Chapter 613: True Name

Boom boom boom!

As the explosion tore at his body, Lumian once again activated the black mark on his right shoulder, relying on the "Penitent's" tolerance for pain and the "Arsonist's" resistance to burning.

He vanished into the rolling flames, carrying Father Montserrat, whose neck had been pierced by the "Chant of Hatred," reappearing at the edge of the dark wilderness.

His linen shirt, black vest, and dark trousers were shredded; exposed skin was a bloody mess, streaked with char, and in places, white bones were plainly visible.

Father Montserrat was near death; the dirty, translucent white membrane covering his body had been torn and burned away in the explosion, leaving his mutated, naked form—sprouting multiple organs—riddled with depressions, scorched patches, and chunks of flesh continuously falling off.

Plop.

The first chunk of flesh landed on the dark edge still covered in weeds, then suddenly seeped downward, as if absorbed by the soil.

Seeing this, Lumian's mind stirred; he gripped Father Montserrat's body and activated "Teleport" again.

He directly left the dark wilderness, his silhouette outlined on the deck bathed in crimson moonlight.

At the same time, the bark of the illusory oak tree deep in the cargo hold peeled away, revealing large, wet, slick fleshy petals.

The engorged petals began to writhe, but only spat out a tiny figure no bigger than a palm.

This figure, as it fell to the ground alongside Father Montserrat, was nearly identical in size to the flesh that had been absorbed by the wilderness.

Its features were clean, its state youthful—it was clearly a shrunken version of Father Montserrat, reduced by an unknown degree.

This Father Montserrat had vacant eyes, a rigid expression, and showed no sign of intelligence whatsoever.

The silver-white "Pride Armor" rushed forward, bringing down its newly reformed light hammer with crushing force, flattening the tiny elf-like Montserrat into a bloody pulp.

Dots of dawnlight immediately flared, swiftly dissolving the pulp.

The illusory, massive oak instantly grew more transparent; the black wilderness covered in weeds fractured rapidly.

In the blink of an eye, the abnormal phenomenon vanished; the cargo hold returned to its original state, though several wooden crates were shattered, and the steel walls and floor bore obvious dents and deep grooves.

On the other side, Lumian drew the "Chant of Hatred," the black bone flute, and watched as Father Montserrat's blood dripped onto the steel-decked floor without any absorption.

He had just sighed in relief when he heard the dying, barely audible, yet persistent voice of Father Montserrat, lying on the ground in his final moments:

"To expel it, the Son, you must know His true name!"

"His true name is…"

Suddenly, Father Montserrat's voice vanished, yet his mouth continued to open and close.

And once again, Lumian heard that illusory, hollow infant's cry beside his ear.

Unlike before, the cry now came from far away, as if from another world; Lumian's body did not stiffen or grow cold, nor did he lose his ability to move.

Was the invisible Son still wary of the "Blood Emperor's" aura? Was this a primal fear? Lumian swiftly scanned around and realized the crimson moonlight on the deck—or around him—had disappeared.

This area had become unnaturally dark; even the sound of waves crashing was muted.

"Wah! Wah! Wah!"

The infant's cry continued, and its origin gradually became clearer.

Lumian suddenly lowered his head, fixing his gaze on the lifeless body of Father Montserrat, on the bloody, mangled corpse, on its abdomen.

There, it had swollen inexplicably, as if something inside was writhing, stretching the already massive wound into an eerie crimson red.

Lumian narrowed his eyes, dropped to one knee, and extended his right hand, clutching the "Chant of Hatred," toward Father Montserrat's distended belly.

Sssch!

As the black bone flute lightly sliced, Father Montserrat's crimson belly split open, revealing blood-smeared small intestines and other internal organs—no sign of the Son, no wet, filthy infant.

Puff! A torrent of pale yellow, transparent fluid gushed from the split belly, drenching the surrounding deck.

"Wah! Wah! Wah!"

The infant's cry grew louder, more shrill, and drew closer to Lumian.

It seemed to be overcoming its fear of the "Blood Emperor's" aura through mounting rage and hatred.

I need to find a professional to expel this invisible Son… Lumian, whose spiritual energy still allowed two uses of "Spirit World Transit," decided to seek help.

The "Hunter" is not an expert in this!

Yet after activating the black mark on his right shoulder, Lumian found he could no longer sense the Spirit World or the coordinates he had mastered.

The abnormal darkness brought by the Son's piercing cry seemed to seal off this entire area.

This was even closer to the "Other Side"!

No way to find help, no way to summon a messenger or petition higher beings… Lumian's gaze sharpened, his heart sank.

At this moment, the invisible Son's cry drew nearer; he felt his body stiffening and growing cold again.

In a flash of thought, Lumian, as the "Conspirator," swiftly devised a new plan:

"Exorcism Ritual!"

One of the five ritual magics of the "Begging Monks," capable of expelling vengeful spirits and even malevolent entities.

In essence, the Son—still unborn into the real world, existing in an invisible state—was very similar to vengeful spirits and malevolent entities!

As for the fact that the "Exorcism Ritual" also requires a target to be petitioned, Lumian was not concerned.

First, he could use his own name; second, to enhance the effect, he could directly petition "The Fool," whose seal on his chest would respond nearby and provide rank and power, even if the outside world was cut off.

