Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability

769 Incomplete Corpse

769 Incomplete Corpse

Unlike the wilderness Lumian and company had passed through earlier, strewn with grayish-white rocks, the soil on this side of the River Styx was pitch black. There were no withered blood-colored flowers, no ghostly skeletons, and no decaying corpses to be seen.

The sky above was no longer lit by pale, dim, cold “sunlight.” Instead, a rich darkness dominated this boundless world.

Deep within the darkness, clusters of pale-white, greenish-hued flames hung quietly in mid-air, spaced far apart as if serving as street lamps.

Using the illumination from the nearest pale flame, Lumian quickly leaped from the gloomy boat to the shore.

Once his feet hit solid ground, his heart steadied considerably. As he crossed the River Styx, the scent of death in his undead body became more intense and evident, while his spirit and consciousness, tightly protected by the Eggers family’s golden mask, felt a slight chill.

Following that, a sinister coldness pervaded his body, but the highly decayed boatman, with its hollow eyes, simply reinserted its long oar back into the river’s current.

It made no new move to attack Lumian.

It seemed incapable of attacking targets on the shore.

Watching the gloomy boat and the boatman, now facing away from him, slowly drift away, Lumian mused, “Not going to finish it off? With its rank, that decayed human skin would match your messenger quite well” This referred to the Knight of Swords’ messenger, the Half-Fairy, a spirit being missing the outer half of her body, meaning she was precisely lacking human skin, while the boatman was just the peeled skin of a demigod from the Death pathway.

The Knight of Swords was silent for a few seconds, letting his voice echo in Lumian’s ears: “She only lacks her own skin.”

This reply was curt and restrained, yet Lumian almost heard the Knight of Swords roar: Don’t just find any skin for my messenger to wear!

Pausing for a second, the Knight of Swords continued, “We might need to return across the River Styx, and we don’t know how many Ferryman are left there.”

A need to return across the Styx? Lumian then pondered a very serious and important question.

“After dealing with Oxyto’s child, how do we leave the Underworld?”

Clearly, this was not something that could be solved by teleportation.

“Our allies in the outside world should be seeking help from the Death pathway’s Sequence 5 Gatekeeper or a corresponding demigod, which might necessitate our return to the peripheral areas of the Underworld we were in before, to access the bronze doors of the Underworld.”

Lumian nodded, following a vague sensation brought on by the black mark on his right shoulder, and took a step forward.

He didn’t ask the Knight of Swords and the temperance faction demigod if he was veering off the path to find Oxyto’s child.

If he were wrong, they would inform him.

Reaching the nearest pale flame, Lumian realized it truly served as a street lamp.

It was crafted from gold, shaped like a kneeling figure with hands bound behind its back, its head tilted back and torso bent outward.

A dark, sinister wick protruded from the statue’s mouth, coated in a layer of pale yellow translucent grease. The pale-white flame burned quietly, seemingly for thousands of years without a hint of extinguishing.

From this human-shaped lamp onward, the ground was covered with dark, cracked stone slabs.

Lumian could imagine just how solemn and solemn the path to Death’s palace must have been.

(Amonoculus’ note: Not sure why the official translation has used the word solemn twice here.)

He walked along the path, which was inexplicably cracked and shattered, quickly but cautiously heading deeper into the darkness, towards the place suspected to hold the Abscessed Hand’s body part.

The path also presented a slightly downward trajectory.

This reminded Lumian of Hotel Orella he had once stayed in, recalling the words spoken by Iveljsta, a descendant of Death-many believed that the true hell and the origin of death lay deep underground, so one had to continually descend, delving deeper and deeper.

This is reflected in the Underworld too… After walking for a while, Lumian suddenly conjured a large, blazing white flame in his hand.

The bright light quickly dispelled the darkness further away, allowing Lumian to clearly see the surroundings: Mausoleum-style buildings were either completely collapsed or half fallen, deathly quiet, with no bones or bodies. These buildings varied in color, not just black, but also pale-white, golden, dark red, and sinister green.

“Did the Blessed of Death once live in these houses?” Lumian asked the Knight of Swords, who was well-versed in the history of the Southern Continent and the legends of the Underworld.

The Knight of Swords replied succinctly, “I don’t know” He then added, “Only by finding a creature that entered and exited the Underworld before the fall of Death can we be sure.”

“Alright…” Lumian didn’t press further and quickened his pace.

This was because he felt that the body part of the Abscessed Hand was not far ahead!

His right hand went back into the Traveler’s Bag, ready to draw the Sword of Courage at any moment.

