Chapter 73: Sacrificial Dance (Requesting Monthly Votes)

“The power of fate!”

As he spoke the ancient Hermes language, Lumian immediately felt the light inside the altar dim sharply; the orange-yellow candle flame quivered violently in an invisible wind, compressed to the size of a single peppercorn.

At the same time, his chest grew warm, his head spun slightly, and a buzzing filled his ears, as if he were about to hear again that terrifying voice—both infinitely distant and right beside him.

Lumian steadied himself, then suddenly remembered something:

The pollution within his body was sealed by the master of the black-green symbol; even when he delved deep into meditation or faced the Dance of Sacrifice, he could only make the thorn symbol protrude and leak a trace of its aura—he could not summon its power.

Could this ritual now bypass the seal and draw upon the “blessing”?

Unless the master of the black-green symbol—that great being—had already granted permission!

Recalling the confident demeanor of that mysterious woman, Lumian gained some confidence, even suspecting that the ritual itself contained a petition for the great being’s approval.

As for which part, his occult knowledge was insufficient to guess.

Within the ritual, Lumian dared not delay; after these thoughts flickered through his mind, he began chanting the next incantation in ancient Hermes language:

“You are the past, the present, and the future;

“You are the cause, the result, and the process.”

Each word echoed within the enclosed altar; the floor and all objects began to visibly writhe, as if countless strange entities were about to burst forth into this dreamlike ruin.

Whoo!

A black wind appeared out of nowhere, swirling around Lumian; the candle flame, compressed to peppercorn size, suddenly expanded, stained silver-white with streaks of black.

Lumian heard again that voice which always brought him to the brink of death and loss of control—but within the altar, faint gray mist had already risen, gathering entirely around him.

This placed his sensation between deep meditation and witnessing the “Noodle Man” dancing: not on the verge of death, yet far from comfortable—like enduring severe tinnitus, dizziness, nausea, and irritation to a critical degree, with his mind significantly disordered.

Forcing himself to maintain control, Lumian continued the ritual:

“I beseech you,

“Beseech you to grant me a blessing,

“Beseech you to bestow upon me the power of the ‘Dancer.’

“Tulip, herb of fate, transmit your power to my incantation!

“Gray amber, herb of fate, transmit your power to my incantation!”

As the ritual progressed, Lumian’s tinnitus and dizziness worsened; beneath his skin, it felt as if countless worms writhed.

Finally, he finished the incantation.

Almost instantly, the silver-black candle flame condensed into a beam of light, striking his left chest.

Instantly, a phantom liquid of silver and black oozed forth, swiftly enveloping Lumian, making him appear both sinister and terrifying.

He felt every inch of his skin pierced by needles, his muscles and tendons torn apart completely; the mysterious voice became crystal clear, as if ringing directly inside his mind.

Lumian was instantly consumed by excruciating pain, his consciousness nearly fading.

All his veins grew searing hot, as if burning from within outward.

This condition was far worse than the near-death state he’d experienced during deep meditation.

He could only grit his teeth and endure, desperately controlling his chaotic mind to avoid total loss of reason; everything else was beyond his concern.

Amid the storm-like assault, he became utterly disoriented, unaware of how much time had passed.

Finally, the terrible pain vanished; Lumian felt as if he had instantly shed a thousand jin of weight, or surfaced from underwater—suddenly light.

He swiftly regained his thoughts and looked up ahead.

The candle flame had returned to its original state, yet still bore the silver-white with black hue.

As soon as he regained clarity, Lumian stepped forward two paces and extinguished the candle representing himself, to prevent any mishap.

Then the one symbolizing the deity.

As he followed the ritual steps to conclude and dissolve the spiritual barrier, he felt mentally exhausted and physically aching, as if he had fought a monstrous battle.

Not long after, the table was cleared; Lumian began examining his condition and discovered he now possessed a wealth of new knowledge in his mind.

This knowledge primarily consisted of three parts:

The first was how to combine dance movements, rhythmic patterns, and one’s own spirituality to mobilize surrounding natural forces and pray to unspecified entities—this was the core knowledge of the “Dancer.” With it, Lumian could not only petition the Fate, but in the future, design entirely new sacrificial dances tailored to different circumstances and outcomes, to “please” other beings.

The second and third parts were examples of the first.

The former was what Lumian most desired: the mysterious dance performed by the “Noodle Man,” directly implanted into his mind, granting him immediate—but unrefined—mastery.

