150 Voice
When Lumian first gained the mysticism knowledge, he had placed high hopes on the Exorcism Spell. It appeared to be the perfect solution to deal with Susanna Mattise—provided she hadn’t been entirely wiped out by the official Beyonders.
But it was only upon truly grasping the Exorcism Spell did Lumian come to the sobering realization that his jubilation had been premature.
The ritualistic spell was capable of banishing wraiths and even evil spirits, preventing them from tormenting a soul. But it came with two caveats. First, he needed to know the specter’s real name and possess a personal item she’d held dear in life. Second, he needed ample time to conduct the ritual.
That second condition meant the Exorcism Spell was a no-go in the heat of battle. It was better suited for situations like Charlie’s, haunted by constant dreams of Susanna Mattise, plagued by wraiths or evil spirits, but not on the brink of death.
Lumian, however, hadn’t been physically hurt by Susanna Mattise, just targeted. The Exorcism Spell needed a victim, and without one, he couldn’t banish her.
When Susanna Mattise made her next move, Lumian knew she wouldn’t be playing nice. She’d leech his energy through erotic dreams, leading him slowly but surely towards his demise. Given her prior displays of venom and paranoia, she was sure to strike directly, unleashing her supernatural arsenal to kill on contact.
In such a scenario, Lumian wouldn’t have a chance to wield the Exorcism Spell unless someone could buy him a few minutes.
Should I turn to the official Beyonders for help? But that would expose me to the authorities, causing a world of trouble down the line…
Or perhaps Charlie could play the martyr, soothing Susanna Mattise with heartfelt words of love, buying time in the flesh? The longer he held out, the better Lumian’s odds of completing the Exorcism Spell… Heh heh, a bizarre thought that’s like underground literature, Lumian mused quietly.
Though the current mantra of the Intis Republic was ‘freedom,’ it was a far cry from true liberty.
On the one hand, they wanted to quash the nostalgia of Roselle’s followers and the Carbonari’s revolutionary impulses. Opposition threatened the ruling party’s authority. On the other hand, they faced the traditionalist Church of the God of Steam and Machinery and the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun. The Intis Republic’s censorship of publications was heavy-handed.
They’d even plant spies or groom authors as double agents to keep an eye on influential content creators, ensuring they didn’t tarnish the ruling party’s image or produce content deemed too explicit or blasphemous for the wider readership.
But with every prohibition came violations. Trier spawned a thriving underground literary scene that reached beyond its borders.
Aurore once, driven by curiosity, bought a few such books. She forbade her brother from reading them and tucked them away in the bookcase’s darkest corner. But prohibition bred violation. Lumian had snuck a peek at one and was taken aback.
The book was a critique of the clergy’s indulgence and corruption, peppered with erotic content. It was titled ‘Monks Chasing Dogs.’
Lumian’s plan to use Charlie as bait for Susanna Mattise had a certain subversive literature charm to it.
Then again, I don’t have any of Susanna Mattise’s personal items to use as a conduit. I could try to hunt down something in the coming days. Regardless of whether it ends up being useful, it’s better to be prepared than caught unawares… Lumian shook off his reverie, considering the potential of the other four ritualistic spells and their relevance to him.
To Lumian, the Animal Creation Spell seemed mystical, malevolent, uncanny, and downright horrifying.
If utilized right, it could work wonders. Imagine turning captives into sheep, cows, horses, and just walking away with them. Or infiltrating places no human could, in the form of a critter. But in the thick of a fight, this ritualistic spell was pretty much a dud.
According to the mysticism wisdom bestowed upon Lumian, the invocation for the Animal Creation Spell could be made to the hidden existence known as Inevitability, a host of honorific names unknown to him, or even himself.
Naturally, the prerequisite was ample spirituality and the corresponding rank. Also, the ritual’s success rate and the spell’s longevity were significantly lower than the previous methods.
The minimum requirement for the Animal Creation Spell was a Sequence 7 Contractee. The higher the rank, the better the chances of the spell working, and the more potent the effect.
With the corruption sealed within him, Lumian wasn’t concerned about his rank. He was unsure, though, if his spirituality reserves could endure the consumption of the Animal Creation Spell. If they could, how many times could he bear it?
This led Lumian to speculate that these five ritualistic spells could be simplified at higher ranks and deployed in real combat. For instance, he could simply drape an enemy in sheepskin, chant the preordained incantation, and transform them into sheep.