As for the Devil’s Whispers ring, he didn’t plan to wear it yet; he didn’t think becoming undead would immunize him against the malevolent effects unleashed by that Sealed Artifact.

Undead beings could harbor malice too!

After all, undead beings such as wraiths and evil spirits were formed around the core of their own obsessions and residual malice.

Moreover, Lumian’s spirit and consciousness were still protected by the golden mask of the Eggers family, remaining in a living state.

After a quick jog, guided by the pale-white flame of the human-shaped street lamps and the blazing white orb above, Lumian discovered a grand structure along the side of the cracked stone slabs.

It appeared to be a cathedral, entirely black and about fifty to sixty meters tall, but its upper half had already collapsed into the lower part.

Lumian concentrated, listening intently, and heard faint, strange sounds emanating from the grand but ruined cathedral.

It was as if someone was using a blunt sword to slice through flesh and saw through bones, causing a headache to the listener.

“I have another matter to resolve inside this cathedral,” Lumian finally disclosed his intent to the Knight of Swords and the temperance faction demigod.

He then firmly added, “It should be quick.”

He remembered what Madam Magician had said: the true danger of the Abscessed Hand would only manifest once all its parts were assembled, and currently, two parts were still in the City of Exiles Morora, so there was no need to worry about that.

The enemy he might face next could be the undead being creating the sound just heard.

“Alright,” the Knight of Swords did not inquire about the specifics.

“Thank you,” Lumian responded sincerely.

The Knight of Swords and the temperance faction demigod neither objected nor disengaged from Lumian’s body, indicating their tacit approval to provide the necessary assistance when needed.

Lumian extinguished the blazing white orb hovering above his head to avoid provoking the undead within the dilapidated cathedral.

He transformed into a shadow, blending into the areas not illuminated by the pale-white flames, and silently infiltrated the building whose upper half had entirely collapsed inward.

From the shadows, Lumian saw columns thrust into the ground, a dome shattered into pieces, and a bird statue broken in half.

After winding through the ruins for a while, Lumian’s path brightened suddenly.

Ten meters ahead on a crumbling wall, several bone torches burning with pale green flames were inserted, the dense darkness above streaming through a large hole created by the collapsed dome, blocked outside by this dim light.

Beneath the bone torches, a long table made of grayish-white stone was set up, upon which lay a half-corpse, head severed and vertically split open.

The corpse wore no clothes, its body bluish-black and swollen with decay, oozing yellowish-red pus everywhere.

It appeared significantly larger than a normal human, unclear whether it was a half-giant in life or merely bloated by post-mortem gasses.

Lumian recognized it instantly-this was the body of the Abscessed Hand!

It comprised the left half, including one hand and one foot.

In front of the Abscessed Hand’s corpse stood a towering figure, about four meters tall. The figure’s skin was pitch-black, etched with numerous sinister patterns, most of which had decayed, exposing bare, ghostly white bones or appearing as half-melted, viscous tissue.

At that moment, this figure, bent over, was slowly cutting into the half-corpse of the Abscessed Hand with an even larger pale-white leg bone, likely from another unknown source.

Lumian noticed two curved, tattered black goat horns growing from the figure’s head, its profile resembling a fusion of human and goat features, becoming increasingly terrifying the longer he looked.

An undead being transformed from a Beyonder of the Devil pathway after death? Just as Lumian had this thought, he saw the goat-faced giant slice off a chunk of bluish-black decaying flesh and stuff it into its mouth, chewing vigorously, causing pale yellow pus to splatter.

On the half-corpse of the Abscessed Hand, the decaying flesh writhed and grew, filling in the cuts made.

A cycle of one eating, the other growing? Lumian was pondering a plan to take the Abscessed Hand’s corpse when the Devil-like undead suddenly turned around, looked towards the shadows where he was hiding, and spoke in an unintelligible language using a hollow, decayed voice.

Though he couldn’t understand the words, Lumian felt a strange pulsation in his flesh, compelling him to leave his shadow form and revert to his undead appearance with the golden mask.

However, the decaying, goat-faced Devil did not take the opportunity to attack.

After two seconds, the voice of the Knight of Swords reached Lumian’s ears: “It’s asking: ‘Do you need flesh?'”

Do you need flesh? Lumian was first stunned, then relieved that he had a translator.

Looking at the hunched-over, Devil-like giant undead, Lumian suddenly had a strange thought: Is this considered making a deal with a Demon?

Has the aftereffects from using the Authority Holder’s Under-the-table Transaction finally caught up with me?

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