Chapter 470 Three Heads, Six Arms
Lumian and Jenna plunged into the darkness, the area that should have been Salle de Bal Brise before the Hostel’s “rooms” and the blue-beretted pixie could escape the entanglement of old bones.
His vision plunged into darkness before specks of spiritual light emerged ahead.
They converged like resplendent stars, turning densely packed, akin to a black velvet curtain adorned with diamonds or countless grains of sand in water.
Amidst these spiritual lights, an ancient, heavy, illusory, and mysterious door materialized in distortion.
Iron-black, its surface marred by dark-red rust, as if a large amount of blood had spilled upon it.
In Underground Trier, within the undetectable mine.
In his untouchable state, the Painter witnessed yellowed skeletons clamoring into the colossal oil painting on the rock wall. Iron-black and dark-red lines outlined themselves in the previously empty Salle de Bal Brise, forming a door that shouldn’t exist in reality.
“It’s not time yet, not time yet…” The Painter, with tassels adorning his trouser legs, stared blankly, unable to believe such a development.
Though he and his accomplices had been attempting to depict this imaginary door, they knew it was destined to fail. At most, they would complete a fifth of it before having to start anew. They persisted for the experience, anticipating that once the ritual commenced, they could draw the crucial parts swiftly.
Having already finished the main part of the Hostel oil painting, they had nothing else to do. Why not try a few more times? What if a miracle occurred?
Now, a miracle unfolded without their attempts!
The Painter gazed at the transformation before him, a mix of anticipation and shock.
He couldn’t help but look up at the cave ceiling and silently mutter, Do we not need cooperation from aboveground to make the entrance appear?
Could the abnormality in the painting world be causing this?
If we don’t coordinate with the surface in time, even if the entrance appears, we won’t be able to bypass the seal and enter…
Lumian and Jenna descended as if through a dark pipe, uncontrollably approaching the void adorned with spiritual specks of light and the bloodied, rusted door.
Almost simultaneously, Lumian’s left chest heated up, and terrifying ravings echoed in his ears from an infinite height and distance.
Familiar with this sensation, indicating the corruption of Inevitability in his body, Lumian knew Termiboros was up to something, and Mr. Fool’s seal had been triggered.
However, unlike before, Lumian refrained from attempting to crack the seal to steal Inevitability’s power. Consequently, he didn’t enter a state of excruciating pain, just a bit dazed.
In his daze, Lumian saw Séraphine—Room 7—clad in a white halter dress. Other “rooms” with varied appearances and attire, yet nearly identical dispositions,
seemed to detach from the painting world and overlap with the fake Avenue du Marché.
The left chests of these “rooms” emitted a faint glow, suggesting they too had seals on them.
Lumian’s head spun as a scene—whether real or fake—unfolded before him.
Séraphine and the other 12 “rooms” stepped into the void and surrounded him, invisible and hidden connections intertwining.
Jenna, arm clutched by Lumian, sensed something and turned her head.
Flesh on Lumian’s left and right shoulders writhed as two illusory heads emerged.
One head looked like a ten-year-old Lumian, covered in dirt, and his eyes filled with ruthlessness. The other, nearly thirty, with blood-red hair and iron-black eyes, looked violent and crazy.
Wh— Jenna felt as if she had entered a nightmare, witnessing her companion transform into a monster.
Lumian’s body expanded, gripping Jenna like a palm-sized puppet.
Behind him, illusory arms sprouted from his ribs.
Lumian didn’t neglect the changes in his body. He saw his current form in Jenna’s eyes.
A three-headed, six-armed giant!
It bore a striking resemblance to the monster in Cordu’s ruins!
However, Lumian didn’t lose his mind. He was certain The Fool’s seal on his chest and Termiboros were still intact.
An illusory collision reverberated as Lumian crashed into the ancient, heavy, and mysterious door, causing it to tremble and creak. It was about to open.
At that moment, the spiritual spots on the black velvet curtain lit up, stabilizing the iron-black door stained with blood and rust.
Witnessing and experiencing this, Lumian suddenly grasped what Hostel was, why they referred to him as Room 1, and the heretics’ intentions and plans.
The concept of Hostel likely emerged after the Tree of Shadow disaster.
At some point, Maipú Meyer, ostracized, established contact with other cults, informing them of Lumian’s existence and state.
They imitated the situation where an evil god’s Blessed was sealed within Lumian’s body, creating Hostel, Rooms 2 to 13. They invited various evil gods’ Blessed to take up residence, establishing a mystical connection among them based on this systematic similarity.
When Lumian entered the painting world, actions taken on the other “rooms” of Hostel were equivalent to acts on Lumian.
When the Hostel took shape and all the “rooms” were pieced together, Lumian couldn’t help but be affected.