With this sacred dance, Lumian could now activate the black thorn symbol on his chest during exploration of the Dream Ruins, suppressing or weakening the powerful monster there.

The third part was another bizarre dance, one that resembled not pure sacrifice, but a hybrid of sacrifice and invocation.

By using it, Lumian could attract certain nearby entities, then, at the cost of blood, bind one to himself to harness its ability or trait.

Of course, the prerequisite is that Lumian must be able to withstand the possession; some entities, when attaching to a human, cause severe negative effects, and some refuse to leave—making matters far worse.

Thus, Lumian decided: until he understood the entities he summoned well enough to anticipate the problems they might cause, he would avoid attempting it—too dangerous.

The importance of occult knowledge became evident here; Lumian urgently needed works like the “Bestiary of the Occult” and the “Bestiary of the Spirit Realm,” but unfortunately, even the most knowledgeable “Witch” could not possibly know so much.

Immediately after, Lumian moved his body and found his flexibility had greatly improved.

Though he still fell far short of the “Noodle Man,” a mutated creature of reorganized organs, he surpassed nearly all normal humans and could now perform the sacred dance.

Pah—Lumian kicked his leg backward effortlessly and touched the back of his own head.

He nodded in satisfaction, murmuring silently to himself:

“Good. Many movements I could never do before are now possible; the Hunter’s combat ability has also strengthened considerably.”

Lumian began practicing the mysterious dance, adapting to his new body and refining the motions, hoping to shorten the time needed to complete a sequence.

Sometimes his movements were forceful and rhythmic, like combat; sometimes gentle and slow, as if expressing something—but all were perfectly timed.

As he danced, his spirituality began to spread outward, merging with certain natural forces around him.

Gradually, his thoughts sharpened, his mind grew serene, entering a state of ethereal wonder.

This allowed him to perceive subtle phenomena around him, as if opening spiritual sight.

Simultaneously, he seemed to connect with the invisible power within himself.

His chest warmed again; the terrifying voice whispered faintly, but too indistinct to be clear.

Huh… Lumian stopped dancing, unbuttoned his clothes, and gazed at his chest.

The black thorn symbol had indeed reappeared; the bluish-black one also slightly protruded in response.

Lumian’s mind grew momentarily disordered—but not severely—perfectly achieving his intended effect.

He then began timing the exact duration from the symbol’s appearance to its disappearance.

It lasted about one minute.

Buttoning his clothes, Lumian tested the other bizarre dance.

The dance alternated between manic, as if a madman performed it, and twisted, beyond description.

As he danced, his spirituality once again spread outward, merging with surrounding natural forces, “propagating” farther.

At the final third of the dance, he suddenly sensed strange entities approaching.

Three figures appeared on the glass of the first-floor window.

They were the skinless monster, the shotgun monster, and the monster with a black-marked mouth—but their forms were extremely blurred and translucent, clearly reduced to mere spiritual residue and obsession.

“Is this a victim’s accusation assembly?” Lumian chuckled inwardly upon recognizing what had been summoned.

At this moment, he need only draw his ritual silver dagger during the dance, cut himself, release a drop of blood, and one of the three figures could attach to him, granting him access to one of their abilities or traits.

Though Lumian coveted the mouth monster’s “invisibility,” he did not know what consequences might arise from possessing a monster he had killed—he could only forcibly suppress his impulse and complete the bizarre dance.

As he performed the final few movements, he suddenly heard faint, tiny voices.

It was as if many people were conversing somewhere, their words muffled through a wall—indistinct, unclear.

As Lumian strained to discern them, he realized these voices seemed to originate from within himself—from the sealed pollution!

With the final movement complete, Lumian stood still, murmuring in confusion:

“What did I just hear?”

He was a semi-literate in occult matters, utterly unable to deduce the source; he chose to abandon the thought—after all, it could not be more terrifying than the pollution itself.

When the faint voices finally faded, Lumian, having completed both sacred dances, confirmed that the “Dancer” had also enhanced his spirituality.

Though he still likely fell short of Sequence 9s renowned for their spirituality, he had broken free from the Hunter’s limitations.

He judged himself to be at a mid-to-upper level.

“My weakness has been remedied.” Lumian was very pleased.

He did not dwell on how his body might gradually mutate after bearing the “Dancer’s” power and suffering corresponding pollution—since it could not be prevented, better not to think.

Rubbing his weary head, Lumian decided to rest tonight and return to the real world to wait for that owl!

PS: Requesting monthly votes~

(End of Chapter)