663 Late Night
Like many cathedrals in Intis, Tizamo’s had a golden dome, resembling the sun’s reflection on the ground.
As Lumian passed through the door, he was dazzled by the walls, arches, gold leaf inlaid in the dome, a mural sprinkled with golden powder, and a golden statue. The sunlight streaming through the glass behind the altar made him instinctively raise his hand, wanting to press down his golden straw hat.
It was lunchtime, and many simply-dressed Tizamo residents sat in various pews, heads bowed in prayer.
They didn’t mind the cathedral’s dazzling, extravagant appearance at all.
This was not only because they had always believed in the Eternal Blazing Sun since childhood, but they also had numerous gold mines in the former Balam Empire. The people had a widespread fondness for gold, a hobby preserved to this day.
Lumian shared an affinity for gold, but didn’t want to endure the scorching sunlight.
Beside him, Camus tried explaining, “I’m not monitoring you, nor am I saying I’ll follow you everywhere to prevent accidents.
“I’m assisting you. You’re still unfamiliar with Dutanese. You lack sufficient understanding of the situation in Tizamo and the people here. I can introduce you.”
Lumian seized the opportunity to turn and ask with a smile, “Do you know it well?”
Camus ruffled his disheveled brown hair and replied without embarrassment, “If there’s anything I don’t understand, I can ask Maslow and the others to help.”
Lumian didn’t mind having an official Beyonder by his side. If anything happened, he could use the extra muscle.
He nodded slightly and said, “If you want to follow, go ahead.”
As Lumian spoke, he walked towards the row of seats in front of the altar under the blazing sunlight.
Camus hesitated for a few seconds before finding a seat in the farthest corner of the cathedral.
As a believer of Earth Mother, he could freely enter and exit the cathedrals of all orthodox gods, but he couldn’t participate in acts of worship.
He only knew that Louis Berry had a close connection to the Church of The Fool, but he wasn’t sure if his faith was with The Fool.
Lumian used his Ascetic endurance to control the twitching of his facial muscles. He sat down under the sunlight as if nothing happened and lowered his head to pray in front of the preaching padre.
The padre, a native of Port Pylos named Cali, had standard dark brown skin, sunken eyes, and a chiseled face. He only had a thin layer of black hair, not wearing a clergyman’s hat.
In his forties with a solemn expression, he preached in unaccented Intisian.
Lumian, feigning prayer, found himself distracted. Thoughts raced through his mind, making him feel as if he had returned to Cordu. Back then, even when attending Mass and praying in the cathedral, he was lost in his own thoughts. When it was almost over, he quickly praised the Sun and wished his sister would always be healthy and that he wouldn’t need much homework or test prep to get into university.
None of that came true.
After the padre finished preaching, Lumian raised his head and narrowed his eyes in the sunlight, focusing on observing the padre’s fortune.
There was nothing special about it.
On the surface, there’s indeed nothing abnormal about Tizamo… Amidst sunburn-like pain, Lumian planned to avert his gaze, but his heart stirred as he activated his Reaper’s Weakness Investigation ability.
He thought of Padre Guillaume Bénet and Father Montserrat of the Church of Earth Mother.
Who said clergymen from orthodox Churches wouldn’t be problematic?
In that case, he could observe the padre’s weaknesses in advance. If he truly encountered clerical depravity in the future, he could quickly resolve it.
Various colors appeared on the padre’s body in Lumian’s eyes.
However, there was no pale-white among them!
This meant the padre had no weaknesses!
Impossible. Even if this padre is a Beyonder, his Sequence shouldn’t be too high. How can he have no weaknesses? The Sun pathway isn’t known for toughness and imperviousness… Could he be from another pathway? No, all likely have weaknesses… Amidst surprise, Lumian observed more closely.
Finally, he noticed a faint pallor.
It wasn’t on the padre’s body, but in the depths of his Astral Projection.
Does this mean his weakness lies in his spirit, fearing attacks targeting his Spirit Body? How did he manage to have no bodily weaknesses… From the looks of it, I have to dismantle his body piece by piece to kill him if I’m not targeting his Spirit Body… Lumian’s surprise quickly dissipated, replaced by joy and anticipation.
Regardless, discovering any abnormalities was a good thing!
This meant he was a step closer to the problem in Tizamo and the Dream Festival Hisoka had mentioned.
“Brother, what are you looking at?” Cali asked Lumian with a smile, clutching a Bible.
Lumian responded with a smile, “Looking at the sunlight on you.
“Praise the Sun!”
With that, Lumian stood up, spread his arms slightly, and turned to leave.
Now was not the time to delve into the abnormality in the padre’s body.
