Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability

699 Who is to Blame?
The smoke and dust caused by the meteorite had mostly dissipated, and the commotion on the street had gradually subsided. The injured had largely escaped danger thanks to swift treatment, but some still perished, eliciting occasional cries of anguish.

Inside Saint-Sien Cathedral, Padre Cali completed his penance. He stood and turned to face Lumian, who sat silently in the front pew, observing him.

Lumian chuckled and asked casually, “Is repentance still of any use?”

Without waiting for a response, he added habitually, “You must know your fate is sealed. You won’t survive more than a few days.”

Paleness showed through Padre Cali’s dark-brown complexion as he calmly replied, “If repentance worked, it wouldn’t be true repentance.”

This statement seemed to bring him a measure of peace.

“I repented because I wanted to, not to bargain for understanding or redemption. Looking back, I have indeed made many mistakes. I yearned for higher status and the approval of you Northerners. That desire blinded me, and I succumbed to the Demon’s temptations.”

Lumian scoffed upon hearing this.

“Is that truly the case? Did desire actually cloud your judgment?”

Noting the padre’s bewildered expression, Lumian leaned back and gazed up at the Sun Sacred Emblem.

“Did your ambition for prestige and recognition from Northerners force you to collaborate with Twanaku, compel you to become a Wraith as an Eternal Blazing Sun padre, make you receptive to the Demon’s allure, or drive you to exploit those boys? No, you chose this path of your own volition.”

Padre Cali’s lips quivered as if to object, but he couldn’t find the words.

Lumian smiled and continued, “Many in this world still crave elevated status and the recognition of certain groups. Most of them simply work hard to contribute and combat evil with all their strength. They never consort with Demons, hoping to attain their goals through righteous means. Even in the face of repeated failure, they don’t descend into the abyss.

“They share the same desires, yet they maintain self-control while you could not. Desire didn’t cloud your mind—your mind chose depravity.”

Padre Cali fell silent, at a loss for words.

Lumian sighed with a smile.

“A relative once told me, ‘Intense desire fuels human progress, but it’s also the demon that drags humans into the abyss. Good or bad, light or darkness—it all hinges on us, on that single thought in a pivotal moment.'”

His face growing ever paler, Padre Cali lowered his head and rasped, “I have sinned…”

Lumian pressed a hand to his chest, his expression settling.

He looked at Padre Cali and laughed self-deprecatingly.

“I too have strong desires. Everyone does. If harboring intense desire is a sin, then you are a sinner, and so am I. We are all guilty.”

Padre Cali’s expression froze momentarily before he slowly turned around.

Kneeling once more before the altar, he gazed up at the immense Sun Sacred Emblem and spoke in a deep voice, “You are innocent. Desire itself is not sinful, but I am a true sinner.”

He bowed his head as his body gradually became ethereal and transparent.

Thus, Padre Cali manifested as a Wraith before the Sacred Emblem.

An icy, sinister aura emanated from him, triggering a reaction from the emblem and altar.

The entire cathedral trembled slightly. A brilliant, sunlight-

like radiance seeped from the altar, emblem, stained glass, and religious murals, rapidly converging at the domed ceiling.

A dazzling golden pillar of light, accompanied by a hymnal voice, descended upon Padre Cali.

The Wraith-form padre trembled faintly but did not evade.

Under the searing holy light, his body disintegrated into ashes.

Lumian observed this scene expressionlessly, feeling neither joy nor sorrow.

As the dome’s holy glow dissipated, leaving only candlelight illuminating the cathedral, Lumian remained seated in the front pew, quietly contemplating the spot where Padre Cali had been purified.

After an indeterminate span, Camus and Rhea entered the cathedral, having finished their disaster relief efforts.

Camus sighed in relief upon seeing Louis Berry in the front row.

He smiled and said, “We still lack composure, prone to panic when calamity strikes. We were so focused on aiding the injured and trapped that we never anticipated a detestable man like Padre Cali suddenly going mad and trying to drag others down with him. It’s fortunate you were here.”
Rhea surveyed the surroundings and asked, “Where is Padre Cali?”

Lumian stared ahead at the altar and replied plainly, “After repenting, he utilized the cathedral’s accumulated spirituality and the Sacred Emblem’s unique properties to purify himself.”

Rhea fell silent. After a few seconds, she spread her arms and proclaimed, “Praise the Sun!”

She then took a seat in the front pew on the opposite side, clasped her hands, bowed her head, and prayed fervently.

