure lingering near the spring water repeated these words, Her voice shrill and terrifying.

Seeing that the world of ice and snow was about to descend again, and thick hair like black poisonous snakes was about to pierce from the ground toward the sky, Lumian pulled Jenna back two steps.

Krismona's figure no longer showed any abnormality, Her eyes once again becoming empty and blank.

"How do you feel?" Lumian had also heard what Krismona was shouting, but he was more interested in knowing if the pure female Demoness had any special sensations.

Jenna paused for two seconds, then recalled, "It's different from what I sensed during an advancement. The current Lady Krismona is more like the Primordial Demoness…

"This isn't about similarities in temperament or feeling, but rather that the malice toward pure female demonesses is almost identical—the kind of malice that would personally strangle the corresponding possibility. Well, there are still subtle differences—Lady Krismona's malice stems more from fear.

"She seems terrified of seeing a Sequence 3 pure female demoness…"

"Is the Krismona here a remnant of obsession and malice, so it manifests more directly and obviously?" Lumian nodded with understanding. "Looking at it this way, there shouldn't be much problem with pure female demonesses advancing to Sequence 4. The hidden danger and risk lie in reconciling with the Mirror Person when becoming Sequence 3."

Lumian gazed at Krismona's figure beside the Samaritan Women's Spring and said thoughtfully,

"What was Her relationship with Her Mirror Person—enslavement, infatuation, or reconciliation?"

"You suspect something went wrong with Lady Krismona before She perished?" Jenna asked, turning her head.

After pondering for two seconds, Lumian said, "The one lingering around the Samaritan Women's Spring might be fine, but who knows what the one near the Krismona Night Pillar in Fourth Epoch Trier is."

Jenna nodded solemnly.

"Let's go, we can't communicate normally anymore." Lumian turned around.

He then smiled and said, "This isn't necessarily a bad thing. Normal communication might involve instigation and deception, while curse-like shouts based on obsession are more authentic. Through this, we can confirm there are no hidden dangers in advancing to Demoness of Despair."

As he spoke, Lumian turned back to look at Krismona's body.

Through the thin gray fog, he saw the holy and beautiful high-tier Demoness continuing to wander beside the spring eye flowing with pale water, day after day, year after year, Her face pale and transparent, Her gaze empty and blank.

Suddenly, Krismona looked toward them.

This time, inexplicable fear appeared in Her blank eyes.

The gleam of fear vanished instantly, completely swallowed by endless emptiness.

"What did She see?" Lumian muttered as he walked back.

But with just himself there, Krismona showed no reaction. When Jenna joined, the previous events merely repeated, with no additional information gained.

At this point, Lumian and Jenna finally abandoned their desire to continue probing and left the Samaritan Women's Spring.

…

The next morning, in the New City of Silver, at the bottom of the spire, at the end of the mottled stairs, in a room filled with morning light, black hair strands, various plants, and different mushrooms.

Under Mr. Sun's watch, Lumian walked to the brownish soil pile and placed both hands on the withered, huge grayish-brown tree trunk.

At this moment, Lumian felt as if the human-like patterns on the tree trunk were staring at him intently.

Two huge crimson flowers served as the eyes.

"Best not to exceed two minutes, or random effects will occur," the tall Mr. Sun reminded Lumian.

Lumian made a sound of acknowledgment, then exerted force with both hands to forcibly pull up Omebella's remains, known as the Gift of the Land.

The entire New City of Silver suddenly shook, as if experiencing a mild earthquake.

The morning light in the room grew brighter, and the surrounding black hair strands, plants, and mushrooms began to grow and multiply at a visible rate.

Lumian quickly placed the Gift of the Land into a specially allocated space within the Traveler's Bag, then teleported to somewhere in the mirror world.

Madam Magician—wearing the previous silver-starred black robe—along with Jenna and Franca, were already waiting for him in the dark, pitch-black mirror realm.

According to the agreement with the Church of Knowledge, Lumian and Jenna couldn't go to the City of Exiles through normal means, but the Church would create a gap in Morora's seal somehow, allowing them to enter using the power of the mirror world and high-tier beings of the Door pathway.

"I borrowed it," Lumian said extremely concisely about the result.

Madam Magician nodded, making all the silver stars on her wizard robe light up.

A dreamlike starry sky appeared, and endless stars quickly formed a passage.

Surrounded by brilliant light, Lumian and Jenna instantly arrived in the City of Exiles Morora, at the square outside the cathedral.

Using the authority of 0-01, Lumian gathered enough serious criminals to meet the ritual requirements—a sea of people. These exiles were already nearby, as if waiting for the reaper to arrive.

Without wasting time, Lumian quickly said to Jenna, "Finally, let me tell you a fact."

Jenna had already begun quietly spreading the plague using the Demoness of Despair's Beyonder characteristic and the Sequence 5 level charm given by Franca. "What?"

Lumian said seriously, "Even if you really become a Sequence 4 demigod, you won't be able to do much when the apocalypse comes. Whether you can protect your loved ones and friends is another matter entirely."

Jenna opened her mouth but couldn't refute.

She actually understood this clearly but was unwilling to accept it.

"Are you in despair?" Lumian smiled. "If you're in despair, then go ahead and advance. Advance with this despair, with the intense desire to change this reality."

Jenna understood Lumian's intention, sighed softly, and said with a laugh, "Dammit, good thing I'm relatively strong, otherwise I'd definitely lose control during the ritual."

"I wouldn't say this to someone who isn't strong," Lumian didn't delay any further and, relying on the mystical connection between himself and 0-01, directly entered the underground mausoleum.

Jenna turned around and looked at the criminals bound by commands in the square.

Her gaze was like water, both deep and calm, as if looking at the villains from her past life and their various endings, both good and bad.

After a while, Jenna walked through the crowd, heading outside the square.

This was to ensure that the serious criminals at the edges also received fair treatment, experiencing the same plague.

When thousands of exiles showed symptoms, growing weaker amidst violent coughing, Jenna took out the ingredients and began preparing the potion.

As one wave after another of serious criminals fell to the ground, she drank the liquid in one gulp.

As soon as she began advancing, Madam Magician used the pre-given mental imprint to transfer her out through the beautiful dreamlike starry sky to an area in the mirror world shrouded in thin gray fog.

As long as the ritual was achieved and the time limit hadn't passed, advancement could occur anywhere—it didn't have to be in Morora!

Of course, this assumed the seal's gap still existed and Jenna's connection to the ritual hadn't been severed.

This thin gray fog was obtained by Franca through prayer to Mr. Fool, aimed at deceiving the Primordial Demoness and preventing Her observation.

During Jenna's advancement, Lumian also arrived at the mountain peak of corpses where 0-01 was planted, next to Hand Bro who patrolled back and forth like the steel puppets and undead soldiers, nearly perfect, like a work of art.

With time running short, Lumian directly pulled out the Gift of the Land from the Traveler's Bag and planted this withered, huge trunk in the wilderness.

The Abscessed Hand, who had been walking, suddenly stopped, His beautiful crystalline crimson eyes looking over.

His face, which was almost at the limit of beauty, instantly twisted, with emotions like pain, hatred, malice, pleasure, and mockery overflowing.

He opened his mouth and shouted fiercely in the Jotun, "Omebella!"

"I curse you!

"I curse you to die by the hand of your direct descendant!"