Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability Chapter 270 - 270 Agreement

Chapter 270 - 270 Agreement

270 Agreement

“Madame Hela? How do you know her?” Franca’s immediate reaction was one of surprise and astonishment.

She quickly remembered that Lumian’s sister, Muggle, was also a member of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society. She hastily added, “Did your sister mention Madame Hela to you?”

Lumian nodded.

“Not only did she mention her, but she also gave me the incantation to summon Madame Hela’s messenger.”

“Did she suggest seeking help from Madame Hela when you faced trouble?” Franca speculated. “Are you planning to summon Madame Hela’s messenger and ask if she can be trusted?”

“Sort of,” Lumian affirmed. “I’ve already established a connection with Madame Hela and summoned her messenger, but today I realized that some of my sister’s actions during the disaster in Cordu were unusual. It seems to be connected to Madame Hela. I don’t know if I should question her directly.”

Observing that Lumian hadn’t provided further details about the disaster in Cordu or Aurore’s abnormal behavior, Franca understood why and refrained from prying. She pondered and replied,

“Personally, I trust Madame Hela. Dammit, you’ve established a connection with her without even telling me!

“Well… She’s one of the most advanced members of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society on the paths of the divine. There are suspicions that she belongs to the Corpse Collector pathway.”

“Not only does she willingly share her knowledge and experience with us, but she also offers a.s.sistance whenever possible. The items she trades are only slightly more expensive than their cost price.”

“To many of us, including your sister and me, Madame Hela is like a dependable older sister. She has rescued us from helplessness, anxiety, and indecision. We trust her implicitly.”

“Understood,” Lumian sighed with relief. “I’ll have an honest conversation with Madame Hela to uncover the true cause of the problem.”

At this point, he changed the subject.

“Does your Major Arcana card know about the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society?”

“I haven’t mentioned it to her directly. All I said was that I joined a secret organization that provides mutual a.s.sistance. However, she seems to be aware of the Research Society’s situation,” Franca lowered her voice unconsciously. “I suspect I’m not the only member of the Tarot Club in the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society.”

With his lingering doubts cleared, Lumian turned around, smiling, and waved his hand.

“I’m going to summon Madame Hela’s messenger.”

“Hey, it’s still early. Want to play Fighting Evil for a couple of hours before heading back?” Franca, who wasn’t fond of going to bed early, tried to find some entertainment.

Lumian rejected her without hesitation.

When he returned to Room 207 of Auberge du Coq Doré, Lumian didn’t rush to summon Hela’s messenger. Instead, he unfolded a piece of paper and wrote to Madam Magician once again.

He briefly mentioned the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society and informed the demiG.o.d that Aurore was willing to seek help anonymously from the authorities when she was lucid. However, she hadn’t summoned Hela’s messenger for advice, which didn’t align with her behavior in Lumian’s dream. He didn’t know if Aurore was under another restriction or if there was an issue with Hela.

Before long, Madam Magician replied with a simple line: “Based on the information we have, Hela is trustworthy.”

Phew… Lumian relaxed and began writing a letter to Madame Hela.

In the letter, he candidly pointed out Aurore’s abnormality and asked if she had missed receiving any letters.

Skilled in the process, Lumian made slight adjustments to the altar and changed the ingredients. He swiftly summoned a human skull that appeared to be made of pure silver.

As he gazed at the pale-white flames silently burning in the skull’s eye sockets, Pyromaniac Lumian felt a greater sense of danger emanating from it than ever before.

It was no less intense than the feeling he got from Madam Magician’s puppet messenger!

The pure silver skull clamped onto the letter and vanished into the dense darkness around it.

Lumian didn’t rush to tidy up the altar. He patiently waited.

As time ticked by, a letter suddenly materialized on the wooden table in front of him, and he hadn’t sensed its arrival until the end.

Of course, this was a significant improvement from before. Previously, he only noticed it after the pure silver skull had placed the letter.

Lumian unfolded the letter and swiftly scanned it under the glow of the two yellow candles on the altar.

“I haven’t received any letters from Muggle since February of this year.

“I understand that a one-sided story lacks credibility, but if you carefully consider it, you should find some details that support this matter.

“I suspect that some force had influenced Muggle, causing her to refrain from seeking help from me for some reason. In fact, if she had written to me before the catastrophe completely unfolded, I could have arrived earlier than the official Beyonders. I might have been able to save Muggle and prevent the catastrophe.

“Often, letters and exchanges fail to inspire insights, making it difficult for us to engage in broader and more profound discussions. I will be in Trier in the coming days. If you are willing, we can arrange a time and place to meet and discuss your sister’s encounter and the disaster in Cordu in detail. Perhaps, then, I can offer you useful suggestions.”

