Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability Chapter 410 – A Leisure Week

410 A Leisure Week

In the drizzling execution ground, Lumian watched as the crimson flames gradually dwindled before his eyes. He observed as translucent, colorless mucus seeped out of the corpse. It surrounded the charred and cracked I Know Someone, attempting to burrow into his head through the empty eye sockets and fuse with some organ.

Rumble!

I Know Someone’s head exploded from the inside out, splattering grayish-white colloids everywhere.

The transparent, colorless mucus had lost its binding substance, leaving it only able to condense independently, eventually forming a sticky colloid.

This colloid landed beneath the stake. From a distance, it resembled an unfixed mirror, capable of reflecting everything around it.

Lumian strode over and retrieved the colorless colloid, which was likely a Hypnotist Beyonder characteristic. He did this amidst the scorching air and the flames that flowed around him.

As he gazed upon it, he noticed minuscule transparent bubbles deep within the colloid. They caught and refracted sunlight from various angles, displaying an array of colors.

After storing away the Beyonder characteristic, Lumian turned on his heel and departed from the stake.

Behind him, the lingering flames continued their relentless assault, devouring the charred corpse.

As the light flickered, Lumian’s figure vanished from the Rois Comprehensive Execution Ground.

…

In Apartment 601, 3 Rue des Blouses Blanches, in the market district.

Lumian, who had reverted to his original form with the Lie earring, rubbed his temples and turned to Franca.

“It’s already taken care of. It’s fitting for someone like him to meet his end at the stake.”

“Unfortunately, he’s a believer in the Celestial Worthy. Even if he doesn’t take action, he remains a hidden threat—a potential time bomb. Otherwise, I would have spared him, albeit with his frontal lobe removed and his sight forever gone.”

Franca breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s reassuring.”

In truth, she felt a twinge of regret. If not for the insanity that had gripped I Know Someone in the past and his faith in the Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings, who was suspected of triggering their transmigration, she might have attempted to channel his spirit and inquire about the potion formula for the Spectator pathway, from Sequence 9 down to Sequence 6 or even Sequence 5. However, after thorough contemplation, she decided to forsake this perilous scheme.

Lumian’s gaze shifted to the open door of the guest bedroom.

“Where’s Jenna?”

“She’s gone to the Théatre de l’Ancienne Cage à Pigeons,” Franca taunted Lumian. “She’s much more diligent than you in digesting the potion.”

Lumian replied thoughtfully, “After venting the flames within me to battle and carry out the execution, my Pyromaniac potion has significantly digested. At this rate, if I can distill a new acting principle, it should be fully digested within two months.”

“No problem,” Franca replied without hesitation. “The Beyonder characteristics of these followers of the evil god have eluded the grasp of high-ranking individuals. I wouldn’t dare to possess them myself. There’s no need to think about repaying me. Dealing with I Know Someone is also a mandate from the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society.”

“Where are you off to?” Lumian asked casually.

Franca responded with a hint of annoyance, “I’ve been caught up in all sorts of messes you’ve stirred up lately, and I haven’t had a moment to pleasure myself. Now that it’s finally settled, it’s only fair that I take a break, right? I suggest you behave yourself for the next few days!”

Lumian couldn’t help but smile as the Demoness of Pleasure slipped on her boots, swung the door open, and left.

Once the door slammed shut, Lumian, who had originally planned to return to Auberge du Coq Doré to write to Madam Magician, grabbed a pen and paper from the nearby table. He meticulously jotted down all the information I Know Someone had given him.

He then neatly folded the paper and placed I Know Someone’s Hypnotist Beyonder characteristic on top of it.

Summoning the “doll” messenger, Lumian patiently waited.

Before long, the “doll” messenger returned, carrying the translucent colloid and a square piece of folded paper.

Madam Magician’s reply read:

“This is a shared mission of the Tarot Club. There’s no need for a reward. Keep it for yourself. I’ve already removed the corruption that could be removed.

“We’ll mobilize various resources to search for the whereabouts of the remaining five April Fool’s members, but we currently lack a solid lead. The pranks mentioned in the information have been ongoing for too long.”

Lumian finished reading in silence, allowing the crimson flames to consume the paper in his hand.

He longed to teleport directly to Feynapotter’s Gaia Province and the Southern Continent’s West Balam to personally hunt down the suspicious April Fool’s team members, such as Bard. However, he knew it was futile. Without sufficient information or clues, it was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

He couldn’t rely on the ice-cream-eating boy’s luck every time, could he?

