520 Demon Warlock
Trier, Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative, 9 Rue Orosai, Apartment 702.
Franca awoke naturally, rising lazily from her bed. Her plans were simple—grabbing a piece of toast, anticipating a heavy lunch.
Lately, the absence of Mirror People leads had made her days relaxed.
Thank the Heavens, thank the Earth, thank Mr. Fool. Lumian, the jinx, has left Trier… Franca muttered in her pre-meal prayer.
As she sipped her milk, Jenna returned and pointed to the coffee table.
“Rabbit Chasel delivered a letter this morning. It’s from Lumian.”
“Letter?” Franca’s eyes narrowed as her relaxed body tensed.
The source of Dardel’s Derangement was still at large. What had happened this time?
“He mentioned an incident in the capital of the Fog Sea Archipelago. He wishes to gather details and hopes you can inquire with your contact among the authorities. I refrained from waking you since you only reach out to that contact late at night, so I opted to read the letter immediately. It seems you can only make inquiries during the night,” Jenna explained concisely.
“How considerate. Lumian, that rascal, would undoubtedly knock on the door and jolt me awake!” Franca, who had experienced Lumian’s disruptive wake-
up calls countless times, felt unusually touched.
She chuckled.
“Did something happen to Port Farim once he arrived? Even though it seems unrelated to him, but…”
Franca leaned back slightly and remarked, “What’s up with the walking mysticism catastrophe detector?”
Since it wasn’t urgent, she planned to ask about 007 in the telegram group later at night. After all, he was an official Beyonder of Trier. It was unlikely he would have immediate information about the events in the Fog Sea Archipelago’s capital. If she didn’t initiate the inquiry, he might remain unaware.
Franca, with her penchant for instant messaging, set down the bottle of milk and wrote Lumian a teasing reply.
“If you want to know what’s happening, investigate it yourself. A walking mysticism catastrophe detector like yourself doesn’t need clues or information. Stroll through the streets of Port Farim aimlessly, and who knows, you might bump into the person involved!
“Hey, let’s not turn letter-writing into work-related communication, using it only to discuss issues or ask for help. Can’t you share the interesting sea tales and details of pirates’ bounties?
“Heh heh, ever since you left Trier, everything’s been calm and quiet. I can enjoy sleeping in again. Enjoy your sweet revenge. No need to rush back. Give us a heads up if you need assistance…”
Jenna observed Franca thoughtfully as she gleefully filled nearly two pages of the letter.
…
Inside Room 5 of the Flying Bird’s first-class cabin in Port Farim, Lumian, confined to his quarters, sneered as he finished reading Franca’s reply.
How many complaints has this fellow received from 007? She’s blaming me for the frequent mysticism catastrophes.
Folding the letter, he brought it to Ludwig’s lips.
The boy, who had just finished dessert, looked at Lumian and remarked, “I’m not a shredder.”
“I thought you eat everything,” Lumian replied casually as he lit the letter, watching it turn to ashes in the sea breeze blowing through the window.
Shortly after lunch, Philip knocked on the door, accompanied by four soldiers in blue military uniforms adorned with golden threads.
The officer, holding copies of Lumian and the others’ identification documents, compared their faces to black-and-white photos.
“Like you, they came from Port Gati and only arrived last night?” the officer inquired, having confirmed Philip’s reliability.
“Yes, I watched them board the ship. We met frequently in the past two days,” Philip replied, wisely choosing not to expose the fact that Lumian and the others’ identities and information were fake.
Very wise… Otherwise, you’ll witness true trouble… Lumian joked inwardly.
If his disguise were to be exposed, he would choose to “teleport” away with Lugano and Ludwig rather than make a scene and reveal the adventurer Louis Berry to the world. Lumian’s only devotion to Gehrman Sparrow, ready to hunt pirates when the opportunity arose. In truth, Lumian had no intention of becoming a true adventurer. His purpose for venturing out to sea was revenge!
After confirming Lumian and the others’ situation, the officer led the soldiers to the next room, with Philip accompanying them.
Lumian observed that the investigation of the Flying Bird was thorough, yet not overly intense. The officers followed procedures meticulously without delving into further inquiries.
It made sense. The explosion in Quartier des Black Pearls and the abnormality of the corpses couldn’t have occurred overnight. Even if it was an accident, it had been brewing for a while. The extensive impact suggested a prolonged development. Unless the person involved was a demigod, it was nearly impossible for ordinary authorities to trace any demigod-related traces.
This meant the Flying Bird, having arrived in Port Farim only the previous night, likely had no connection to the incident. The focus was on confirming the passengers’ identities.