Lumian pondered for a few seconds before recalling a detail from his dream.

Aurore had attempted to summon Hela’s messenger but ultimately refrained from doing so. She was afraid of triggering a loop that would cause Cordu to restart frequently.

This likely meant that she had given up summoning Hela’s messenger in reality or that she had tried but failed for some reason.

After realizing this, Lumian replied to Hela’s suggestion, “No problem. We’ll arrange a time and place when you arrive in Trier.”

After sending the letter, concluding the ritual, and tidying up the altar, Lumian realized it was getting late. He quickly washed up, lay on the bed, and drifted off to sleep.

The following morning, Lumian awoke naturally to the resonating sound of the cathedral bell.

After visiting the washroom, he embarked on his usual morning jog along familiar streets like Rue Anarchie and Avenue du Marché, fully energizing his body.

During his routine, he discovered an empty s.p.a.ce in the square outside église Saint-Robert and spent nearly an hour practicing combat techniques.

Returning to Auberge du Coq Doré, Lumian enjoyed a meatloaf breakfast while sipping a Whiskey Sour. On his way, he pa.s.sed the Suhit steam locomotive station, where new vendors were already selling photos of street ma?tresse d’ateliers.

Lumian scanned the scene and caught sight of Baron Brignais.

The Savoie Mob leader, adorned with a diamond ring and smoking a mahogany pipe, appeared gentlemanly with his half top hat and the absence of any accompanying thugs.

Holding a seven- or eight-year-old child, he made his way from the steam locomotive station towards a carriage parked by the roadside.

The child donned a caramel coat with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, a black-and-white checkered s.h.i.+rt, and a linen coat. His black strapless leather shoes and white socks paired with a dark-red school bag that appeared somewhat heavy and solid.

With yellow hair, brown eyes, and a st.u.r.dy physique, the child had noticeable baby fat on his face and exuded an air of simplicity and honesty.

Baron Brignais’s child? He usually resides in other provinces and visits Trier for summer vacations? No wonder they don’t seem too familiar… Lumian muttered to himself, redirecting his gaze and continuing his stroll.

…

11 Rue des Fontaines, within Gardner Martin’s grayish-white three-story villa.

Lumian arrived in the exclusive carriage of Salle de Bal Brise. He pa.s.sed through the hall adorned with weapons and armor, arriving at a room filled with bookshelves.

Gardner Martin, displaying his amiable disposition, deep facial features, and brownish-red eyes, sat in an armchair at the back of the study. Standing before him were the short “Rat” Christo, with his gray-black hair, dark-blue eyes, and mustache, and the towering “Giant” Simon, measuring over 1.9 meters, his light-yellow hair closely cropped, clad in an unusually tight black suit.

Sensing Lumian’s entrance into the study, “Giant” Simon and “Rat” Christo turned to regard their colleague.

“Giant” Simon’s eyes displayed caution and defiance as he instinctively raised his head.

He believed that Ciel, who had defeated “Hammer” Ait, shouldn’t be underestimated. However, he also believed that he himself was unquestionably stronger than that fool and might not lose to Ciel.

“Rat” Christo showed no evident emotions, but the right pocket of his dark brown s.h.i.+rt suddenly stirred, as if something alive resided within.

Christo slipped his right hand into his pocket, his expression abruptly changing.

His gaze upon Lumian grew intense with fear, and he couldn’t help but smile obsequiously.

Wh… Lumian felt a tad uneasy.

After pondering for a moment, he suspected that “Rat” Christo had used an item in his pocket to “see” that Lumian had advanced to Sequence 7 and become a Pyromaniac.

In contrast, “Giant” Simon clearly lacked such intuition, failing to notice the subtle s.h.i.+fts in his colleague.

“Good morning, Boss,” Lumian energetically greeted Gardner Martin.

A few days ago, he had informed the boss of the Savoie Mob that he had consumed the potion and advanced to Pyromaniac.

Gardner Martin nodded slightly, s.h.i.+fting his gaze from Lumian’s face to “Rat” Christo and “Giant” Simon.

After nearly ten seconds, he spoke in a low voice, “I have a mission for all of you. At precisely noon, retrieve something from Underground Trier and bring it to Rue des Fontaines.”

Mission? Lumian’s eyebrows twitched, sensing a potential trap.

As a new Beyonder to the Savoie Mob, trust between him and Gardner Martin was still lacking. Why would he be a.s.signed such a crucial and confidential task?

With these thoughts racing through his mind, Lumian had two conjectures: either he was mere cannon fodder or this was a test.