Chapter 95: The Premature Sacrifice (Requesting Monthly Votes)

Gazing at the sheep pen now reduced to a pile of straw and scattered droppings, Ryan frowned and said:

“The underground altar was repaired that quickly?”

He suspected the three sheep had been taken for sacrifice.

“Those cultists of the dark gods may possess some special abilities,” Valentine replied with clear disgust.

Listening to their conversation, Lumian suddenly recalled the faint sheep cry he’d heard last night.

Could that have been the sound made by one of them during the sacrifice? He shared this suspicion with Ryan and Valentine.

“Unlikely,” Ryan shook his head. “The church is hundreds of meters from your house, and the altar is underground.”

He meant that even if the “Hunter” had enhanced hearing, it was impossible to hear sounds originating from beneath the church.

Lumian himself believed the same, yet that couldn’t explain why he’d heard the sheep cry—nor why, at the same moment, his chest had burned intensely and the black thorn symbol had partially activated.

This couldn’t be faked!

The heat… Lumian’s mind stirred—he remembered certain things the mysterious woman had said:

“Pray to yourself… proximity principle…”

Coupling this with the memory of how the black thorn symbol had also surfaced during his ritual to invoke the “Dancer’s” power, he formed a new hypothesis:

His ability to hear the sheep cry during the sacrifice stemmed from a metaphysical connection!

In simple terms: when the parish priest and others performed the ritual, petitioning the hidden entity, the proximity principle also targeted the corruption within Lumian, partially activating the black thorn symbol—thus allowing him to faintly hear the sheep cry from such a distance.

Since he hadn’t responded, nor knew how to respond—after all, the corruption was sealed by the master of the cyan-black pattern—the parish priest’s ritual ultimately still “connected” to the hidden entity.

Once the ritual ended, the heat in Lumian’s chest naturally faded.

So it seemed last night there had been no invisible, eerie force invading Aurora’s room—only my own anomaly partially triggered by their ritual… Lumian finally understood the sequence of events.

At that moment, Ryan reminded his companions:

“It appears our exploration of the church’s underground has made the parish priest and his group feel a strong sense of crisis—they repaired the altar and petitioned for power ahead of schedule.”

“From now on, we must be twice as cautious. Don’t assume danger will only escalate as Lent approaches.”

“If not for fear of restarting the cycle, we’d have eliminated them already!” Valentine said with bitter resentment.

Then he added gloomily:

“Can we please stop calling that servant of the dark god ‘parish priest’? He doesn’t deserve the title!”

Why, then, did someone unworthy become the parish priest? Lumian dared not voice the thought.

He wasn’t afraid this time—mainly, he wanted to preserve his image in Valentine’s eyes, since he might later need to persuade this fanatic to do something, like using suicide to verify the nature of the cycle.

Ryan nodded:

“Let’s hurry to visit Madame Poularis to restock food and clean water. Afterward, avoid going out unless absolutely necessary.”

Lumian said nothing more, turned, and left through the back door of Pierre Béry the shepherd’s house, heading toward the hill where the castle stood.

Passing through the vibrant garden, the three arrived before the gate, which was only half-open, and addressed the male servant in a red coat and white trousers:

“We need to speak with Madame Poularis.”

“Wait a moment,” the servant glanced at Ryan and Valentine, then hurriedly turned and vanished through the doorway.

Soon after, the “midwife,” dressed in a gray-white long dress, stepped out.

Compared to last time, her face had grown even more bluish, her gaze wooden and chilling.

Had Lumian not previously warned Ryan and Valentine that the “midwife” was still alive, they would have been startled.

Merely corpses reanimated as zombies—they’d seen plenty. The “Sun Cleric” specialized in such cases; Valentine had purified dozens, if not a hundred, of similar things. But a human reduced to chunks of flesh regaining their original form, appearing more lifelike than a corpse—this was beyond their current understanding.

The “midwife” opened her mouth and spoke in a flat, emotionless tone:

“Madam does not wish to see you. Go home.”

“We have something important,” Lumian said bluntly. “Is Madame Poularis not concerned that the entity beneath will disrupt her future plans?”

The “midwife” maintained the same tone:

“Madam says it will not affect her.”

Hearing this, Lumian felt a sudden, icy chill run through his entire body.

It meant they would find it extremely difficult to gain the aid of Madame Poularis, a powerful figure.

Lumian smiled, showing no trace of despair or dejection, and looked at the “midwife”:

“But we may explore the tomb chamber.”

He implied that if anything happened during the exploration, the cycle might restart prematurely.

The “midwife’s” expression remained unchanged—stiff, unyielding:

“You may try. The result will only disappoint you.”

