Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability

667 Approaching Gentleness
Camus’s nerves tensed as he propped himself up on his left hand, surveying his surroundings warily.

He realized he was still on the second floor of Twanaku’s house. Rhea, who had been leaning against a wooden pillar, stood up in a daze.

Everything around him seemed no different from before he had fallen asleep.

“Are you joking?” Camus asked Louis Berry cautiously.

What kind of Dream Festival is this?

This feels like a normal awakening after a nap!

Lumian turned and pointed out the window.

“Listen to the forest sounds.”

Camus and Rhea instinctively listened, realizing that the nearby forest was eerily silent, as if all its inhabitants had fallen asleep in the night.

Wh— Rhea’s eyes narrowed.

Born and raised in the primitive forest and having lived in Tizamo Town for nearly a year, she knew the forest wouldn’t be in such absolute silence.

Lumian pointed at the floor beside the mosquito repellent candle.

“Look here again.”

Camus and Rhea looked over, realizing that the mosquito corpses that should have been there were gone.

Lumian chuckled.

“Of course, you can also believe that I woke up early, cleaned up the environment, and secretly affected your hearing of distant voices. All of this was just a prank.”

Camus pondered for a few seconds.

“I’m inclined to believe you, but I need to confirm something.”

“Indeed,” Rhea chimed in, carrying a hunting bow and arrows.

Lumian looked at them and nodded slightly. He calmly concluded, I can now determine that the reason I remain conscious in this peculiar dream stems from a hidden power within Hisoka’s house, not any special traits of my own.

He had invited Camus and Rhea to slumber in Hisoka’s house and enter the special dream not merely to share information with the patrol team and gather a few aides.

No, it was also an experiment to uncover key details!

Over the past few days, Lumian had conducted numerous similar trials, grasping the dream’s nuanced patterns like a seasoned explorer mapping uncharted lands.

With hands tucked nonchalantly in his pockets, he trailed behind Camus and Rhea, who hurried downstairs. He wanted to witness how they would confirm whether this was indeed a dream.

After departing Twanaku’s house, the two patrol members rushed to the nearest townsperson’s abode.

Upon realizing the livestock had vanished from the ground floor, Rhea swiftly ascended to the second story and attempted to unlock the door with a simple iron-black key.

Camus opened his mouth as if to dissuade her, but in the end, remained silent.

Observing this, Lumian nodded thoughtfully and muttered to himself, A Beyonder of the Arbiter pathway will subconsciously maintain the current order, unwilling to disrupt its fabric. If such Beyonders also bear official identities, this tendency only intensifies…

Rhea rapped upon the door and entered the dwelling. She and Camus scoured each room, but the resident family had seemingly evaporated into thin air.

Then, the pair made their way to the police station near the Saint-Sien Cathedral’s hallowed grounds.

The local patrol quarters held five rooms in total.

Kolobo, Maslow, and Loban were nowhere to be found, nor were the two officers meant to stand the night watch.

“I now believe this is a dream,” Camus declared to Louis Berry, who leisurely trailed with hands tucked in pockets, a golden straw hat shading his features. “Yet I’m so utterly awake that it defies the very notion of a dream.”

Before Lumian could respond, Rhea’s light-brown face furrowed slightly.

“When I ran down the street and searched these rooms, it felt a little… familiar.”

“Familiar?” Lumian asked calmly, his brows unfurrowed.
Could there be unexpected gains from this experiment?

Rhea pondered for a moment.

“I think I’ve had a similar dream before.”

“In my dream, it was just as dark and quiet. The streets were empty, and I was alone. I ran around, searching…”

“Was it a mere fragment or a complete dream?” Lumian pressed.

Rhea thought for a few seconds.

“I don’t know. I only remember a few such scenes.”

“Do you often dream of this, or only occasionally?” Lumian guided her to confirm the details.

Rhea replied with certainty, “Occasionally.”

“Occasionally…”

Even if the Tizamo residents don’t slumber here on a specific date, they can occasionally enter this peculiar dream, yet remain unable to stay awake. Like a normal dream?

Perhaps it’s not true immersion, but rather an unconscious development spiritually spawned from the crimson moon and other environmental elements, allowing them to vaguely interact. Unfortunately, Rhea clearly doesn’t recall the moon, weather, and other situational details from those dreams. If I could employ Dream Divination, I could aid her recollection…

The few Tizamons I queried in Port Pylos made no mention of such dreams. Firstly, dreams so ordinary often slip the mind. Secondly, they’ve been away from Tizamo for years… As Lumian’s thoughts raced, he turned to Camus to see if the Interrogator had any queries.

Camus pondered for a moment before asking Rhea, “What do you think is special about the residents of Tizamo?”

