73 Tracking
Lumian’s eyes snapped open, his aches gone and his spirituality restored.
He sprang up, strode to the window, and yanked the curtains aside.
Dawn had yet to break. The blood-red moon sank in the west while stars speckled the sky. On a nearby elm, the large owl with piercing eyes reappeared, gazing down at Lumian.
Instead of alarm or anger, Lumian flashed a dazzling smile.
“You’re back,” he said, almost too eagerly. His mannerisms, his tone, even his facial expression—it all made the target want to punch him.
The owl stared for a few seconds before spreading its wings and vanishing into the darkness.
Almost simultaneously, Aurore emerged from her bedroom, turned the handle, and entered Lumian’s room.
“How’d it go?” Lumian asked immediately.
Aurore nodded.
“White Paper is on it.”
Her once light-blue eyes had darkened, and the trees in them grew larger as they receded.
She produced a mercury-plated mirror and set it on Lumian’s table. Using pale-white powder, she cast a spell that showed him what she was seeing.
Lumian glimpsed the owl’s silhouette. It circled Cordu at a low altitude, as if trying to shake off any pursuers. But White Paper, a creature from the spirit world, was swift and unfazed, maintaining a constant distance.
After a minute or two, the owl reached the village square.
Without hesitation, it dove into the cemetery beside the cathedral.
Why is it here again? Lumian sighed inwardly.
The last time the siblings spied on Michel Garrigue, the “lizard” that crawled from the deputy padre’s mouth also wound up in the cemetery, slipping in and out of various graves!
Lumian glanced at his sister. “You don’t think it’s like in stories, where the cemetery doubles as a villain’s lair or hideout, do you?”
Aurore scoffed. “You know life inspires art, right?”
“I suppose…” Lumian conceded, accepting the professional author’s explanation.
At that moment, the owl landed on an unremarkable grave.
Like most graves in Intis, it featured a deep pit filled with a coffin and covered with soil. One or two stone slabs lay atop it, and a tombstone marked its head.
This was Lumian’s guess, at least; from the outside, the grave seemed ordinary.
The owl settled on the slabs sealing the grave.
With White Paper’s aid, Aurore and Lumian uncovered suspicious traces.
The tombstone was blank. The stone slab, which should have been dirty and overgrown, was clean, as if regularly tended.
“Something’s off about this grave,” Aurore remarked.
As she spoke, the slabs sealing the grave fell.
No, not fell—opened.
Inward, like a door, revealing darkness and stone stairs descending deeper.
“Wow,” Lumian marveled. “It’s huge!”
Not the average grave he’d pictured, but more like a spacious mausoleum.
Cordu has such a place… Aurore had thought six years in town taught her everything about Cordu, but it was growing stranger by the day.
As the siblings talked, the owl swooped into the depths of the mausoleum.
The underground space was no exaggeration. As White Paper followed, it entered a tomb chamber.
About the size of Lumian’s kitchen, the chamber held a black coffin at its center.
The coffin wasn’t closed. The lid leaned against the side, resting on the ground.
The owl flew over and perched on the coffin’s edge.
“The dead Warlock?” Lumian tensed.
Aurore tersely agreed and instructed White Paper to approach the coffin and peer inside.
Almost simultaneously, Lumian spotted a figure lurking in a corner of the tomb.
Before he could tell his sister to check it out, White Paper’s gaze fell into the open coffin.
With a bang, the mercury mirror before them shattered, and Aurore let out a pained, muffled cry.
Lumian spun to face his sister, only to find her eyes squeezed shut. Blood-streaked tears traced her cheeks, and her facial muscles spasmed as if they might split.
Without waiting for the semi-illiterate mysticism student to react, Aurore retrieved a short incense stick from a hidden pocket and lit it with a match.
A subtle scent wafted, distant and faint, soothing the body and mind.
Aurore’s facial distortion eased. Finally, she exhaled and wiped her tears with a handkerchief.
“Are you okay?” Lumian asked, concerned.
Aurore’s eyes remained closed.
“It’s not serious. I’ll recover after some sleep. Luckily, White Paper is weak. Sometimes, weakness is an advantage!”
She rejoiced.
“Huh?” Lumian didn’t understand.
Aurore laughed at herself.
“In short, I saw something I shouldn’t have, but White Paper was too weak to handle it. It caught only a fleeting glimpse before suffering severe injuries that forced it to retreat into the spirit world. The impact on me lessened significantly as well. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been so easy to keep things under control. It could have been quite problematic.”
...
