Chapter 103 - 103 The Padre’s Plan

103 The Padre’s Plan

A dense white fog hung heavy in the sky, swallowing most of the light and casting the dream ruins into a perpetual twilight.

Lumian stood, stretching his limbs and surveying the blood-streaked mountain peak as he a.s.sessed his condition.

In comparison to Hunter, the Provoker’s strength, reflexes, speed, and agility had improved, albeit modestly.

Lumian identified three primary changes:

First, his body had grown more robust and his recuperative abilities had seemingly improved.

Second, his spirituality had increased to a certain extent. He could now maintain his possession state for four minutes, up from just three.

Lastly, he had gained a Beyonder power called Provocation.

This ability induced a permanent state change while also requiring active activation to achieve its desired effect.

Lumian’s observation skills had experienced a qualitative transformation, far surpa.s.sing those of an ordinary person. He could now effectively discern which words, actions, and situations would most easily trigger his target’s sensitivities and provoke agitation.

When Provocation was employed, it merged insults and humiliation, causing the target to lose their composure.

The more tailored the taunts and humiliation, the more effective the Provocation. However, even a single word like “dogs.h.i.t” could still incite anger to some degree.

Against an uncommunicative opponent, Provocation allowed Lumian to exude a repugnant aura.

This ability was well-suited to the traps and ambushes Hunters excelled in, but it held little meaning for Lumian in his present state.

He no longer had time for hunting. His sole focus was exploring the “wall” surrounding the blood-stained “peak” and uncovering the secret of the dream ruins.

In contrast, the enhancements to his spirituality and physical resilience pleased him. At the very least, he could now delve further into the dark area that once lulled him to sleep.

With the potion’s boost, Lumian ma.s.saged his temples.

This time, activating his Spirit Vision was seamless.

He finally had the capacity to easily invoke his Spirit Vision.

Without hesitation, Lumian changed his clothes and gathered his gear: Fallen Mercury, the iron-black axe, a cloth bag of cheese and biscuits. He slung his shotgun over his back and exited the two-story semi-subterranean building. Amidst the muted gray fog, he traversed the wilderness and entered the ruins.

He followed a familiar path, avoiding areas where monsters might lurk, and proceeded cautiously.

Upon reaching the area where he had encountered the three-faced monster, Lumian danced, partially triggering the black thorn symbol.

With the “amulet,” he navigated increasingly treacherous terrain and repelled several horrifying creatures.

At last, he arrived at the th.o.r.n.y “wall” formed by an array of houses.

After a moment’s consideration, Lumian chose a direction.

He resolved to enter the area that seemed to be shrouded in night, a place that instantly plunged him into a drowsy haze.

His intuition suggested that something significant lay beyond the towering wall of twisted trees. However, the area resembling the onset of night held a greater likelihood of harboring the secret of the dream ruins.

After all, “night,” “slumber,” and “dream” were often related terms.

In due course, Lumian, having performed another ritual dance, found himself in a place noticeably dimmer than its surroundings.

He exhaled slowly and stepped forward with determination.

Almost immediately, Lumian felt as though he had transitioned from a foggy day to a cloudy evening. Shadows enveloped the objects around him.

Clutching Fallen Mercury, he yawned and pressed on.

I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep! Lumian urged himself forward.

As he proceeded, Lumian remained vigilant, scrutinizing the buildings that formed the city wall. Yet, the secrets of the dream ruins eluded him.

Gold coins and other trinkets held no interest for him.

Delving deeper, he trudged dozens of meters, his willpower alone keeping his eyes open against the overwhelming drowsiness that engulfed his mind.

After a moment’s contemplation, he opted for retreat. He would investigate the area behind the wooden wall and enter this sleep-inducing zone from another angle.

Perhaps that would grant him access to previously unreachable locations.

Lumian pivoted and retraced his steps, but the drowsiness persisted, growing in intensity with each pa.s.sing moment.

At last, his resolve crumbled. His eyes slid shut, and he slumped to the ground.

Darkness consumed his vision once more.

…

Lumian was suddenly gripped by a sharp pain in his abdomen, causing him to curl up and open his eyes.

First, he saw a dazzling mural with a curved dome, followed by the stern visage of the padre along with his slightly hooked nose, and Pons Bénet’s right fist, which he withdrew with a sinister grin.

