322 Pleasure
“Only death endures forever?”
Lumian and Jenna struggled to grasp the gravity of the situation unfolding before them. Their attention turned towards Franca.
Franca observed as Sallent bowed and offered his prayers before departing from the dimly lit basement. The mirror’s enigmatic display dissolved into darkness, marking the end of the divination. She spoke contemplatively, “He seems to be from the Numinous Episcopate.”
Numinous Episcopate? Lumian, who had encountered references to this secret organization within Aurore’s grimoires, knew that it originated from the royal lineage of the Balam Empire on the Southern Continent and ancient Death believers. The organization’s mission seemed to involve awakening or reviving Death while expelling colonists to restore the Balam Empire to its former glory.
Aurore’s knowledge of the Numinous Episcopate was somewhat superficial, lacking details about prominent figures, rituals, or specific practices.
“The Numinous Episcopate?” Jenna’s lack of familiarity was apparent in her voice.
Franca proceeded to provide a succinct overview of the Numinous Episcopate’s background, aligning with Lumian’s understanding.
She concluded, “In the Southern Continent, the Numinous Episcopate holds a comparable status to the Rose School of Thought. Although they don’t resort to blood sacrifices or terrorism like some secret faith-based organizations, rituals are inherent to their nature. The Numinous Episcopate’s pursuit of death’s revival necessitates sacrificial rites.”
“Right, the Numinous Episcopate’s leader is a demigod nicknamed Pale Empress.”
Pale Empress? Given the Numinous Episcopate’s similarity in strength to the Rose School of Thought, it’s plausible that Pale Empress is an angel… Lumian rubbed his head, lacking the energy to analyze further.
Jenna’s gaze shifted toward the Highland Mystic Potion shop, her confusion evident.
“Why would the shop owner, an Intisian, join the Numinous Episcopate?”
The Numinous Episcopate’s goal was to eradicate colonists and rebuild the Balam Empire. Intis was one of the colonial powers established in West Balam.
Sallent, though having lived in the Southern Continent for over a decade and reaping the rewards of being an Intisian, found himself in a puzzling predicament. His allegiance to the Numinous Episcopate, despite these benefits, raised questions. Sallent wasn’t one of the lowest-class denizens of Trier like Jenna who didn’t have a clear concept of colonial interests.
Franca muttered, “Who knows? Numerous possibilities exist. Enforced conversion after being captured, manipulation by mysterious forces, gradual enticement with escalating benefits leading to devout belief, or a transformative experience thanks to being rescued by a kind Death believer.
“In any case, the Numinous Episcopate displays cunning by employing a genuine Northern Continent native to operate a mystical potion shop, peddle mummies, and act as an inconspicuous spy. Their strategy appears well-orchestrated, defying easy suspicion.”
Observing Lumian’s weariness, Franca decided to not delve further. She located a nearby inn and secured lodgings for them.
Upon Lumian’s awakening, sunlight streamed through the glass window, casting a warm glow on Franca and Jenna, who were seated at the table. The sky was serene, adorned with fluffy clouds resembling wisps of cotton.
Franca and Jenna savored a burrito seasoned with spices, enveloping succulent beef and mutton, while Lumian indulged in a plate of roasted onions, potatoes, corn, and assorted meats. A sweet corn-based beverage graced their table, emanating a delightful aroma.
As Lumian sat up, a chuckle escaped his lips. “Looks like you two had quite the time.”
Munching on her food, Franca mumbled, “I don’t often venture to the Star Highlands, and I accomplished what I set out to do. Naturally, it’s time to unwind.
“What’s this called? It’s called… Dammit, forget it. You get the idea!”
Despite a prolonged attempt, Franca struggled to articulate her thoughts in the appropriate language. Eventually, she abandoned the effort, prioritizing her meal.
Jenna gestured to her right. “We brought you some lunch.”
A strip of fried beef, coated with a crimson sauce exuding a subtle alcoholic aroma, lay before Lumian.
“I figured you might be hesitant to venture out due to the language barrier,” Lumian admitted, promptly satisfying his hunger.
He had previously realized that only a minority of the locals understood Intisian, and even then, only on a basic level for rudimentary communication.
Franca, swallowing a bite of burrito, sipped on a cup of steaming corn juice.
“Body language is universal.”
Jenna added with a grin, “Franca’s gestures are truly something to behold. She even mimics pig squeals, cow moos, and sheep bleats to communicate her meat preferences to vendors unfamiliar with Intisian. Yet, the nobles here are a departure from my expectations. They appear more akin to Northern Continent counterparts than their Southern Continent peers.”
In this relaxed ambiance, the trio enjoyed a leisurely lunch, recounting their escapades as if they were on an authentic holiday.
…
Under the cover of night, within the Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman district, nestled at Rist docks, an abandoned building stood—a site Lumian had previously set ablaze.
Cognizant of the potential disturbances that advancements within an apartment might trigger among nearby residents, Franca heeded Lumian’s advice and selected this vacant location.
Promptly erecting a wall of spirituality, Franca collected the ashes of the incinerated mummy—thanks to Lumian—along with the other requisite ingredients.