The possibility of a demigod being injured and unable to escape Port Farim was considered, warranting a comprehensive investigation, but there were no suspicious casualties on the Flying Bird.
The officers disembarked after nearly two hours, accompanied by 20 to 30 soldiers. Lumian, now on the deck, approached Philip and inquired, “What happened last night?”
Philip glanced around and lowered his voice.
“I heard from my former colleague that they’re searching for Demon Warlock Burman.”
“Burman?” Lumian expressed his ignorance.
Having only read a portion of the wanted posters the previous night, Lumian was not familiar with Demon Warlock Burman. His attention had been on maritime kings, pirate admirals, and other significant pirates. Then, he had shared a drink with Batna Comté.
“He’s a wanted adventurer,” Philip explained with a sigh. “Before I left the Fog Sea fleet, he was still normal. He chased bounties and treasures and met his wife, Helen, a female adventurer. Later, Helen died in an accident, causing Burman to go crazy. He wanted to revive his wife and did many things—both good and bad attempts.
“He mercilessly orchestrated the destruction of a 300-person town to fulfill the conditions for a resurrection ritual. He organized gatherings of evil Warlocks, aiming to use the lives of others, especially newborns, for cruel and bloody witchcraft to revive Helen. These events pushed his bounty to surpass Bone Splitter Basil, reaching 600,000 verl d’or.”
In his quest to resurrect his wife, he was driven to become a cruel and cold Demon Warlock? Lumian suddenly sighed.
If Madam Magician hadn’t found him back then, if Mr. Fool hadn’t offered a glimmer of hope, and if the Tarot Club hadn’t arranged for two formidable Psychiatrists to provide treatment, would he now resemble Burman and carry a Demon-prefixed moniker?
Moreover, simply treading the path of boons would expedite his growth. With Termiboros’s aid, he could reach Sequence 5 Fate Appropriator within a few months. The obliteration of a 300-person town held the potential to elevate him to a Circle Inhabitant.
“600,000 verl d’or is nearly on par with Vice Admiral Black Tide Holle Sassen, who has the lowest bounty among pirate admirals,” Lumian remarked, drawing a comparison.
Vice Admiral Black Tide was a great pirate who had only gained fame in recent years. His bounty was 700,000 verl d’or.
Philip fell silent for a moment before adding, “Burman might not be weaker than Holle Sassen, but he doesn’t have his own fleet. He’s always alone and occasionally collaborates with those evil Warlocks. This allows him to escape authorities’ encirclements and successfully infiltrate towns adorned with his wanted posters.”
From Philip’s description, Lumian gathered that Demon Warlock Burman possessed diverse abilities, excelling at disguises.
With the elegance of a true Warlock, Burman combined it with mastery over the power of the dead, whether acquired through resurrection research or inherent in his original Sequence’s contradictory description of both “comprehensive” and “specialty skills.”
…
The port blockade left the Flying Bird stranded in Farim, delayed from its scheduled departure.
At 4 p.m., Lumian found himself with nothing to do. Sporting his new golden straw hat, he disembarked from the ship, where passengers and sailors could now freely move. Once more, he stepped into Port Farim.
He planned to investigate the scene of last night’s explosion. Perhaps he could unearth some clues.
What lay in ruins was a hospital. Nearly half of it crumbled, unveiling a massive pit leading underground. Corpses littered the remaining structures, amidst fresh blood and humanoid shadows charred by the blast.
With the ban lifted, numerous adventurers flocked to the site, seeking answers. Lumian blended into the crowd, discreetly observing.
“Louis, you’re here too?” Suddenly, Lumian recognized a familiar voice.
It was Batna Comté, armed with a substantial revolver and an exquisite rapier. Meticulously groomed, he looked sharp and sophisticated.
“That’s right,” Lumian replied with a smile. “As an adventurer, how can I miss the grand occasion of pursuing the Demon Warlock?”
Our main goal is to gather clues for a reward… Batna muttered under his breath.
As he investigated the battle remnants for leads, he casually inquired, “Did you come across those resurrected corpses last night?”
“I did. Besides being a bit eerie, there’s nothing noteworthy about them,” Lumian boasted.
Batna glanced at him and suddenly smiled.
“Anything unusual happened to you after leaving the bar last night?”
Lumian replied nonchalantly, “I ran into a few swindlers and walked away with a small fortune.”
A small fortune… Batna was taken aback.
He suddenly recalled Louis Berry’s actions at the bar and his words: “Perhaps they think I’m an easy target?