The world of mysticism is perilous… Lumian truly grasped the meaning of not seeing what one shouldn’t.
He waited for his sister to recover slightly before asking, “What did White Paper see? Why was it so harmful?”
“I saw a silver-black speck of light.” Aurore didn’t dare to remember. “As for things that can cause damage just by looking at them, there are countless possibilities. Perhaps it’s an object that reveals godhood, or a High-Sequence Beyonder’s Mythical Creature form, or something laden with curses and malice…”
“Mythical Creature form?” Lumian had never encountered this term before.
Aurore casually elucidated, “The essence of the divine pathway is to transform Beyonders into deities. At Sequence 4, we can assume our own Mythical Creature form, albeit incomplete. For those below Sequence 4, merely witnessing this form can inflict harm. They might even lose control.”
Saints are that formidable? They’re worlds apart from Beyonders below Sequence 4… No wonder they’re deemed demigods at Sequence 4… Lumian instantly recognized his own ignorance. He had naively believed that the demigod title was basically no different from lower-ranked Beyonders.
He then said, “Aurore, when White Paper neared the coffin, I think I saw a figure in a corner of the tomb, but I couldn’t make out who it was, what they looked like, or what they wore.”
“Another person was there?” Aurore was taken aback.
Lumian nodded.
“So, is the one inside the coffin the deceased Warlock or the one in the corner?”
“I think it’s the one in the coffin.” Aurore, eyes still closed, pondered before continuing, “The one in the corner is either his puppet or subordinate, or another Beyonder. They control the Warlock’s corpse.”
...
Lumian tersely acknowledged her words.
“This means the Warlock issue hasn’t been fully resolved. Perhaps this is the root cause slowly corrupting Cordu.”
This discovery left him both elated and frustrated.
He was pleased that their investigation had advanced significantly, but disheartened that merely glimpsing the Warlock’s corpse could injure them. Losing control was a high probability. How could they return to the tomb for further confirmation and pursue additional actions?
Aurore also considered this.
“Let’s not visit the tomb for now. We’ll concentrate on the area beneath the cathedral. Maybe we can uncover vital clues there to help us resolve the tomb situation.”
“Alright.” Lumian had previously planned to discuss exploring the cathedral’s underground with the three foreigners at dawn.
In response, Aurore added, “If I fully recover, I’ll accompany you to the cathedral.”
Lumian hesitated for two seconds before consenting.
At this point, they needed to marshal all their strength to find hope!
With her eyes still closed, Aurore asked, “Your ritual appears to have succeeded. How do you feel?”
Lumian recounted the entire ritual process and his gains, but omitted the precise description of the being.
“I nearly lost control when I received the boon. It stabilized afterward, and my body underwent no abnormal changes. Perhaps it’s because my Sequence is low enough.”
Aurore smiled, eyes still closed.
“The dance that summons abnormal creatures around and allows one to be possessed by them is quite intriguing.
“It reminds me of a legendary ability from our homeland, the Spiritual Boxer!”
“Huh?” Lumian couldn’t comprehend.
Aurore laughed and replied, “It entails requesting partial possession from demigod-level creatures to utilize their combat prowess.”
“That would require an incredibly robust body, soul, and mind, right?” Lumian speculated.
Aurore didn’t pursue the topic further and instructed her brother, “Help me back to my room. I need to rest.”
As Lumian assisted his sister and they walked to her bedroom, he casually inquired, “What I find odd about that ritual is that I extracted a bit of power from the seal without the bluish-black symbol’s owner’s consent. Could it be that He has been watching me the entire time? That’s impossible. How could He have that much free time?”
Aurore mulled it over for a moment before responding, “You mentioned that the mysterious woman’s description of the honorific name was vague and inaccurate to avoid drawing the attention of the corresponding being.
“Could it be that the black thorns and the bluish-black symbol have some sort of shared authority?” Lumian pondered aloud. “Maybe They both have power in the Fate domain. And when you use a vague honorific name, it could refer not only to the person with the black thorns, but also the owner of the bluish-black symbol.
“Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t matter much, but because you have the corresponding symbols and power on the altar, they reacted to the stimulation and the existence discovered your actions. And since you were guided by the mysterious lady, it was easy for you to obtain permission.
“So when you finish reciting all the honorific names and point to the corruption in your body, there won’t be any obstacles in extracting some strength. The ‘back door’ has already been opened.”
“What an ingenious ritual design… It has to be an expert at exploiting bugs.”
“I see,” Lumian said, finally understanding the situation.