As the charred and decrepit wooden door creaked open slowly, Lumian felt a shiver down his spine, like ice water trickling over his scalp.
Wasn't it impossible to open the door?
Was my guess wrong?
If it could open the door, why did it take so long and talk so much?
Just get on with it! Is there something wrong with its brain?
Although Lumian had become a Pyromaniac and had experienced various dangerous situations, his heart couldn't help but race at this moment. It felt like a steam locomotive hurtling on tracks and pillowwood. If he weren't worried about Gardner Martin or other members of the Iron and Blood Cross Order lurking nearby, he would have set up an altar then and there, summoning Madam Magician's messenger or praying to Mr. Fool.
Instinctively, Lumian prepared to summon Fire Raven and create a cloak, readying himself for a battle. But Termiboros's warning echoed in his mind once more: Don't respond.
This was entirely different from just not opening the door! Lumian couldn't shake the feeling that something fishy was going on. Why would the creature knock on the door, threaten him, and then open it itself? So, he restrained himself, staying silent and staring at the door like a statue.
The charred wooden door continued to swing open, and the dark gap gradually widened, enough for one person to pass through. But there was nothing outside the door. The room, far from the window, was engulfed in darkness. The crimson moonlight seeping through the broken glass barely revealed any outlines.
Where was the fellow that knocked on the door? Lumian's first instinct was to activate his Spirit Vision to see if there was an invisible monster. But he held back, afraid that it would count as a response.
The wobbly door came to a halt, and nothing emerged from the darkness outside. No wriggling shapes, just silence. Lumian remained motionless in his sitting position, gazing in that direction. This whole situation was incredibly bizarre. He couldn't even target an enemy if he wanted to set them on fire.
Silence took over, and time seemed to stand still. Then suddenly, a drop of liquid fell from the ceiling, landing in front of Lumian. His eyelids twitched, and under the crimson moonlight, he saw that it was bright red, resembling blood.
Drip. Drip. Blood dripped, gradually staining a large area red.
Lumian couldn't shake the unease that crept over him.
Drip!
Another droplet landed on Lumian's right cheek. It was cold, sticky, and silky. It didn't seem like human blood, but it wasn't tainted by darkness either. The pungent smell of blood filled Lumian's nostrils, making him want to roll to the side, stand up, and leap out of the window instinctively.
Don't respond. He recalled Termiboros's words once again.
Lumian took a deep breath, allowing the viscous liquid that smelled like blood to hit his face and head. Gradually, he felt his body grow heavier. He quickly examined his exposed hands.Cold, viscous blood dripped onto his hands, silently merging into one, as if encasing him in a blood-colored glove.
Lumian began to suspect that he was trapped in a mucous blood membrane, making him feel heavier and heavier. Instinctively, he thought about reaching into his pocket to pull out Mr. K's finger. He wanted the Aurora Order Oracle, skilled in blood-related spells, to help him resist this strange mucous blood membrane.
"Don't respond." This time, the Inevitability angel's powerful voice echoed in Lumian's mind, instead of him reminding himself of Termiboros's earlier warning.
Lumian managed to regain control of himself, but he could feel his body growing heavier, and his breathing became labored. Slowly, the strange blood began to seep into his skin, as if it had a life of its own, determined to enter his body and consume him from the inside out.
As the blood infiltrated him, his thoughts grew hazy, and a surge of violent tendencies flooded his mind. The urge to kill and burn everything—this place, Trier, the entire world—overwhelmed him!
Dammit! Could Termiboros be using this opportunity to deceive me and use the strange power here to take control and escape the seal. He couldn't help but question the effectiveness of Termiboros's "don't respond" and the true intentions of the Inevitability angel.
Despite wanting to resist and break free from the burned-down building, Lumian couldn't shake the feeling that there was something mystical about the "abnormality" and the creature's persistence in knocking, talking, and asking for permission.
If he hadn't harbored those suspicions, he wouldn't have fully trusted Termiboros, an enemy rather than a friend. He wouldn't have endured until now. With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Lumian decided to hold on a little longer and observe what would happen next.
His head felt heavy, and his thoughts grew increasingly chaotic. A grinding sound rang in his ears, and his body seemed to ache from a distant pain. It was as if he was slipping into a semi-conscious state, while someone took the opportunity to dismember him, severing his limbs and tearing his body apart.
Then, suddenly, Lumian's consciousness withdrew. It was as if his spirit had separated from his body. He watched himself sitting by the window, covered in blood, with his eyes strangely empty. In front of him squatted a charred figure, brandishing a bloodied axe and hacking at his thigh, splitting the bone in half.