Very perceptive. Since this dream seems to affect the entire town and surrounding area, it’s likely these people will display some abnormality in waking life… Lumian nodded inwardly.

Rhea thought for a moment.

“Nothing special. It’s just that they’re very… obedient.”

At this, Rhea sighed.

“They’re extremely polite to others. Gentle personalities, stable emotions, very obedient. Even when angered, they quickly calm down. When trouble arises, they tend to let the authorities handle it instead of fighting amongst themselves or causing public disturbances…”

These were all situations Lumian had heard Camus mention and seen in the corresponding intel. On the surface, nothing seemed amiss. It was a state of being tamed.

Rhea added, “Their only issue is a lack of enthusiasm. It’s not that politeness masks an underlying coldness or hatred. They’re simply… unenthusiastic, as if reluctant to openly display emotion.”

Upon hearing this, Lumian recalled the Tizamons he’d interacted with over the past few days.

Apart from some gentlemen and ladies from the Northern Continent, the others were calm, gentle, and disinclined to argue. They always communicated politely.

Immediately after, he recalled the Tizamons questioned in Port Pylos—fear, worry, ingratiating expressions, vivid emotions.

Clearly different from the Tizamo townspeople!

Most of their emotions have been drawn away into the dream? Lumian finally pinpointed an abnormality about the Tizamons.

Their issue clearly didn’t stem solely from attacks by the primitive forest tribe!

Upon hearing Lumian’s guess, Camus couldn’t help but hiss.

“I knew it. The Tizamons feel… strange. Too docile. Even livestock occasionally grow agitated, resists… Could the reason be…”

Rhea’s heart skipped a beat as she said solemnly, voice laced with fear, “I’ve been here nearly a year, and I feel much gentler…

“My most intense emotions haven’t dissipated. They’re still in my heart, but most of the time, it’s as if I’m… asleep…”

Rhea began analyzing herself. “From the looks of it, everyone in Tizamo will gradually be affected by this peculiar dream. After leaving, they can slowly escape its influence.” Lumian glanced at Camus. “For outsiders like us, who’ve only been here a few days, there’s no issue for now. Perhaps we’ll also become unnaturally gentle if we linger too long.”

Without waiting for Camus’s response, Lumian inquired, “When will reinforcements from the patrol team and Admiral Guard arrive?”

At the mention of this, Camus’s expression soured. He gritted his teeth and cursed, “Those selfish bastards! It’s very likely there won’t be much support.”

“The Admiral Guard said they already have a Beyonder team here and an army. Only Captain Reaza expressed backing for the patrol team. Dammit, those dogsh*t!”

Lumian was taken aback for a moment before bursting into laughter. The newly formed organization under the aboriginal admiral was indeed different from the official Northern Continent organizations.

If this were the Eternal Blazing Sun Church or Church of Earth Mother, the official Beyonders would have already devised a plan and dispatched sufficient force to resolve the issue. They’d be prepared to obliterate Tizamo if anything went awry.

The current situation is Admiral Querarill believes that with me—a famed adventurer backed by the Church of The Fool, here—I’m able to use its power to resolve Tizamo’s troubles. Is there a need to send more Beyonder subordinates to aid me?

That’s true. Beyonders aren’t commodities. If too many powerful ones perish, not only will Admiral Querarill feel the strain, but he won’t be able to effectively rule Matani…

Recruitment alone can’t quickly fill such a gap, and they won’t be quick to trust newcomers. Even nurturing the remaining people with the retrieved Beyonder characteristics poses huge problems. Low-Sequence Beyonders are manageable, but Mid-Sequence advancement carries high failure risk. After all, most here haven’t mastered the acting method… Lumian quickly grasped Admiral Querarill’s mentality.

He said to the agitated Camus, “Let me show you around this dream realm and provide an introduction.”

“Alright.” Camus took a deep breath.

He and Rhea followed Lumian through the dark, silent, vacant town.

After a long while, Lumian led the two patrol members into the primitive forest. He informed them he’d seen Twanaku’s image in the chaotic zone ahead, seemingly composed of dream fragments. He suspected there was a Desire Apostle mark present.

Walking amongst the trees, giants in the night, Camus felt increasingly oppressed.

Before he could inquire about Twanaku’s image details, he suddenly heard a bowstring drawn taut.

Pa!

An arrow, entwined with lightning, flew from afar. Camus dodged just in time as it grazed past, piercing into a rubber tree behind him amidst crackling lightning and charred bark. Lumian, Camus, and Rhea gazed into the distance, spotting a woman standing on a huge tree branch.

The woman wore dark leather armor, holding a hunting bow and arrows. Her brown hair was tied in two strands draped over her shoulders.

Her light brown skin and wild, beautiful face couldn’t hide the coldness and hatred behind her eyes.

Rhea!

It was Rhea!

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