Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability

Chapter 628 - 628 Terrifying Dream

628 Terrifying Dream

Lumian vaguely noticed bubbles emerging from the pitch-black liquid enveloping most of the blood-colored Demon’s body. The brownish-green hue of the bubbles resembled tree warts.

In an instant, the bubbles burst, reflecting brilliant colors as they merged with the pitch-black liquid.

For some reason, Lumian sensed that something was wrong. He wished to shut his eyes and avoid these details, but trapped in a dream, he had no control.

In the depths of the pitch-black liquid, a figure lurked. It raised its head slightly, gazing at the blood-colored Demon.

Moist brownish-green or light brown tree warts protruded from the figure’s body, reminding Lumian of Susanna Mattise in her Fallen Tree Spirit state.

The distinction lay in Susanna Mattise’s tree warts, branches, and flower buds growing from her body, melding with her original form. The figure’s tree warts, however, seemed to pierce out flamboyantly from the flesh and internal organs, tainted with blood.

In his dream, Lumian instinctively raised his right hand, wiping the corners of his eyes. The back of his hand was stained red.

At some point, blood had flowed from his eyes, turning his vision a blurry red.

The figure’s overall outline appeared in the blur.

As if grown on a brownish-green tree, pierced by branches, overrun by tree warts, and covered in flower buds, dripping with a viscous liquid.

A burning sensation engulfed Lumian’s chest, prompting him to instinctively close his eyes in the dream.

Yet, he was a step too slow.

Bang!

Lumian’s eyes exploded, flooding his mind with searing pain.

He jolted awake, curling up in agony. His hands instinctively reached for his eyes, encountering a flat, sticky, and moist substance. The scent of blood hung heavily in the air.

As an Ascetic accustomed to severe injuries, Lumian took several minutes to overcome the pain that threatened to render him unconscious.

Struggling to sit up, he opened his eyes, only to be met with absolute darkness.

No crimson moonlight, no outlines of furniture in the bedroom–he couldn’t see a thing.

Lumian raised his hand once more, gently touching his eye sockets. Both eyeballs had deflated, shattered beyond repair.

Is it because I glimpsed something I shouldn’t have? Lumian chuckled in self-deprecation.

It was a vision from a dream, something he never wished to witness.

Upon reflection, he realized that if Mr. Fool’s seal hadn’t triggered or Termiboros hadn’t activated it, his eyes might not have been the only casualties.

Wiping the tip of his nose, Lumian felt moistness and caught the unmistakable scent of rust.

In a surprisingly good mood, he quipped, “Luckily, it seems what’s flowing down is blood, not brain matter.”

He rejoiced in surviving the ordeal.

Despite the tragic state of his head, Lumian’s body remained relatively unharmed, albeit a bit drained.

Gripping the edge of the bed, Lumian pulled himself up. In a state of blindness and impaired smell, he relied on the Hunter’s instinct, navigating through his turf with a mental map. Bypassing furniture, he reached the living room and knocked on the servant’s door.

“Yes, what’s the matter?” Startled, Lugano hastily opened the door, dressed in a cotton shirt and underpants that served as makeshift pajamas, fearing a repeat of the terrifying encounter with Father Montserrat.

Under the crimson moonlight, he saw Lumian’s blood-streaked face and empty blood-red eyes filled with shattered fragments.

“Wh-what happened?” Lugano stammered, bewildered.

Who had beaten his employer to such a state?

Who could inflict such harm upon his employer?

Why not teleport away from this perilous situation?

Lumian calmly pointed at his eyes.

“Treat them.”

“Alright,” Lugano responded subconsciously, then added awkwardly, “With the eyeballs in such a state, there’s no way of treatment. We can only find a suitable transplant.”

Lumian, enduring the pain, calmly stated, “No need. Just stop the bleeding and ease the pain.”

“Alright.” Lugano didn’t dare argue, following his employer’s instructions. He extended his shimmering left palm.

Upon contact and a simple use of a scalpel, Lumian felt a refreshing sensation in his eyes. The pain became more bearable, though his vision remained absent.

“You can go back to sleep,” Lumian waved dismissively, as if his loss of vision was inconsequential. With one hand in his pocket, he strolled past the Dutanese textbook on the carpet, settled into a recliner, and rocked it gently.

Lugano watched in confusion and anxiety for a while before attempting to return to bed, unable to fall asleep.

When the morning sun bathed the sea’s edge, the Doctor abruptly rose from his bed, deciding to grab a cup of coffee for a pick-me-up.

Upon leaving the room, he witnessed his employer in motion. Lumian’s green eyes sparkled, showing no signs of injury.

“Y-you’re alright?” Lugano was bewildered.

Lumian responded with a radiant smile, “That’s right.”

“…” Lugano was momentarily speechless.

How did my employer regenerate his eyeballs?

What kind of monster is this…

Is my role as his doctor merely to stop the bleeding and relieve the pain?

