Chapter 81: The Sufferer (Fifth Update—Thank You, Golden Ally Under the Locust Tree)

When he felt the light dim, Lumian quickly opened his eyes.

The black robe worn by the “Invisible One” lay flat on the altar, its surface covered in charred marks, yet it did not cease—struggling to rise again despite the golden flames created by Valentine.

The transparent faces, including Raymond’s, continuously vanished and reappeared, as if returning from a destroyed “future” to an uneventful “present.”

Seeing this, Ryan immediately shouted low:

“Crouch!”

Lumian bent his knees without hesitation and dropped down.

Had there been time, he would have flattened himself against the ground.

Lyra and Valentine were no slower, crouching down as well.

At the same time, Ryan plunged his “Dawn Sword” into the center of the altar, piercing the black robe.

Without a sound, the giant blade of light shattered into countless fragments, transforming within the altar into a brilliant dawn storm that tore and destroyed everything.

When the wind of light subsided, Lumian looked up and saw the entire altar had sunk by a third—every thorn symbol, candle oil, and black robe gone, reduced to powder drifting in the air.

That move was incredibly powerful… Lumian had wanted to say that yesterday afternoon.

“Is it over?” he asked.

Lyra stood up, spinning in place; the four silver bells on her veil and boots chimed again—neither soothing nor intense.

“There’s still hidden danger,” she warned Ryan and Valentine, then murmured in confusion, “The altar’s gone—where could the danger come from?”

As she spoke, Valentine summoned golden flames that floated into the air, illuminating the surroundings.

Along the edges of the basement, there was nothing but stacked human bones and a few parchment sheets; the ceiling was simple and plain, even lacking a chandelier.

Lumian let out a soft “Huh?”

“No extraordinary characteristics?”

“Maybe they were sacrificed,” Ryan said simply. “Or perhaps they initially received little ‘blessing,’ were too weak, and could only capture ordinary people as offerings—until they gained stronger supernatural abilities, like now, and began targeting the extraordinary.”

It was clear they were not unfamiliar with the phenomenon of receiving “blessing.”

Ryan added quickly:

“No other discoveries so far. Let’s leave. No need to confront hidden dangers head-on.”

Lumian said nothing, scanning again, searching for traces of hidden doors.

The answer was none.

He led the way, guiding Lyra, Ryan, and Valentine along the safe route toward the basement exit.

As they stepped out onto the narrow, steep staircase, Ryan suddenly groaned in pain.

His body flew up on its own, slamming hard against the side of the basement’s brown wooden door, shaking the staircase area noticeably.

“Puff!”

Ryan’s chest appeared pierced by an invisible spear, revealing a grotesque wound that pinned him to the wall, blood gushing out.

Had he not reacted instantly—twisting his waist and body—he would have been impaled through the heart.

Yet Lyra, whose “Spirit Sight” had remained active, found no attacker at all!

It was as if Ryan were being punished by a deity.

Before they could identify the source, Lyra’s ever-smiling expression twisted instantly.

Her arms bent backward on their own.

A crack echoed—her bones broke, her arms hanging limp.

Immediately, her abdomen sank inward, as if struck by a massive fist, forcing her to stagger back and collide with the side wall.

Valentine, still on the stairs, screamed in agony.

His ribs collapsed inward one by one, as if hammered by a giant mallet.

With repeated pops, both Lyra and Valentine developed bloody wounds on their chests and abdomens—wounds that pierced clean through their bodies and embedded into the stone wall.

Lumian stared, stunned—bewildered by this inexplicable change, yet relieved that he himself seemed untouched by the strange attack.

Did the black thorn symbol protect me? He barely had the thought when he felt an invisible force shove him, pinning him against the side wall of the staircase.

In his “Spirit Sight,” there was nothing before him.

Remembering what had happened to Ryan and the others, Lumian immediately shifted his body sideways.

Intense pain flooded his mind—his right chest skin split open, flesh tore apart, revealing glimpses of his lung.

Lumian felt as if a solid rod had pierced him, nailing him to the wall.

As his crimson blood flowed, Ryan filled the area with dawn-like specks of light—effective at repelling evil and dispelling illusions.

Yet all four still saw nothing.

Boom!

Ryan’s chest was struck by an invisible hammer, caving inward deeply.

As the silver bells on Lyra’s veil and boots rang violently, invisible forces pried off her fingernails one by one, staining them with blood.

The indescribable pain made her lose control of her face—her features twisted in terror.

Valentine opened his arms, inviting a divine column of light to descend upon him.

The sun’s radiance erupted, purging all evil and igniting Valentine’s body.