Meanwhile, Lumian and Jenna maintained a careful distance, intently observing as Franca adroitly mixed the ingredients and consumed the potion.
A brief hush enveloped the scene, then Franca’s visage twisted in anguish.
Almost instantly, her flaxen hair, formerly bound in a ponytail, broke free of its constraints. Propelled by an invisible force, the hair drifted and extended, resembling a radiant web expanding in all directions.
More ethereal strands emerged, dense and elongated. Swiftly, they populated the space embraced by the wall of spirituality, fashioning a spectral woodland of filaments.
Once again, Jenna bore witness to the mystifying and surreal attributes of the potion,
while obscured by the burgeoning hair. Alongside Lumian, she patiently awaited the anomaly to subside.
Whether this passage of time spanned dozens of seconds or stretched beyond two minutes, the ethereal flaxen hair finally withdrew, returning to Franca’s form.
With a jubilant countenance, Franca pivoted to face her companions, her limpid eyes radiating contentment.
“Everything went quite seamlessly. I’m anticipating future advancements to be quite cumbersome and challenging.”
Curiously, Jenna found Franca’s flowery blouse and off-white breeches harmonizing impeccably with her demeanor for the first time. The attire seemed to accentuate an ineffable allure, evoking a blush and a warmth in Jenna’s ears, despite her own femininity. On the other hand, Lumian experienced an unfamiliar and unwanted warmth and reaction.
As Franca acclimated to the powers of the Demoness of Pleasure, Lumian and Jenna’s racing hearts eventually steadied, restoring a semblance of normality.
Concluding their task and dismantling the spiritual barrier, Franca rejoined them, sporting a radiant smile. Her eyes shimmered akin to a lake glinting with reflected light.
“How much of an improvement are we talking about?” Lumian posed a direct question.
A rough comprehension of the situation would facilitate better teamwork!
Franca’s eyes danced playfully as she responded, a grin adorning her face. “Take a guess.”
“I’m not a Demoness. How can I guess?” Lumian’s retort barely left his lips before he frowned.
An intangible force had coiled around his legs and body!
Then, with a sudden rush, Lumian’s form was engulfed in crimson flames that erupted from within him, engulfing the enigmatic threads.
Only now did Lumian and Jenna perceive the intangible tendrils, tinted in fiery hues resembling translucent spider silk.
Amidst her amusement, Franca inquired of Lumian and Jenna with a mischievous glint, “Do you understand now? Perhaps you’d like to explore another?”
“No!”
“No need.”
In unison, Jenna and Lumian retorted, their voices echoing their apprehension.
Franca maintained her smile, suggesting, “Are you truly certain you don’t wish to give it a try? I assure you, a mere touch can envelop you in true pleasure.”
“Dammit!” Jenna instinctively retreated a step, her expletive punctuating her reaction.
Lumian regarded Franca, grappling with whether she was indeed teasing him or harboring some genuine intent.
Yes, the target should be Jenna… I can’t rule out the possibility of using simple contact to embarrass me… As Lumian’s thoughts raced, Franca suddenly composed herself and said seriously, “In addition to the two I mentioned earlier, my proficiency in Black Fire, Frost, Curse, and Mirror magic has all been elevated. Their integration has expanded as well. For instance, I can utilize a mirror to focus on a target and employ Black Fire to enact a curse. Another scenario involves my utilization of Mirror Substitution and Staff Substitution to counteract fatal harm while gaining some measure of recuperation.
“My capabilities as an Assassin and Instigator have also been enhanced.”
She succinctly summarized her advancements without delving into particulars.
Lumian nodded, mulling over Franca’s capabilities. He inquired thoughtfully, “Do you possess a charm-like ability too?”
Franca’s smile hinted at an answer, but she chose to remain silent.
Jenna observed Franca for a moment and then noted something else, pointing at her and remarking, “You’ve become even more beautiful!”
Franca’s individual features and overall appearance had transcended any imperfections. Her demeanor radiated an undeniable brilliance—a striking, flamboyant beauty that demanded no disguise.
“Is that so?” Franca responded, her surprise evident.
Lumian couldn’t resist stroking his chin, pondering whether Madame Hidden Blade would genuinely switch to Iron-blooded Knight when going from Sequence 5 to Sequence 4.
As Lumian bade Franca and Jenna farewell and embarked on his return to Auberge du Coq Doré, a sudden realization swept over him. He lowered his voice and inquired, “Temiboros, what’s the next boon after Contractee?”
Yet, Termiboros remained silent, offering no reply.
Lumian let out a scoff.
“It’s fine. Once I locate the padre, he’ll divulge the information.”
Although his confidence might waver internally, maintaining an outward appearance of assurance was essential in times like these.
…
The day of the prophesied event arrived swiftly.
In Quartier de la Princesse Rouge, at the crossroads of Rue de la Muraille and Rue du Cheval Blanc, Lumian disembarked from a public carriage with a casual grace. Clad in a white shirt, a black vest, brown trousers, and sleek leather shoes, he cast his gaze upon the slumbering neighborhood that lay ahead.
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