Circle of Inevitability

In the room with the thick curtains, Lumian suddenly felt the Mirror Substitution inside his clothes turn abnormally cold. Even through the linen shirt, he couldn't help but shiver.

His heart tightened. He couldn't afford to feign sleep anymore. He sat up and took out the mirror.

Beneath the faint crimson moonlight, the mirror lost its luster, its surface resembling ice.

Lumian knew that Franca was in danger. Without hesitation, he activated the mystical connection between the substitute and its true form, emitting a dim light from the black mark on his right shoulder.

In an instant, Lumian vanished from the bed, reappearing in the living room at 6 Rue des Blouses Blanches.

Almost simultaneously, Lumian saw the surroundings engulfed in an eerie grayness, a fog obscuring the crimson moonlight. Franca lay in a recliner, her body contorting as if she fought for survival.

Her lake-colored eyes were filled with a turbulent mix of emotions: anger, fear, anxiety, and worry. A vague figure seemed to encircle her. Her head tried to move, but her movements were restrained by invisible threads.

Suddenly, the sound of nails scraping on a blackboard assaulted their senses, incomprehensible words piercing their Spirit Bodies. Their consciousness soared upward until they reached a dark void shimmering with countless stars.

In the highest reaches of this void, mysterious symbols swirled, their forms beyond description.

They coalesced into a dynamic, otherworldly door that defied the intrusion of even the moon's crimson light.

Lumian and Franca's spirits were drawn inexorably toward the door. As they approached, a faint voice emanated from within—a voice that seemed to hold the secrets of the entire universe, as well as the madness, self-destruction, and darkness lurking within every heart.

With each step toward the dynamic door, the maddening ramblings grew more intense, causing their heads to throb in agony. Yet an overpowering, primal urge compelled them to enter, to merge with the formless entity behind the door, and to partake in a clandestine pact that promised essential, primordial, extraordinary, and potent knowledge.

Amidst the sea of incomprehensible symbols, the door stood slightly ajar, allowing invisible entities to pass through.

With a resounding hum, Lumian and Franca's minds were plunged into a state of blankness, as if struck by a relentless force.

The chaotic ravings they had heard coalesced into grotesque, shadowy entities that corroded their very Soul Bodies and physical bodies.

Franca's eyes widened, and her flaxen-colored hair fluttered in the windless air, vaguely thickening.

Blood seeped from the corners of her eyes, nostrils, ears, mouth, and pores, as if a demon was trying to separate her flesh from her skin.

Franca's thoughts were in a state of intense disorder, as if a human had been thrown into a factory blender.

Seizing the moment, the Wraith that had been attached to Franca detached itself from the Demoness of Pleasure.

This Wraith, dressed in a sleek black suit, its eyes flickering with a sinister green hue, let out a piercing shriek.

A cacophonous shattering sound, both illusory and real, filled the room as Franca's body vanished from the recliner and reappeared in the bedroom.

Her Mirror Substitution had been activated instinctively, saving her from losing control, but she remained unconscious, collapsing on the spot.

Beneath the shattered mirror's reflection on the recliner, Lumian, though still affected by the ravings and shrieks, fared better than Franca.

His extensive experience with advancing Sequences and invoking boons where he met with more potent and terrifying murmurs had fortified his resistance against such assaults.

Despite the excruciating headache, scattered thoughts, and ruptured capillaries in various places, he retained some semblance of instinctual reaction and basic cognition. His face contorted grotesquely amidst the blood, but he held on.

In the next moment, the Wraith disappeared from the recliner and manifested within Lumian's blue eyes.

His mind instantly fogged, and his body grew frigid, as if his very blood had turned to ice.

Still capable of thought, Lumian promptly utilized his spirit world traversal ability to escape the room, teleporting several hundred meters away.

He understood that a Marionettist couldn't naturally transform into a Wraith, and the Wraith that possessed him was likely a marionette. With their distinctive combat styles, it was improbable for a Marionettist to engage directly. Therefore, once the marionette was beyond the Marionettist's range, it would lose control and become useless.

When the time came, Lumian would "teleport" back and attempt to take Franca away.

While this would leave him essentially incapacitated, it would also disable Loki's marionette. The adversary would then need to decide whether to launch a direct assault or retreat cautiously, as he couldn't predict how many teleportations Lumian's spirituality could endure—a capability unusual for a Pyromaniac. Loki's assessment might not be entirely accurate in this regard!

Just as Lumian was on the verge of activating his spirit world traversal mark, he heard a magnetic voice: "Give up."

The words pierced Lumian's Spirit Body, disrupting his intentions.

Subsequently, his thoughts grew sluggish, and his body stiffened.

The magnetic voice chuckled softly.