I’ve been captured and brought to the cathedral? Lumian recognized the scene overhead and instinctively scanned his surroundings.

He saw Reimund’s father, Pierre Greg, Ava’s father, Guillaume Lizier, his neighbor Louis Bedeau, and nearly all the villagers.

The altar had transformed beyond recognition, now adorned with lilacs, tulips, and other symbols of that hidden ent.i.ty instead of sunflowers.

The Sun Sacred Emblem had vanished, replaced by an unnaturally twisted thorn ring, seemingly oozing black liquid.

Spotting the familiar symbol, Lumian felt a wave of dizziness as heat surged in his chest.

He knew this was a sign that the corruption within him had been stirred but remained trapped within the bluish-black symbol.

The padre and his followers have turned the cathedral into an altar for the hidden ent.i.ty? Poor St. Sith… Lumian imagined Valentine would go berserk upon seeing this.

Bound tightly, he surveyed his surroundings, relieved to find the stained gla.s.s and murals depicting the great Eternal Blazing Sun and St. Sith’s preaching unscathed.

It seems the alterations were hastily made… Lumian deduced the cathedral’s current state.

The villagers stood eerily silent, like wax figures.

After observing Lumian for a moment, the padre scolded Pons Bénet.

...

“How could you let him sleep? You should have woken him up as soon as you brought him back to the cathedral!”

“Understood,” Pons Bénet replied, his gaze unusually deferential, as if the padre were his deity or ruler.

Leaning against a pillar, Lumian glanced up at Guillaume Bénet. “Where’s Aurore?”

The padre smiled cryptically. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“What about the three foreigners?” Lumian frantically devised an escape plan while trying to maintain the conversation.

Guillaume Bénet gazed through the stained gla.s.s, his expression relaxed. “They’ve escaped. They should be at the nearest alpine pasture by now. But don’t expect them to rescue you and Aurore tonight. Knowing the officials, they’ll stall and merely observe. They’ll only act after confirming the situation. Sometimes, they’d rather do nothing than make a mistake. That’s how they wasted a decade of mine.”

Lumian conceded the padre’s point, but he knew that wasn’t why Ryan and the others were waiting.

Without understanding why the evil G.o.d’s followers had captured him and Aurore, Ryan’s group wouldn’t take drastic measures, like triggering the loop’s reboot by leaving Cordu. They wanted to wait until the twelfth night to uncover the cause of the disturbance here, laying a solid foundation for escaping the predicament in the future.

Lumian’s silence caused the padre’s grin to widen.

In a matter-of-fact tone, he announced, “I plan to complete the ritual tonight.”

What? Lumian was baffled.

...

In high spirits, Guillaume Bénet patiently elaborated, “I intend to move the April 9th ritual to tonight. The three foreigners won’t have a chance to interfere.”

What? The twelfth night can be moved up? Lumian was shocked, speechless, and inexplicably terrified.

At that moment, Guillaume Bénet turned to Pons Bénet and instructed, “Before taking him to the altar, ensure he stays awake. You may use any method, just don’t kill him.”

Pons Bénet asked eagerly, “What if I kill him?”

“We’ll die together!” The padre glared at his dim-witted brother.

Send me to the altar and start the ritual again? Could the bluish-black symbol on me be useful again? Lumian’s nerves steadied as he listened to the Bénet brothers’ conversation.

The padre redirected his gaze to Lumian and leaned down. “Don’t worry, you’re not the vessel. We have a better choice.”

A better choice? Lumian’s alarm grew as he followed the padre’s gaze to the original altar.

Aurore had appeared there at some point in time, dressed in a plain white robe, her golden hair unadorned and her light-blue eyes vacant.

“Aurore!” Lumian cried out.

Aurore remained statue-like, unresponsive.

The padre smiled and nodded.

“Yes, your sister is the superior vessel. Your role in the ritual is to help us expedite the timeline. We needn’t wait for that exact moment or the shift in the constellations.”

Lumian was terrified and bewildered.

Why can I help bring forward the twelfth night’s ritual?

The padre leaned in once more, a smile of antic.i.p.ation on his face.

“Because most of the boons we’d prayed for are within you.”

What? How does he know? Lumian’s eyes widened, straining to scrutinize Guillaume Bénet’s face more closely.

Guillaume Bénet leaned in and whispered into Lumian’s ear, “Did you really think you and Pualis were the only ones able to retain memories in the loop?”