For a moment, Camus was unsure whether to sit or remain standing.

Lumian turned to him. “Have you recovered Reaza’s Beyonder characteristic?”

Camus paused before responding, “Yes.”

“And Maslow’s?” Lumian shifted his gaze back to the Sacred Emblem.

“Its whereabouts are unknown,” Camus replied.

Lumian stated calmly, “It should be in the meteorite impact zone.”

Camus was taken aback. “Was the meteorite meant to claim most of the deceased? Is the Dream Festival’s power truly that immense?”

“More potent than you realize,” Lumian replied, as if discussing the next day’s weather. “Reaza and Maslow belong to the Numinous Episcopate’s Royal faction. Admiral Querarill is aware of their identities and that Reaza came to Tizamo to fulfill a mission assigned by the Royal faction’s superiors.”

Camus’s expression shifted as he exhaled slowly.

“Even without you mentioning this, I wouldn’t have harbored any ill will towards Captain Reaza. He did save me on multiple occasions, and this time, he didn’t overtly betray me but rather the patrol team. My sense of belonging to the team isn’t that strong.

“Now, I’m just relieved he’s not a traitor.”

Lumian smiled provocatively and said, “It benefits you as well. Port Pylos’s patrol team now has a vacant vice-captain position, and your rival is already dead.”

Camus didn’t rise to the bait, smiling wryly instead.

“I plan to leave Matani.

“Thanks to your generosity, I’ve nearly saved enough to advance to Sequence 6. It’s safer and simpler to return to my family and contact the main branch than to search the outside world.

“The patrol team is a small organization, after all. Sequence 6 is the limit. To reach Sequence 5, I’d need to forge close ties with the Numinous Episcopate, Rose School of Thought, Intis Bureau 8, the Eternal Blazing Sun Church, or the Church of Earth Mother, or become Admiral Querarill’s trusted aide. Given my Castiya surname, the choice is clear.”

If the Castiya royal family truly accepts you, your potential would be far greater… Lumian chuckled and said, “I thought you were leaving this place of sorrow due to a failed romance.”

Camus abruptly choked on his saliva and coughed several times.

After Rhea concluded her prayers, she departed the cathedral with Camus.

Lumian lingered in the front pew, savoring the solitude.

After a while, Amandina appeared at the entrance, clad in black hunting attire.

“Why are you alone here?” the girl muttered, her gaze darting about as if searching for something.

“Why have you come?” Lumian asked nonchalantly.

Amandina sat beside him and chuckled.

“I wanted to see if Robert would come looking for the dying Padre Cali, but surprisingly, you’re the only one here.”

“Padre Cali purified himself. I doubt Robert has been here,” Lumian answered truthfully.

“Is that so…” Amandina felt a pang of disappointment. “If he had really come to confront Padre Cali, it would mean he still is a man…”

Lumian remained silent.

Amandina faced the altar and Sacred Emblem, offering a brief prayer.

Her task complete, she glanced around eagerly and asked, “Will there be another Dream Festival next year?”

“Yes.” Lumian didn’t hide anything.

Joy instantly lit up Amandina’s features.

“Is that black ancient tomb still there? Can I gain superpowers by touching it again?”

“Of course,” Lumian turned to her, smiling. “But the outsiders participating in next year’s Dream Festival will be even stronger and more terrifying, surpassing the evil cloth doll, crystal skull, and human skin man you encountered.”

Amandina’s expression fell.

“Really? In that case, I’ll find an excuse to stay in Port Pylos during next year’s festival and bring my parents along.”

“Have you returned to Palm Manor?” Lumian inquired.

Amandina sighed and smiled.

“I went back briefly. Not wanting to disrupt their facade of love, I left again.”

She paused, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Besides touching the black tomb, are there other ways for me to advance my Sequence?”

“You can buy formulas and drink potions to progress along one of three paths—Sleepless, Corpse Collector, or Warrior,” Lumian divulged the relevant mystical knowledge without reservation. After some thought, he added, “Also, it wasn’t the black tomb that granted you superpowers. It was that figure…”

Lumian was suddenly perplexed.

What was the connection between Amandina, Robert, and the Underworld Daoist?

Typically, boons were bestowed upon believers by deities or angels, but Amandina and Robert had no faith in the Underworld Daoist. They weren’t even aware of His existence.

Considering the conventions of various secret organizations and the customs Franca occasionally mentioned, Amandina should have addressed the Underworld Daoist as “Teacher”!

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