"I don't know what kind of trap you've set in your room, but it likely involves Hela, doesn't it? After all, without her cooperation, you couldn't have masqueraded as Muggle and infiltrated the Research Society, could you? Lumian Lee, Aurore Lee's brother, I've seen your wanted poster."

"In Trier, the easiest Beyonder to come into contact with is from the Hunter pathway. That's why there's a saying:

"'Never fight a Hunter on his turf.'

"No one knows what sort of strange traps Hunters have laid in their 'turf.'

"I didn't want to take that risk, nor did I plan to face Hela directly. Although I'm not overly concerned about her unless she's found a way to become a demigod, why would I engage her on a Hunter's 'turf'? My choice was to stage a surprise attack on Hidden Blade, drawing you out and away from your turf to fight on a ground of my choosing.

"After this afternoon's reconnaissance, I confirmed that both of you possess an item capable of monitoring each other's condition or a mysticism connection—likely the exchange of Mirror Substitution. Heh heh, ever wonder what my other marionette was doing during that time?

"In truth, I have no intention of killing Hidden Blade or turning her into a marionette. A living Demoness serves my purposes better. I can use this encounter to make her suffer and despair. When she advances to Sequence 4 using that, I'll have a demigod marionette…"

The voice carried no provocation, yet each word ignited a burning rage within Lumian.

These words continued to disrupt Lumian's mind and Spirit Body, interfering with his abilities. With the dual constraints of Wraith possession and Marionettist, Lumian resembled a statue, unable to speak or move. He stood frozen, awaiting the inexorable verdict of fate.

A thin gray fog enveloped the room, sealing off all sound from the outside world.

The magnetic voice chuckled again, its taunting words continuing.

"It really shouldn't have been so complicated, but you see, you have a high-ranking individual sealed within you. To ensure my own safety, the only option is to turn you into a marionette. I have no desire to face a high-ranking being after your demise. Who knows if he'll thank me or finish me along the way?

"Curious how I recognized you, aren't you? It's highly unlikely that others would sense the seal within you, but in my eyes, it's as conspicuous as a firefly in the night. The moment you entered the room with the typewriter, I knew you were the one impersonating Muggle. So, unless you could maintain a considerable distance from me, like the first time you tried to evade my tracking, I could have followed you without the aid of my marionette.

"Indeed, when you showed up at the gathering and joined our April Fool's team, I sensed that something was amiss. I suspected that Muggle had used a seal to escape the fragmentation of her soul. Little did I know, she was truly deceased. You are her brother…

"Haha, I still remember, in the latter part of last year, every time she attended a gathering, she sought out I Know Someone to treat her psychological issues and the hidden dangers arising from the improper use of the Soul Summoning Spell. And I Know Someone would divulge her pain, struggles, vulnerabilities, and transformations to all of us each time.

"It's quite vile, completely against a doctor's principles, but it's fun and interesting. It gave us a sense of accomplishment and made us all laugh."

Upon hearing this, Lumian's mind buzzed.

He had been mildly annoyed by Loki's earlier critiques, but now, as Loki recounted Aurore's experiences, his anger reached a boiling point.

Aurore had been genuinely unwell, seeking treatment from a doctor. However, not only did this doctor patronize her, but he also derived amusement from her suffering. He repeatedly violated her privacy, sharing her struggles and illnesses with others, leading them to mock her behind her back.

What made it all the more despicable was that this group of individuals had sold Aurore the Soul Summoning Spell.

Dammit!

Every single one… of them… deserves death!

They deserve… the most tragic way… of death!

Though Lumian's mind remained ensnared in stasis, his anger finally erupted. It surged through his spirit and coursed into his flesh.

He couldn't control it, not under the constant interference.

Crimson flames erupted from Lumian's body, and small red tendrils protruded from his eyes, radiating a malevolent blood-red hue.

It was a precursor to losing control. If this continued, he would truly lose control.

But Lumian felt no fear. Instead, he cooperated.

Even if I… lose control and turn into a monster… or a lunatic… I will… drag you… all of you… into the abyss!

Relying on his body's "instinctive reaction," crimson flames spread in all directions, incinerating the Wraith, igniting furniture, and causing a fire.

Unfortunately, this fiery onslaught proved ineffective against the Wraith-form marionette and Loki, who remained concealed somewhere beyond reach of the flames.

Its sole purpose, for those brief two seconds, was to disrupt the magnetic voice.

"It's useless. I know you mainly aim to use the flames to signal for help from the outside world rather than attacking me directly. But I've previously deceived Hidden Blade. Despite my claims of accelerating the progress, I actually harnessed the power of the gray fog to create a unique environment that isolates information here.

"While you can indeed break through the residual fog barrier if you go all out since I can't ask for too much power, I can't allow that."

As Loki finished speaking, a frenzied, terrifying, violent, and exaggerated aura exploded from Lumian's body. It shredded the thin fog and shot skyward.

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