Padre Cali was delighted by Lumian’s response.
Firstly, the other party was subtly praising him for being bathed in sunlight, akin to a deity’s blessings. Secondly, as a local clergyman without Northern blood, he had always yearned for Northern gentry’s recognition.
After leaving the Saint-Sien Cathedral, Lumian casually had Camus circle the entirety of Tizamo twice with him, including the military camp, plantation, and the outskirts of the primitive forest.
Camus eagerly introduced everyone he knew.
As evening approached, Lumian made his way towards the Brieu Motel and asked, “What did you do with that dead horse?”
“I sold it to the butcher. I’m planning to buy a new one from a nearby planter,” Camus replied matter-of-factly.
Lumian felt a twinge of disappointment for Ludwig. He remained silent and entered the motel.
Late at night.
In the shadows outside the Brieu Motel, Lumian emerged, no longer wearing his golden straw hat. He strolled towards the yellowish-brown house that “Hisoka” Twanaku had rebuilt.
It was nearly midnight, and Tizamo had grown very quiet. Apart from a few patrolling soldiers, drunk patrons, and their companions, no one else was walking outside.
Under the crimson moonlight, Lumian passed by the bar named Giant Boa and heard a commotion inside.
In the primitive forest a few hundred meters away, the howls of wild beasts echoed intermittently.
Lumian proceeded until he reached his destination. He ascended to the third level and found the wooden bed he had slept on earlier.
He busied himself for a while, making preparations. He wasn’t in a hurry to lie down. He looked around and muttered to himself thoughtfully, “Termiboros, have you noticed anything unusual here?”
Termiboros’s majestic voice reverberated within Lumian’s body.
“I’m using your eyes, ears, nose, spirituality, and fate to observe the outside world—just slightly more than what you see.”
Does this mean that what I see and discover will still be restricted by my body, spirituality, and level? Hold on, this fellow is becoming more and more like a riddler. He didn’t directly answer if there’s anything abnormal about this house or what’s abnormal… Lumian scoffed.
“Are you truly an Angel of the Fate domain? I’m already a Sequence 5, and you can’t use my eyes and spirituality to detect the problem here. Haven’t you noticed that a Sequence 8 of the Monster pathway can sense that this place is cold?
“No way. Are Angels of the Inevitability pathway inferior to Sequence 8s of the Fate pathway?”
The Monster pathway was also known as the Fate pathway.
Lumian provoked Termiboros to see if he could extract any useful information from this Angel-level Ascetic.
He didn’t hold out much hope, but at least he wouldn’t lose anything.
Termiboros fell silent, as if He had vanished from Lumian’s body.
“How tolerant. As expected of an Ascetic Angel,” Lumian mocked. He took out the golden pocket watch he had obtained from Salle de Bal Brise and flipped it open to confirm the current time.
11:51 p.m.
Putting away his pocket watch, Lumian lay on the wooden bed in the room.
This time, he was here to see if sleeping in the house at night would trigger any abnormalities and if he could enter a special dream to participate in the Dream Festival.
To this end, Lumian had instructed Ludwig in advance to wake him up in the house rebuilt by Twanaku if he wasn’t back by the time they had their second meal.
After Lumian promised there would be a feast the next day, Ludwig agreed.
With crackling sounds, the menacing spiders crawling on the outer walls of the house and the numerous mosquitoes in the room burned and fell, emitting a charred fragrance.
Relying on Cogitation, Lumian swiftly drifted into a deep slumber.
In a daze, he slowly woke up. He straightened up and realized that he was still on the wooden bed, in the master bedroom on the third floor of Hisoka’s house.
It was late at night outside the window, and the crimson moonlight seemed to be obscured by clouds. Only a small amount of light filtered through, making it abnormally dim.
The howling of wild beasts in the primitive forest and the faint noise from the bar had completely ceased. The night had entered its most peaceful state, as silent as death.
There’s no change… Lumian sighed in disappointment.
Just as he was about to take out his golden pocket watch to confirm the time and leave the house in the dark environment to return to the Brieu Motel, his pupils suddenly dilated and his eyes froze.
Under the dim crimson moonlight, Lumian swiftly scanned the room’s floor.
He didn’t see mosquito corpses!
The mosquitoes he had incinerated with his Pyromaniac powers before falling asleep should have been charred on the ground, but now, they were nowhere to be found. The floor was clean as if it had just been cleaned!
Could it be that someone came in while I was asleep and cleaned the room? I’ve planted several traps around me. They can’t be easily bypassed… Wraith? Lumian instantly tensed up. He took out the golden pocket watch he had previously kept in his shirt pocket under his vest and flipped it open to check the time.
11:58 p.m.