Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability

662 Those Words
Kolobo finally turned around.

He took off his sunglasses and spoke in Dutanese with a weary look, “My gut tells me I shouldn’t look directly at them. I can only take a quick glance at most.”

“Why’s that?” Rhea asked curiously, her wildness evident as she carried her hunting bow.

“Just intuition,” Kolobo replied firmly, unsure of the reason but convinced he shouldn’t stare.

Loban, the Feysacian, wore a pensive expression.

“What’s on your mind?” Maslow, his face painted white, turned to him and asked.

The three had worked together in Tizamo Town for a year and understood each other well. Maslow could tell Loban had thought of something from his look.

Observing Camus and the others’ gazes, Loban pondered for a moment before saying, “While adventuring across the Five Seas, I came across this saying: ‘Don’t look directly at God.'”

“Don’t look directly at God…” Camus’s forehead twitched as he whispered the phrase.

As a Castiya family descendant, albeit from a collateral branch, he had more extensive mystical knowledge than most Beyonders.

Could it be that Louis Berry and his godson were actual gods, unable to be gazed upon?

No, that couldn’t be right. Kolobo avoided looking at Twanaku directly, yet Twanaku was merely a Sequence 5 Beyonder of the Prisoner and Criminal pathways—not even a demigod!

“I’ve heard that before during the padre’s sermons. It’s about respecting and worshiping God, right?” said Rhea, a devout Eternal Blazing Sun believer.

“No, it’s not from the Church scriptures. It’s recorded in a mystical text,” Loban shook his head, rejecting her explanation.

Maslow let out a deep chuckle.

“Surely the great adventurer can’t literally be a deity walking among us?”

“Maybe not a true deity,” Loban recalled, “But the book’s notes state it refers to a ‘Mythical Creature’. I’m unsure what exactly that means, but if it contains the word ‘god’, it must have at least some level of godhood. Could that adventurer be a demigod?”

“It doesn’t seem that way currently,” Camus said, gradually forming a new idea. “Perhaps the adventurer is simply one of a deity’s Blessed, carrying a divine item or aura bestowed upon him. So it’s true we can’t directly look at ‘God’, but that ‘God’ isn’t referring to him, only something he possesses.”

This could explain the situation with Twanaku very well.

“You mean like the most famous adventurer?” Loban the Feysacian realized.

Adventurers, treasure hunters, pirates and merchants across the Five Seas now knew Gehrman Sparrow had been The Fool’s Oracle before becoming an Angel.

“Precisely.” Camus nodded.

Simultaneously, he inwardly cursed.

Dogsh*t, why was I sent to watch over matters involving a deity’s Blessed?

This was undoubtedly perilous. A moment of carelessness could lead to death!

Camus hadn’t wanted to accept Vice-Captain Reaza’s order the day before, but over the past five years, Reaza had saved him from the brink of death three times. He couldn’t refuse.

Otherwise, with the prestigious “Don” prefix and Castiya family name, he could have declined his superior’s orders. At worst, he could leave the patrol team and seek opportunities elsewhere. After all, he had already digested the Sequence 7 Interrogator potion. He had saved enough funds for his subsequent advancement thanks to Louis Berry’s two commissions. Even returning to his family, he wouldn’t be the type brushed aside.

But to repay Reaza’s kindness, Camus reluctantly agreed to come to Tizamo Town and monitor Louis Berry’s every move. Feeling upset, he couldn’t help but inwardly curse.

As a devout and educated believer in Mother Earth, Camus wouldn’t curse with vulgar phrases like “son of a…” From his view, mothers were great—birth and nurturing equally important, just as the earth nurtured all things’ growth.

After discussing the adventurer Louis Berry, Loban the Feysacian turned to Camus and Kolobo, saying, “When we transferred to Tizamo, we were told we could return after a year, that we wouldn’t stay forever. Now, nearly a year has passed, and you’re here too. Does that mean we can return to Port Pylos?”

As a Feysacian, you appear tall, robust, boorish, and unintelligent, but you’re actually dishonest… Did you discover that Louis Berry’s matter might be a huge problem and want an excuse to slip away early? Camus acutely sensed Loban’s hidden thoughts and joked, “There’s still a week left! Don’t even think about returning to Port Pylos early. We’re not here for your rotation.”

…

At the Brieu Motel.

This was the favorite accommodation for the gentlemen who came to Tizamo Town to hunt. Although it couldn’t compare to Hotel Orella, it was at least relatively clean.