All I can do now is wait for the Tarot Club to uncover useful leads… The only person I can track down at the moment is the publisher of the underground book, Emperor Roselle’s Secret Chronicles. If only they had met with the real author, Bard… Lumian felt a mixture of disappointment and relief.

He planned to take his time with the Hypnotist Beyonder characteristic. While he searched for a suitable Artisan, he waited for Anthony Reid to investigate General Philip’s widow.

If the Psychiatrist gained something and succeeded in curing his psychological issues, Lumian wouldn’t mind selling him the Hypnotist Beyonder characteristics and splitting the proceeds with Franca.

If Lumian found a suitable Artisan before that, he would designate the mystical item he crafted as a common resource, allowing Franca, Jenna, and the others to use it as they saw fit.

After tucking away the Hypnotist Beyonder characteristic in a concealed pocket, Lumian exhaled and leaned back in his dining chair.

Only then did he hear the growl of his stomach and realize his hunger.

Since waking up at 6 a.m., he had been engrossed in the interrogation, execution, and letter writing, completely forgetting about breakfast.

Honestly, leaving me alone here; it’s as if I live here… Lumian mumbled to himself as he got up and ventured into the apartment’s kitchen to see what ingredients were available.

Scanning the area, he spotted a few potatoes.

Following the process, he ignited the stove, heated a pan, added oil, sautéed, and tossed in the shredded potatoes. He seasoned the dish accordingly.

Once it was ready, Lumian toasted two slices of bread and poured a glass of milk.

Sitting down at the dining table, he sandwiched the crispy shredded potatoes between the slices of toast and savored them, occasionally taking a sip of milk.

Outside the window, the drizzle had cleared, and the sun beamed brightly.

…

During the following week, Lumian made the most of his time. He patiently awaited the recovery of his mental damage from the past two battles, taking the opportunity to act as a Pyromaniac and gradually digest the potion.

In the midst of this process, he also managed to report to Mr. K about his recent activities and the discovery of the evil god organization.

Members of the Savoie Mob in Salle de Bal Brise were surprised. Their boss had unexpectedly appeared for five to six consecutive days and had stayed for extended periods each time. Compared to their previous experiences of him being unavailable, it was as if he had found a double.

Charlie was equally astounded. Ciel frequented the basement bar every night to drink, tease, and taunt people, making him the prime target of this unusual dedication.

Just as Franca was about to revisit Trocadéro’s Red House café and discreetly remind Browns Sauron not to forget auditing her, Hela’s pure silver skull sent out a notice of a special gathering to Apartment 601 at 3 Rue des Blouses Blanches and Lumian’s abandoned safe house on Rue des Blouses Blanches.

It had been a while since Lumian had visited the safe house. If Franca hadn’t inquired about the letter upon receiving it, he might not have been aware of it.

Many members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society operated in a similar fashion. They had designated locations for receiving and sending letters but did not actually reside there. They only visited periodically to avoid detection by Hela,

finding comfort in these small details.

Lumian arrived at the abandoned safe house on Rue des Blouses Blanches and carefully unfolded the letter. Its contents read:

“Muggle:

“There’s a special gathering scheduled for 10 tonight. We need to discuss something of utmost importance that concerns everyone’s safety.”

…

At night, just three minutes shy of ten o’clock, Lumian recited the incantation imbued with Concealment powers within the confines of the safe house on Rue du Rossignol.

Gradually, he felt himself sinking into a profound slumber, the sensation akin to his body being erased by an enormous eraser.

After an indeterminate period, he suddenly regained consciousness and found himself standing amidst an ancient palace enveloped in the misty shroud of a town.

Over a hundred members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society had already assembled, their figures still taking shape.

Navigating through what resembled a grand masquerade ball venue, Lumian, now transformed into Aurore using Lie, wore a Warlock’s black robe and half-mask as he approached the Academy team.

He scanned the area but didn’t spot the member known as Pettigrew.

Standing beside a slender man with a brownish-yellow manila document bag obscuring his head was Professor, adorned in a black butterfly mask, a bow tie shirt, and a long dark coat.

It was her husband, Associate Professor.

Professor regarded Lumian with curiosity and inquired, “Do you know what’s happening? Why did they convene this special gathering?”

Lumian, taking on the persona of “Muggle” Aurore, smirked and let out a sigh.

“Because we have traitors among us.”

“Traitors…” Professor and the other members of the Academy team echoed the term.

At that moment, the half-giant president, Gandalf, attired in a simple robe and hood, and the vice president, Hela, who appeared as a black widow with her face concealed by a veil, made their way to the massive stone throne situated deep within the ancient palace.