Since the “rooms” displayed the levels of their residents, Lumian underwent a corresponding change.
The resident within him was an Angel, Termiboros!
After the mysticism-based Hostel ritual, Lumian, lacking the strength of an Angel or a true Mythical Creature form, had briefly attained the level of an Angel!
This explained why Voisin Sanson and company didn’t leave the room and attacked Lumian directly.
Termiboros was sealed, so they naturally wanted Him too. They had to maintain this state until the ritual ended!
Of course, the heretics weren’t kind enough to help Lumian experience the state of an Inevitability Angel. Their goal was to use this opportunity to enter Fourth Epoch Trier.
Opening the door using an Angel’s level!
Hence, the Hostel had to align with some areas of the market district and exhibit environmental similarities.
Lumian speculated that the Salle de Bal Brise’s underground corresponded to a weak spot in the seal. In the past, there had even been problems. Many old bones, guided by Alista Tudor’s aura, had crawled out. The corruption leaked, affecting 13 Avenue du Marché.
This made Lumian wonder if his arrival in the market district and his stay at Auberge du Coq Doré had something to do with the attraction the underground area had on Hunters.
Due to this crucial information, the Salle de Bal Brise in the painting world remained blank and dark. The streets surrounding it and the people who often appeared nearby were replicated in appearance.
When the corresponding ritual truly commenced, the surface’s market district and the underground market district would likely undergo a switch. Reality would become a fabrication, and fabrication would become reality, revealing or outlining the seal corresponding to Salle de Bal Brise, weakening it to the extreme.
When the time came, Lumian, an Angel, could “open” the door to Fourth Epoch Trier!
Maipú Meyer’s return to the market district aimed to harness his Actor abilities, acting as different individuals. He would enter various houses and assist Pixies in grasping the specifics of these streets to complete the massive painting of Hostel.
Worried that Lumian, Franca, and others would notice in advance, he avoided their rooms, lacking sufficient knowledge.
Looking at the mysterious door beneath him, Lumian tried to distance himself, but he couldn’t break free. It was as if a huge magnet was sucking him—now an Angel—behind the door, causing him to involuntarily squeeze inside.
Thanks to countless spots of spirituality in the surrounding darkness, the ancient door, stained with blood and rust, didn’t open.
Lumian sensed that this was because the Hostel ritual hadn’t fully commenced.
He and Jenna had barged into the painting world ahead of time, disrupting the heretics’ arrangements!
Now, if the Hostel ritual was to be completed and the surface and underground switched, there were at least two key points that couldn’t be matched.
Firstly, the subterranean seal, which could only be released by destroying Trier and eliminating most of the people here, now had the switch between reality and fabrication, a temporary acquisition of an angelic level, and the discovery of weakness in the seal; thus, the requirement could be significantly reduced. However, lowering the requirement further would necessitate a riot bringing chaos to the surface Trier.
Secondly, it was afternoon in the painting world, and the Sun was only westering. The sky was still bright, but in reality, it was the middle of the night. The moonlight was dim, and the darkness was dense.
Avenue du Marché, market district.
In a double-breasted brown coat, Angoulême de Fran?ois noted the secret of église Saint-Robert’s old cemetery on paper, placing it in the safe house provided by Hidden Blade, hoping she would discover it in time.
The Purifier deacon guided his robot toward Imre and Valentine, who awaited near Salle de Bal Brise.
At that moment, the rumbling salvos reached his ears.
Instinctively, he turned his head to see Trier’s sky illuminated by flames.
An army rebellion? Angoulême furrowed his brow.
Now, most Purifiers from the dioceses were dispersed to quell strikes, marches, and protests after daybreak.
Unexpectedly, trouble arose in the military camp!
Was news of the massive strike deliberately sent to us, forcing a dispersion of forces and making it impossible for us to organize manpower to resolve the problem in a short period of time? A conspiracy by the Iron and Blood Cross Order? Angoulême instantly had a suspicion.
In Quartier éraste, a wilderness emerged from the Sacred Heart Cloister that had been thrown into turbulence and darkness.
Lady Moon’s voice resonated, her smile evident as she addressed Magician and Justice,”You might not have guessed who’s sheltering us this time…”
Before she could finish, the sound of a baby crying echoed.
The baby’s cries were vibrant, bringing forth endless golden sunlight.
The entire Sacred Heart Cloister transformed into a blazing sun, piercing through the turbulent storm and distorting space.
In the real Trier, the still-sleeping citizens were jolted awake by the sunlight.
In Apartment 601, Franca and Anthony Reid instinctively looked up at the suddenly bright sky.
A dazzling golden sun hung in the sky, positioned to the west.