Lumian’s sole reason for choosing this place was the availability of a suite.

Otherwise, he would have to rent two adjacent rooms and utilize his Hunter’s precise grasp of structures to blast through the adjoining wall without affecting the overall load-bearing walls. When departing, he’d get Lugano to replace the stone bricks and repair the opening.
The ground floor was equally open, supported by stone pillars. However, the three-story building above bore a distinct Intisian flair. The beige walls, recessed statuary niches, arched windows, and venetian curtains made Lumian feel as if he had returned to Trier.

When Lugano lit the mosquito repellent candle and used its slightly pungent smell to chase away the poisonous insects and mosquitoes, it became even more reminiscent.

This is very similar to Trieriens using sulfur’s smell to repel bedbugs… Lumian recalled his initial arrival in Trier.

After using sulfur’s smell to chase the bedbugs into the neighboring room, playwright Gabriel ignited it and drove them back. After this back-and-forth, most bedbugs went elsewhere, leaving only a few that the doll messenger eliminated.

Lumian sighed silently, recalling Gabriel’s death and the deceased tenants of the Auberge du Coq Doré.

He walked to the window and gazed at the street below.

The gentlemen in hunting attire and their servants on unicorns weaved through the dark-brown or light-brown townspeople, flowing into Brieu Motel, jungle restaurants, and other establishments like rivers.

Under the noon sun, Tizamo Town was scorchingly humid this season, making it unsuitable for outdoor activities.

On the second floor, Lumian focused his attention and observed the passersby directly below.

He attempted to discern any potential issues with Tizamo Town from their fortunes.

He was prepared for backlash or corruption.

These passersby’s fortunes are normal. Some seem to have romantic encounters looming, some would lose money, and some might encounter a bloody calamity, but nothing too serious…

Lumian averted his gaze and said to Lugano, “Take Ludwig to rest. I’ll take a walk outside.”

“Alright.” Knowing the trip to Tizamo Town might be dangerous, Lugano had no intention of wandering out unless his boss asked him to prepare food for Ludwig.

He had no choice but to go along. Otherwise, he would be the one eaten!

Tizamo Town wasn’t small with streets spanning out in two directions. Lumian strolled leisurely, hands in pockets, donning a golden straw hat.

He no longer wore the straw hat to enhance Louis Berry’s persona, but to shield himself from the sunlight. He had intended to do so many times before.

This was because an adverse effect of Shadow Transformation was a greater fear of sunlight than ordinary people.

Although Lumian could endure relying on his Ascetic abilities, this would impact his condition to some extent. Why make things difficult when he could resolve it with a straw hat?

Moreover, with the appearance of Louis Berry wearing a golden straw hat, the enemy wouldn’t think he was afraid of sunlight.

As his gaze casually shifted, Lumian spotted a girl.

She was a typical Northern Continent native, her black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, a few sparkling bows adorning her head. Her azure-tinged eyes accentuated her sharp, delicate nose. An unmistakable youthful aura radiated between her brows.

The girl wore a light, lace-trimmed, pleated white dress, but instead of high heels, she donned a pair of brown leather boots. As she conversed and laughed with companions, she danced, seemingly unconcerned about passersby’s opinions.

Lumian glanced at her again.

It wasn’t because she was beautiful. Although quite lovely, her appearance and bearing couldn’t compare to a Demoness or truly beautiful humans.

Lumian simply sensed her personality differed from Trier’s ladies.

In Trier, no matter how open-minded respectable middle and upper-class women were in private, they still publicly cared about image and others’ opinions—a product of their upbringing.

This girl exuded an air of freedom. She could laugh loudly or spin around whenever she pleased.

This was distinct from an improperly raised lower-class woman’s demeanor. This girl’s attire, speech and aura indicated good education and upbringing.

“Amandina, daughter of Palms Manor’s Sir Petit, and Monsieur Robert’s fiancée,” Camus, resembling a specter, materialized from nowhere beside Lumian with the introduction.

Palms Manor was a plantation near Tizamo Town.

A Southern Continent girl raised without Trier’s upper-

middle-class societal constraints… As Lumian judged this, he thought of his sister Aurore.

Sometimes, Aurore displayed such a side.

However, the reasons were clearly different.

“Where are you headed?” Camus inquired.

Lumian retracted his gaze and replied with a smile, “The cathedral.

“Are you coming with me to praise the Sun?”

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