Uh… Lumian slowly realized that something was amiss.
He instinctively looked down and saw that his body remained whole!
He was still sitting by the shattered window, but the scene he witnessed was no longer the crumbling charred wooden door. Instead, he saw a "reflection" of his surroundings and his own dismemberment by the burnt shadow.
Compared to his severed legs and extracted bones, the most striking aspect was his empty, lifeless eyes.
After a brief daze, the horrifying and bloody vision disappeared, and the open, dilapidated wooden door returned to his sight.
He knew it wasn't an illusion because he felt as if he had surfaced from water, and his entire body relaxed.
If I had responded, what would have happened? Would the nightmarish scenes I saw have become real? Would that response have established a mystical connection, allowing those terrifying and almost illusionary encounters to materialize? Lumian exhaled slowly, fear still lingering in his heart.
He placed his hand on his left chest, lowered his voice, and chuckled.
"Temiboros, you truly are remarkable."
Indeed, a worthy angel. Even in His sealed state, He easily discerned the essence of the abnormality.
Termiboros's voice echoed, overlapping as if from multiple sources. "The abnormality here is considered minor."
"Minor?" Lumian couldn't believe it. "If you hadn't reminded me not to respond and if I hadn't been determined enough, something terrible might have occurred. That Gardner Martin, that vile scoundrel, really wants me dead!"
Termiboros replied in a thunderous voice, "You won't die. The abnormality will merely transform you, leading your thoughts to become fanatical about certain things while rejecting others."
Lumian pondered the explanation, finding it a bit hard to grasp.
Just then, Termiboros added, "It's like being conquered, both physically and mentally."
Suddenly, realization dawned on Lumian, and he spoke quietly, "Gardner Martin wanted me to stay here overnight so he could use this anomaly to control me and eliminate any potential threats.
No wonder he came to Salle de Bal Brise so late and didn't give me time to think!
Termiboros confirmed Lumian's suspicion, "Have you only just realized how shallow you are?"
Lumian cursed under his breath and thought to himself, Even if he succeeds, I won't be under Gardner Martin's control; I'll be manipulated by the power of this place. Isn't he worried that something might go wrong?
The abnormality here is connected to the Iron and Blood Cross Order. Is he not concerned about that?
With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Lumian furrowed his brow and asked Termiboros, "Since I won't be affected or altered abnormally, will Gardner Martin notice something off about me when I leave tomorrow morning?"
Termiboros's voice boomed.
"If such a level of corruption was easily detectable, Gardner Martin and his allies would have been eliminated by the official Beyonders long ago.
"Unless the source of corruption provides direct information, they can't tell that you're unaffected."
Hmm… As Lumian contemplated the situation, he suddenly realized a hidden truth in Termiboros's words—Gardner Martin and the members of the Iron and Blood Cross Order were already corrupted!
They were under someone else's control!
Hiss… The more Lumian thought about it, the more he found it terrifying.
After a few seconds, Lumian tried to get more information from Termiboros, asking, "When I meet Gardner Martin, how should I display my fanaticism, and which beliefs should I reject?"
Termiboros surprisingly replied, "Show fanaticism towards war and chaos and reject belief in other deities."
Lumian nodded, but another concern arose. "Considering the intensity of the recent abnormality, shouldn't everyone who enters and stays here be corrupted?"
Termiboros clarified, "Only two specific pathways inevitably trigger the abnormality here. The rest require specific actions at precise times before the anomaly will occur. The officials only recognize the latter situation and secretly prevent others from entering this building at those specific times."
"Two special pathways… Hunter and Demoness?" Lumian could roughly guess.
Termiboros didn't deny it.
As Lumian recalled the entire incident, he couldn't help but smile, saying, "Termiboros, it seems you've truly understood your situation and positioned yourself wisely."
Termiboros remained silent this time, providing no response.
In the following hours, Lumian encountered two more abnormalities. One almost broke his neck, while the other caused an explosion that sent his organs flying.
Remembering the words "don't respond," he endured the trials, eventually returning to his unharmed body.
Finally, a tinge of reddish-gold appeared on the horizon as the sun rose. Lumian stood up, basking in the morning light for a moment before leaving 13 Avenue du Marché.
There, he saw Gardner Martin sitting in a carriage opposite. Their eyes met, and in the next moment, Gardner Martin smiled.
Lumian smiled back.
