Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability

107 Shattering

Thump, thump!

Lumian felt his heartbeat pounding, as images were painstakingly dragged from the depths of his memories.

His head threatened to split open. He fought against it, unwilling to continue.

Outside the stained glass, Ryan observed the ritual beginning. He tossed the Tanago Scarecrow to Leah without hesitation, signaling her to use the Sealed Artifact against the padre. He hefted the Sword of Dawn.

Beneath the golden flames, Leah and Valentine moved to another stained glass window, a half-exposed cylindrical wall separating them from Ryan.

They did this to evade the damage from the Hurricane of Light without hindering their movements. With the cathedral’s “defensive capability,” they believed a barrier between them would suffice. After all, Ryan would do his best to control the attack’s direction.

Leah embraced the Tanago Scarecrow from behind, pressing it against the stained glass depicting St. Sith’s sermon. She aimed at the altar and Guillaume Bénet, the padre leading the ritual.

On the other side, Ryan gripped the handle with both hands, plunging the Sword of Dawn into the windowsill.

The two-handed broadsword, forged from pure light, shattered and transformed into a whirlwind of razor-sharp fragments and specks of light.

The Hurricane exploded and slammed into the stained glass before him.

With a cracking sound, the entire cathedral trembled. Hairline fractures spider-webbed across the glass surface.

But it held fast.

Seeing this, Ryan summoned the minuscule particles of Sunrise Gleam, forging a massive two-handed axe.

Unable to use Hurricane of Light for now, he switched weapons.

Leah and Valentine, shielded by the protruding wall, dodged the Hurricane of Light’s remnants. At that moment, the Tanago Scarecrow’s gaze locked onto the priest. Its eyes, set in the brownish-green straw, reflected the white-robed figure with golden threads.

Leah noticed a faint silver light tinged with black materialize around the altar where Guillaume Bénet stood.

With a snap, the Tanago Scarecrow’s eyes burst open, weeping blood-red tears.

The padre glanced over before looking away.

As two sheep “willingly” entered the altar, he intoned the incantation with calm fanaticism.

“You are the eternal cycle, the predestined destiny, the cause, the effect, and the process!”

Suddenly, the two deity-representing candles on the altar elongated to the size of a human head.

A howling wind swept through the cathedral, turning the villagers to statues. But silver-black warts emerged from their exposed faces and hands.

The silver-black light enveloping the altar rapidly spread, engulfing the entire cathedral.

The mural-filled dome became transparent. Clouds dispersed, and the crimson moon darkened to the shade of blood.

The stars on the black velvet backdrop flickered into existence, one by one, glowing with the intensity of the sun.

In an instant, night became day. The villagers stirred and murmured dreamily.

“The horoscope has changed…”

“Fortune is here…”

With three thuds, Ryan, Leah, and Valentine, who hadn’t heard but had witnessed the scene, crumpled to the ground. They writhed, wailed, and screamed in agony.

Ryan’s skin turned grayish-blue, Leah’s face appeared to teem with maggots and pulsing tendrils, and Valentine radiated a sun-like glow, from inside to out, from top to bottom.

They were on the brink of losing control.

The Tanago Scarecrow lay cast aside, trembling violently.

Lumian felt his chest burn as the terrifying voice, seemingly originating from an infinite distance and yet right beside him, echoed in his ears.

Invisible steel drills penetrated his skull, stirring his brain. Blood vessels bulged in pain, and silvery-black spots emerged beneath his skin.

An unseen force enveloped him, lifting him from the altar.

The ropes binding him and the cloth gagging him crumbled to dust and dispersed in the air.

Aurore, too, was hoisted by this invisible force, floating above the altar and facing Lumian.

His bloodshot eyes mirrored his sister’s long blonde hair, vacant light-blue eyes, pristine and emotionless face, and the simple yet odd white robe she wore.

He recoiled, sensing a familiar déjà vu from the depths of his memories. The pain was as intense as the madness.

The surrounding scenes melded together in Lumian’s mind:

The padre’s solemn and fanatical expression;

The black-robed man advancing toward the altar;

Pierre Berry prostrate on the ground;

The transparent cathedral dome;

The crimson moon and constellations in the sky;

The villagers with stiff expressions, welcoming their fortune;

Aurore, her face contorted with pain…

Lumian’s head spun as his body was torn apart by an invisible force, silver-black spots multiplying on his skin.

He was powerless to break free or resist effectively.

“Ah!”

Lumian screamed involuntarily as his chest was gradually pried open, casting a silvery-black light onto Aurore.

Aurore’s eyes darted around, hearing the agonized cry.

Her empty gaze mirrored Lumian’s swollen blood vessels, his twisted face with silver-black hues beneath the surface.

After a momentary pause, she instinctively reached out and pushed Lumian away from danger.

...

Grande Soeur… Lumian stared, dumbfounded, as Aurore shoved him out of the altar’s reach.

Suddenly, the dreadful sound in his ears vanished, and the invisible restraints on his body disappeared. The burning sensation across his skin subsided.

Yet the pain in his head remained unchanged. Deep-rooted memories were forcibly dredged up.

It was as if someone had used a hook to slowly extract his brain from his skull.

Aurore’s light-blue eyes tainted with silver-black, her blank stare, her lifeless face, and her resolute, forceful actions pushing him away flashed in Lumian’s mind. It was nearly identical to what he’d witnessed moments ago, but the black-robed man was missing from the background.

This amplified déjà vu led Lumian to instinctively question if something similar had happened before. He screamed in pain once more.

Bam! He plummeted to the ground after leaving the altar.