Yet even beneath the “sun’s” light, his hands involuntarily snapped backward, pressing flat against the wall.

Two bloody holes appeared at his wrists, pinning them to the surface.

When the light faded, Valentine’s face was blackened, his skin being peeled away inch by inch, forcibly stripped.

Seeing their suffering, Lumian couldn’t help but wince in sympathy.

Whether due to the black thorn symbol’s protection or not, he fared relatively better—only being slapped repeatedly by invisible hands: left, right, left, right—until his cheeks swelled, his teeth loosened, and he could no longer speak.

Just as a new wave of attack loomed, Lumian’s vision blurred—he saw a wasteland.

In the distance, mountains; nearby, green grass stretching across the wasteland.

Two horned, devil-like creatures pulled a dark red, open-topped carriage shaped like a conch shell, racing swiftly toward Lumian and the others.

Sitting in the carriage was a woman in a fresh green dress, wearing a crown of flowers; her brown hair was tied high, her brown eyes bright and moist, her demeanor noble and commanding—clearly a much more mature version of Mrs. Pualis.

She kept her promise and came to offer help? Lumian was first surprised, then delighted to realize the invisible force had stopped attacking them.

For some reason, he never felt this woman was truly Mrs. Pualis—or not entirely. She resembled Mrs. Pualis fused with some alien will, an unnatural creation.

Compared to the original, Lumian preferred calling her “Lady Night.”

Unlike their previous encounter in the Otherworld, Mrs. Pualis now held in one hand an oak branch entwined with mistletoe, and in the other, a small bowl made of green jade.

Inside the bowl shimmered liquid that glinted like rippling waves.

Mrs. Pualis dipped the oak branch into the jade bowl, sprinkling the liquid over Lumian and the others.

After three sprinklings, Lumian noticed his chest wound healing rapidly, his swollen face fading, and the sensation of being nailed to the wall vanishing.

Lyra, Ryan, and Valentine were likewise fully healed, showing no trace of their brutal injuries.

“What attacked us?” Lumian asked, thinking it couldn’t hurt to ask.

Mrs. Pualis, seated in the dark red carriage, spoke with condescending calm:

“You’ve absorbed a trace of the ‘Sufferer’s’ aura. Fortunately, only a trace—if it had been more, you’d need to consider restarting.”

“The ‘Sufferer’s’ aura? What’s that?” Lumian glanced at Ryan and the others; they too looked baffled.

Mrs. Pualis replied softly:

“I know no more than that.”

“Then do you know what happened to the dead wizards and owls in the graveyard?” Lumian asked next.

Mrs. Pualis looked at him:

“If I knew, this wouldn’t have happened. I originally planned to make this place my ‘domain,’ but now I must leave.”

Make it your domain? Lumian’s heart jolted—he suddenly felt being trapped in the cycle wasn’t entirely terrible:

“If Mrs. Pualis had truly succeeded, Aurora and I wouldn’t even know how many children we’d have by now!”

“Compared to that outcome, being trapped in a cycle that might destroy us at any moment isn’t so unbearable.”

“At least I’d die clean!”

Mrs. Pualis glanced at Lyra and the others, then fell silent, letting the two devil-like black creatures pull the conch-shaped carriage into the depths of the wasteland.

As her figure vanished from Lumian’s sight, the wasteland disappeared.

At that moment, they realized they were still inside the basement—halfway up the stairs, near the wooden door.

Had it not been for the bloodstains and fallen fingernails on the ground and walls, they would have believed the entire episode was merely a vivid hallucination.

“Let’s leave,” Ryan snapped back to himself, instructing Valentine, “Clean up our traces.”

Valentine nodded, summoning phantom golden flames to burn away the blood and nails.

On their way back to the church, they were not attacked again.

The trace of “Sufferer’s” aura had either been consumed or cleansed by Mrs. Pualis’s liquid.

As Lumian prepared to slip out through the side door, he suddenly saw Assistant Priest Michel Gariq standing outside the room holding several unconscious servants, staring blankly inside.

Did this guy come back after stuffing his face? Lumian was about to avoid him when Michel Gariq, with his brown curls and delicate features, sharply turned his head and spotted them.

Ryan moved to knock him out, but Michel Gariq grinned with unnatural enthusiasm:

“You’ve come to pray? Need confession?”

Everyone else in the church was unconscious—and you care about confession? Lumian stared at Michel as if he were a madman.

Compared to last time, his abnormality was now unmistakable!

PS: Fifth update—please vote for monthly tickets~ Also, the first update for tomorrow will be at 00:05.

(End of Chapter)