That doesn’t seem plausible for a Contractee, equivalent to a Sequence 7. A Sequence 4 Circle Inhabitant is too lofty for such a rudimentary spell… Could a Sequence 5 Fate Appropriator accommodate such a simplification, or is it a Sequence 6, the name of which escapes me? Lumian mused subconsciously.
As for the Luck Enhancement Spell, he felt it could only “assist” others at present, not himself. His destiny was deeply entwined with the corruption sealed within him and the great existence behind the seal. Unless he prayed directly to the power of Inevitability, altering his luck was a non-starter. Only when he ascended to the Fate Appropriator rank could he choose a fate unbound by those lofty beings.
The Substitution Spell was just too convoluted, and it would severely disrupt Lumian’s routine and other tasks. He wouldn’t consider it unless he was out of options.
Compared to that, the Prophecy Spell seemed like a piece of cake and rather handy as ritualistic magic went.
Lumian had already decided to gather the necessary intel and find a suitable corpse. By inquiring about Charlie’s future, he could estimate when Susanna Mattise would strike next and locate Madame Pualis and the others by delving into Louis Lund’s destiny.
Dog’s drool, lynx innards, hyena tongue, stag bone marrow, sea or aquatic monster flesh, lizard eye, rock from an eagle’s nest, snake venom gland, and deadly herbs. These ingredients aren’t all that hard to come by. The only pain is the sea or aquatic monster flesh, but the ritual doesn’t specify a rank. Technically, the feeblest aquatic monster still counts as an aquatic monster; it just impacts the effect, right? Lumian ruminated for a bit, noticing that his energy levels had considerably rebounded. He readied himself to leave the subterranean quarry cave and head back to Auberge du Coq Doré.
Just as he rose to his feet, a sudden furrow creased his brow.
A faint sound reached his ears.
The voice echoed inside his ears!
Lumian fought to steady his nerves, straining to discern the sound.
With each passing moment, the voice grew clearer, more potent, more imposing.
“Lumian Lee!
“Lumian Lee!
“…”
It knows my name? Instinctively, Lumian swept the area with his carbide lamp, yet found no figure, nothing out of the ordinary.
“Lumian Lee!
“Lumian Lee!
“…”
The voice reverberated as if it were emanating from the very core of his being, muffled by his flesh, organs, and bones, creating overlapping echoes.
Inside my body… The thought struck Lumian the moment he made this realization.
In a hushed whisper, he asked, “Who are you?”
The deep, majestic, and spectral voice ceased its chant and solemnly declared, “I’m the Angel of the Lord, Termiboros.”
“Lord? Which lord?” Lumian’s eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk.
He suspected the entity communicating was the corruption entombed within him. After receiving the Alms Monk’s blessing and nearing the entity of Inevitability, it had managed to transmit a voice devoid of corruption via their intertwined powers.
The spectral voice echoing in Lumian’s ears intoned reverently, “The Lord is the ruler of the Great Old Ones, the Essence Above the Sequences, the mighty Circle of Inevitability…”
Merely contemplating these words sent an inexplicable shiver down Lumian’s spine. It felt as if a gaze had pierced the cosmos, the clouds, the surface-level Trier, layers of earth, and was fixed upon him.
Suddenly, Lumian found himself glancing over his shoulder, as if unseen entities were scrutinizing him from the enveloping darkness.
The sensation sent chills down his spine, sowing unease in his mind, threatening to unhinge him.
Out of nowhere, a faint gray fog materialized and shrouded the surroundings, significantly pacifying Lumian’s agitated mind.
He sneered at the self-proclaimed Angel, Termiboros.
“So, you’re the one sealed within me?”
I wonder if it’s a bona fide Angel with Beyonder characteristics or just an Angel-tier servant boasting only a boon…
This insolence seemed to digest Lumian’s potion further along its course.
Undeterred by Lumian’s provocation, Termiboros continued solemnly, “Follow my instructions, break my seal, and I will aid you in resurrecting Aurore Lee.
“You should be well aware that my Lord’s power spans the past, the present, and the future. It can weave a cycle of destiny.
“In due time, I will restore Aurore Lee’s soul fragment to its state prior to the descent ritual. All you need to do is prepare a body with the essence of life for her.”
Lumian fell silent. After a moment, he asked in a low voice, “Descent ritual… Is that the ritual to forge a body for your descent?”