Ignoring the excruciating pain in his head and his disorientation, Lumian sprang up, prepared to seize Aurore and flee the altar with his sister.

A figure obstructed his path. The black-robed man wearing his face struck him on the right cheek, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Lumian refused to give in. With desperate courage, he rose again and lunged at the black-robed man blocking his way.

Whack!

...

The black-robed man swung his fist, and Lumian instinctively evaded.

He stood stunned for a moment before a twisted smile crept across his face. He snarled, “Why are you so damn weak? As weak as me!”

Lumian dismissed thoughts of the padre and Pierre Berry as he lunged at the black-robed man.

The man sidestepped, raising his right foot to trip Lumian’s calf. Lumian didn’t evade. With the terrifying flexibility of a dancer, he forced a half-turn and extended his arm to grapple his foe.

Thud! He tumbled to the ground, taking the black-robed man down with him.

The man nimbly raised his right hand, gripping Lumian’s throat and delivering a brutal knee to his groin.

Lumian didn’t flinch. Bloodshot eyes locked on his opponent, he clawed at the man’s eyes with his right hand.

“Ah!”

The black-robed man screamed as Lumian tore out his eyeballs, blood spurting forth. Lumian instinctively curled up, nearly passing out from the agony in his lower body.

Struggling to his feet, he shot the writhing man on the ground a sinister grin.

“Come on! Let’s die together! You coward! Coward!”

He lunged once more, encircling the man’s neck with his arms.

At that moment, Pierre Berry, at the edge of the altar, staggered to his feet. Brandishing his axe, he sprinted to Lumian’s side.

Whack!

His axe descended, only to be halted by a faint gray mist that had materialized. It failed to harm Lumian.

Pierre Berry employed two different abilities, but couldn’t penetrate the gray fog’s defense.

Guillaume Bénet, the priest, didn’t hesitate and began reciting a prayer.

“I implore you,

“I beseech your benediction.

“I plead with you to grant me…”

Before he could finish, the scene transformed.

The constellations in the sky shifted incrementally, deviating from their original positions.

Cordu trembled violently as every house and inch of soil surged toward the cathedral.

Silently, the villagers decomposed into organs. Eyeballs, mouths, noses, hearts, fingers, and flesh…

A scant few reassembled into different people. Some appeared normal, others malformed, some missing parts, and some with extra appendages.

The majority hurtled toward the altar and Aurore.

Cracks spread across Aurore’s body, and she swiftly disintegrated into countless pieces of flesh.

Witnessing this, Lumian spiraled into despair.

Still, he refused to surrender. Seizing the black-robed man’s head, he twisted it violently, snapping his neck under the man’s horrified gaze.

Lumian rose and raced toward his sister.

But an invisible barrier surrounding Aurore obstructed his path.

Rumble!

With a muffled thud, the cathedral began to ascend. Trees, soil, and boulders from outside the village soared, accompanied by houses, furniture, and miscellaneous items.

The organs of most villagers merged with Aurore’s flesh at the altar, contorting and writhing before morphing into a colossal being.

The giant stood four to five meters tall, boasting three heads and six arms. Its entire form was composed of flesh and organ fragments, its body riddled with cracks oozing yellow pus.

The central head of the giant, filled with pain and regret, strained to gaze at Lumian.

Transparent, blood-hued tears trickled from the corners of “his” eyes.

Witnessing this, Lumian’s mind reeled as if cleaved by an axe.

His vision wavered as he “saw” the shattered cathedral, the steadily rising blood-red “peak,” the thorny “city wall” formed by distorted houses, the encircling ruins around the “peak,” and the various monsters forced to flee the area…

What… Lumian’s head throbbed with pain again.

As he watched countless tiny beams of light shoot from the giant and surrounding monsters, landing on his chest, he realized that the scenes buried deep in his memories had been entirely unearthed. They were nearly identical to what he saw now.

This is… Lumian abruptly had a hunch, and his headache worsened.

Suddenly, everything before him turned eerily illusory, with pronounced cracks appearing like broken glass.

This is! Lumian finally recalled something.

Then, he saw the black-robed man transform into a pitch-black, repulsive liquid that soared before him and seeped into his left chest.

“Ah!”

Lumian screamed in agony as his surroundings crumbled.

He snapped his eyes open and found himself lying beneath the blood-red mountain peak. The encroaching darkness, signaling the onset of night, had nearly vanished.

Lumian instinctively sat up, leaning forward. He placed his hands on the ground and scanned his surroundings.

He saw a twisted, thorny “wall,” a barren landscape devoid of vegetation, and the dream ruins beyond. He spotted Ryan, Leah, and Valentine lying at the edge of a room not far away.

They were sound asleep.

Lumian abruptly bowed his head, raised his hands, grasped his hair, and whispered in anguish, “Is reality a dream, and the dream reality? Is this the present or the past? Aurore. Is Aurore beyond saving?”

“Yes.” A woman’s voice echoed in the ruins.

Lumian looked up, bewildered, and faintly saw the enigmatic woman appear before him.

She approached, wearing the orange dress she’d donned at the beginning.

“That’s why you were so desperate to obtain superpowers in your dream, regardless of the consequences. That’s why you disregarded others’ lives and even your own. You wanted to resolve the loop embodying the concept of a ‘problem’ as quickly as possible. That’s why you couldn’t control your instincts and uttered inappropriate words or performed inappropriate actions on certain occasions…”

Lumian gazed at the mysterious woman, dazed, realizing that the indescribable and inexplicable emotion in her eyes had resurfaced.

This time, he could finally decipher it.

It was pity.