What did that mean? Lumian couldn’t immediately grasp what Madame Poularis intended.

Was she saying: go ahead and explore, and she’d offer some help at a critical moment—but you won’t find any valuable clues? The more Lumian thought, the more he felt this couldn’t be her meaning—if so, she wouldn’t have directly refused the meeting request through the “midwife.”

Before Lumian could consider other possibilities, Ryan asked cautiously:

“Is Madame Poularis telling us that the entity—or entities—inside the tomb chamber can easily control us and stop our investigation without triggering the cycle?”

“Yes.” The “midwife” slowly nodded, turned, and walked into the depths of the castle.

Lumian, Valentine, and Ryan exchanged glances, all feeling a quiet sense of helplessness as they left.

Their next destination was the old tavern, where they could buy many ingredients and barrels of cheap wine.

—Compared to easily spoiled clean water, wine was easier to store; as long as the alcohol content wasn’t too high, it could later serve as a water substitute.

Entering the old tavern, Lumian immediately scanned the room—no sign of the mysterious woman.

He sighed slightly, then walked to the bar and told the owner, Maurice Béné, what he wished to purchase.

While Ryan and Valentine carried out the wine barrels, Lumian lowered his voice and asked:

“Where’s the other woman?”

Maurice Béné shook his head:

“I don’t know. Maybe in her room, maybe elsewhere in the village, maybe even in Liège. Her rent’s paid until the 9th—she can do whatever she wants.”

The 9th? The Twelfth Night? Lumian nodded thoughtfully.

April 9 was the date he and Aurora had calculated as the so-called “Twelfth Night.”

This also meant March 29 was indeed the first day of the cycle.

And if Ryan and the other two outsiders hadn’t happened to enter Cordeux Village on the first day of some cycle, then it meant that whenever an outsider entered this area, the cycle would immediately restart on March 29.

“Oh!” Lumian slapped his forehead and said to the tavern owner Maurice Béné, “My stomach’s upset—I need the latrine. Tell them to wait for me.”

Maurice Béné gave him a look that said, “Here we go again, what mischief is this boy up to?”

“Don’t cause trouble here!”

The downside of a bad reputation surfaced again… Lumian chuckled:

“Relax, I just need the latrine!”

As he spoke, he waved and slipped quickly toward the staircase entrance.

He did need the latrine—but the one upstairs.

Maurice Béné glanced at his back and muttered:

“Spring’s here, this damn kid’s gone wild…”

His voice was just loud enough for Lumian to hear.

On the second floor, Lumian arrived opposite the latrine and stood before the mysterious woman’s room.

Knock knock knock—he tapped on the door.

No response.

Seeing no “Do Not Disturb” sign on the handle, he knocked twice more, each time louder.

Unfortunately, the mysterious woman never appeared.

Lumian thought for a moment, pulled out a thin piece of wire, and jiggled it in the lock.

The door creaked open—empty inside, no one there.

The bedcovers were neatly folded, as if no one had slept there in weeks.

Lumian exhaled silently, didn’t enter, and closed the door.

…………

In the afternoon, under the pretext of teaching Lumian Hermesian and urgently boosting his strength, the siblings gathered in Aurora’s bedroom.

Lumian lowered his voice and recounted the key points of his exploration in the dream ruins to his sister, then asked:

“Do you have anything to add? About hunting the flame monsters.”

Even with preparation, the “Fallen Mercury,” and the “Invisibility” ability, he still lacked confidence in killing the flame monsters.

That was a sequence-level transformation of the “Hunter” path!

Aurora smiled:

“You’ve considered everything. The only thing I can add is…”

She raised her hands, clenched into fists, and gave them a little shake:

“Go for it!”

“…“ Lumian was defeated by his sister’s habit of joking at such moments.

Yet his inner tension eased somewhat.

Aurora continued:

“The rest is just the usual clichés:

“Be careful. Be careful. Absolutely be careful.”

She sighed immediately:

“What a pity—the mysterious lady isn’t here; otherwise, I could have crafted a few simple, auxiliary runes to go with the ‘Pin of Integrity’ and let you take them into the dream.”

“Yes.” Lu Mi, though disappointed, was not discouraged and had no intention of abandoning his plan.

…………

That night, at around nine fifty, Lu Mi left Aurora’s bedroom and headed for the washroom.

He intended to empty his lower abdomen’s burden before his watch.

Under the crimson moonlight, the washroom was dim, with only the area around the toilet clearly visible.

Lu Mi moved closer and unfastened his belt.

Behind him, the shadow on the wall suddenly writhed, forming a figure raising an axe!

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(End of Chapter)