Additionally, as a "Penitent," Lumian could simplify parts of the "Exorcism Ritual," allowing it to be completed in the shortest possible time.

The problem now: the "Exorcism Ritual" required the target's true name and an item it had long carried—Lumian had neither.

He turned his gaze again to Father Montserrat's split, deflated belly, searching for anything possibly related.

If he found nothing within a minute, he would fully activate the aura of "Blood Emperor" Arista Tudo, to see if he could scare off the invisible Son, break through the abnormal darkness, and indirectly achieve expulsion.

After scanning back and forth, Lumian's eyes settled on the chaotic, blood-stained small intestines.

Among them was a short, flesh-colored, blood-smeared, clearly underdeveloped rod-like object.

This… the Son's undeveloped umbilical cord? If it truly was the cord, then it was intimately connected to the Son, bound by flesh and blood—I wouldn't even need to know His true name to possibly make the "Exorcism Ritual" succeed… Lumian sheathed the "Chant of Hatred," seized the suspected undeveloped umbilical cord, and tore it free.

The illusory infant's cry grew fiercer and more shrill.

Lumian shuddered, then softly laughed:

"Thank you for confirming it for me."

Holding the undeveloped umbilical cord, he began a dance of strong rhythm, extreme distortion, and primal energy.

As he danced, Lumian repeatedly bent his body, using the cord to dip into Father Montserrat's blood and trace corresponding symbols on the deck.

He simplified the required patterns, straightened up, pressed his left palm down, and conjured a crimson-white flame atop the symbols.

Then he placed the umbilical cord into the flame.

This carried strong symbolic meaning: expulsion, burning, purification!

"Wah!"

The infant's cry surged closer; Lumian's entire body grew cold, trembling slightly.

He quickly placed a lit candle above the flame and the cord, then stepped back one pace and chanted in Hermesian:

"The Fool of this age, the mysterious sovereign above the gray mist, the King of Yellow and Black who governs fortune…"

As he spoke "The Fool's" holy name, a thin veil of gray mist spread out; the invisible infant's cry instantly receded, becoming more hollow.

Feeling the heat in his left chest, Lumian's expression turned solemn; he stepped forward two paces, seized the burning umbilical cord, swung it three times, then returned it to its place.

He continued chanting:

"I beseech your aid;

"I beseech you to expel the entity connected to this umbilical cord…"

Instantly, the crimson-white flame took on the hue of gray mist, burning more fiercely; the umbilical cord blackened rapidly, and beside it emerged the transparent, blood-smeared, explosion-scarred face of Father Montserrat—the hollow infant's cry grew ever more distant.

Father Montserrat's spirit involuntarily recoiled backward, his pained face showing a trace of relief.

He too was one of the entities connected to the cord—he was now a ghost!

Father Montserrat struggled to raise his hands high, screaming with all his strength:

"Life is precious, harvest is joyous!

"Praise the Earth, praise the Mother of All Things!"

His transparent spirit dissolved swiftly into the darkness; the invisible Son let out a shriek filled with hatred and curses.

The shriek echoed inside Lumian's skull, as if each strike pierced his mind; he grew extremely weak, his thoughts consumed by soul-deep pain, losing all perception of the outside world.

When he recovered, the abnormal darkness on the deck had vanished; crimson moonlight once again bathed the area.

The symbols drawn on the ground and the flame tinged with gray mist were erased as if by invisible hands, leaving only the still-burning candle and the charred, shriveled remains of the umbilical cord.

After a few seconds, Lumian bent down, extinguished the candle, and pressed his hand to his chest, whispering softly:

"Thank you, Mr. Fool."

After stowing the umbilical cord remains and the ritual candle, he glanced at Father Montserrat's corpse, still lacking any extraordinary properties, and released the "accumulated" power.

His spiritual energy recovered; his weakness eased.

Only then did Lumian have the confidence to return to the cargo hold and place the silently standing "Pride Armor" into "The Traveler's Satchel."

After this, he changed his tattered clothing and briefly treated his exposed wounds.

Then, gritting his teeth, he walked calmly back to his suite and told Captain Pedro and the others:

"The problem is resolved. Father Montserrat's body is on the deck. His belongings should be handed over to the 'Earth Mother Church's'… the Divine Favored."

Lumian had no intention of keeping any items belonging to the Earth Mother Church.

Captain Pedro and the others left, uncertain and alarmed, to verify the situation on deck; Lu Jianuo stepped closer to Lumian and whispered:

"Is Father Montserrat really dead?"

"You can go see his body," Lumian replied with a "smile," planning to instruct the servant to provide treatment.

Lu Jianuo frowned and said:

"But earlier, I still faintly heard his voice—he seemed to be shouting the name of that so-called Son."

Shouting the so-called Son's name? At the time, Father Montserrat had indeed spoken the Son's true name, but due to certain special reasons, it never reached the real world—only those who had been contaminated by the Son and were nearby could hear it? Lumian thought for a moment, then said to Lu Jianuo:

That happened before Father Montserrat died.

What name did he shout?

Lu Jianuo exhaled and recalled, saying:

"It was, it was…"

Finally, he remembered and reconstructed the pronunciation:

"It was, Oumibela."

(End of Chapter)