Lumian paid no heed to the servant’s psychological turmoil. He returned to the master bedroom, drew back the curtains, laid out the paper, and picked up a dark-black fountain pen.

I’m still not cautious enough… He sighed suddenly.

After heeding the ice-blue-eyed Demons’ warning and preparing to depart Hanth Island with the Berries, Lumian refrained from promptly writing to Madam Magician. He intended to observe the aftermath and wait until they were safely away from the port.

Unexpectedly, he had experienced such a terrifying and dangerous dream last night!

Initially suspecting that a Demon with ice-blue eyes had lost control and covertly influenced him, Lumian later speculated that he might have been subtly corrupted when he observed the blood-colored Demon and the pitch-black liquid through the Mystery Prying Glasses. The corruption lay dormant until he slept, manifesting fully in his dream.

Focusing his thoughts, he detailed everything witnessed and heard on Hanth Island. He replaced the name Naboredisley with the term Love Incantation.

Concluding the letter, Lumian wrote sincerely, “Perhaps I’ve encountered too many Demons recently. I feel like I’ve accumulated too much corruption and want to undergo treatment.”

Following that, Lumian conducted a ritual, summoning the doll messenger, and handed over the folded letter.

Accepting the letter with its right hand, the doll messenger covered its nose with its left palm and exclaimed, “You stepped on the world’s stinkiest thing!

“It stinks! It stinks!

“So dirty, so dirty!”

Swiftly grasping the letter between two fingers, the doll messenger vanished from the room.

Lumian waited briefly, but with no immediate response from Madam Magician, he decided to seek “treatment” elsewhere.

His destination was the cathedral of the Church of Earth Mother in Port Hanth, where he had visited the day before.

In the early morning, before the commencement of work, numerous believers gathered to listen to the preaching.

The preacher, the ice-blue-eyed clergyman from yesterday, expounded on a specific doctrine from the Holy Scripture. The concept that good and evil emanated from the same source, making them inseparable, was discussed. The sermon emphasized promoting good and suppressing evil.

Isn’t it a little ironic to have this coming from a Demon like you? Lumian criticized and sat in the first row, listening casually.

He soon sensed the cathedral’s vibrant vitality. Vegetation flourished, and mushrooms quietly sprouted. The scent of wheat and milk provided a calming atmosphere.

Unconsciously, Lumian realized that his life had gained intensity.

Each of the orthodox Churches has its own merits… he sighed silently.

After five to six minutes, the ice-blue-eyed clergyman concluded his preaching and approached Lumian with a warm smile.

“Young people who are willing to listen to advice always have a bright future.

“Praise the Earth, praise the Mother of All Things!”

Lumian observed the ice-blue-eyed clergyman retracting his raised hands. Is he hinting that it’s “satisfied” that I stopped inquiring, exploring the forest, and searching for someone with ice-blue eyes since noon yesterday? Lumian considered, then looked at the clergyman before speaking.

“However, I had a terrifying dream last night and nearly died from it.”

“What dream?” the ice-blue-eyed clergyman inquired warmly.

“Bishop, how should I address you?” Lumian asked, deferring from providing an immediate answer.

“Newman,” the ice-blue-eyed clergyman announced its name in human society.

Lumian briefly recounted the blood-colored Demon in his dream, the pitch-black liquid, the blurry figure, and the branches and tree warts. He didn’t delve into the final injuries he had suffered.

Bishop Newman listened quietly, gazing at Lumian for a few seconds.

“Are you willing to listen to my preaching?”

“Sure,” Lumian agreed, curious about what the Ice-blue-eyed Demon had to say.

Newman flipped open the Holy Bible in his arms and spoke in a magnetic voice, “There are two Abysses. One is material, and the entrance is somewhere in the real world. The other is spiritual, and the entrance is deep in everyone’s hearts.

“Sometimes, these two Abysses are separated, but most of the time, they’re one.

“Good intentions and evil intentions come from the same source. It’s inevitable for us to harbor evil thoughts like jealousy, hatred, destruction, greed, harm, and arrogance. This is normal, not sinful.

“However, if we act on jealousy, hatred, greed, and arrogance, killing someone—our souls will gradually sink into the Abyss.

“When the time comes, one can only repent to the Mother, just like this.

“Merciful Mother, I have fallen into the Abyss of evil…”

Lumian listened quietly, grasping the essence of Bishop Newman’s words.

He acknowledged his mistake rooted in arrogance.

His earlier ventures, marked by a proactive approach and a lack of major problems, had led him to underestimate the concealed perils of high-level matters.

Standing up, Lumian raised his hands.

“I understand. Praise the Earth, praise the Mother of All Things!”

Newman nodded in satisfaction.

Returning to the Berries, Lumian read the reply, neatly folded into a square.

The letter contained spirit world coordinates and a concise directive: “Put an end to the matter on Hanth Island. Find time to seek treatment here.”