448 The Power of Painting

The next morning.

Lumian changed into fresh attire. As he prepared to depart, a surprise greeted him when the “doll” messenger materialized from the wall, delivering a meticulously folded letter.

Madam Magician has unearthed clues from Bouvard’s tainted remains? Lumian’s spirits soared with anticipation. He expressed his gratitude to the messenger and proceeded to unravel the letter’s contents.

“We possess limited knowledge regarding the evil gods beyond the barrier. The Hostel and its location still eludes us, but we have formulated some conjectures.

“In examining Bouvard Pont-Péro’s corrupted remains, I discerned a corruption bearing a resemblance to the Apprentice pathway—a contamination from alternate dimensions and spacetime. Had I not intervened, unless it had manifested and attacked, you would not have been able to make direct contact with it.

“In the past, we’ve encountered similar instances, primarily involving artists, writers, and avid readers.

“We’ve observed that painters often descend into madness, but due to their artistic disposition, their ramblings and abstract fantasies often go unnoticed. Some of these musings unveil profound truths about our world, while others exert an uncanny influence on their surroundings, turning the fictional into reality. They emerge from canvases or pages, though their presence typically has a time limit.

“An example involved an artist who, under the influence of a psychotropic substance, painted an indescribable creature. This entity materialized from the canvas, murdering its creator and any other living beings in the apartment.

“I once encountered a perilous artwork, a Sealed Artifact that resembled a painting. The deity portrayed within it came to life and vanished, thankfully without triggering a catastrophe.

“Similarly, while confronting a deranged heretic, we encountered Gehrman Sparrow, the Queen of Ailment, and various characters and scenes that were originally confined to novels within the structure he inhabited.

“Fortunately, these manifestations lacked the full potency of their original counterparts. They possessed only a rudimentary semblance of their appearance, personalities, and abilities.

“It was confirmed that these creations were the handiwork of a deranged bestowed of an evil god. He had been a fervent reader of novels and, upon losing his sanity, instinctively recreated a fantastical realm within his abode, mirroring the content of the novels.

“From this standpoint, it also bears some resemblance to the Spectator pathway, but it is fundamentally distinct. One derives its power primarily from the mind, while the other seems to harness the qualities and might of alternate dimensions or alternate spaces to manifest entities. Initially, it might function as a gateway or perilous portal, but in time, it could evolve into a near-real alternate space or even an entirely separate world.”

As Lumian absorbed the contents of the letter, his eyelids twitched with a whirlwind of thoughts.

His initial reaction: Is this something I can read?

While some portions seemed manageable, others, particularly the elaborate examples and analysis, left Lumian’s mind in turmoil. His heart raced, and he felt a peculiar tightness in his skin.

A deity from a painting coming to life and stepping into reality?

Is it that terrifying?

If the painting hadn’t been sealed, wouldn’t it be able to destroy the entirety of Trier?

Given more time, the entire world might have been finished!

Amidst this mental storm, Lumian’s mind struck upon an idea.

What if I captured a skilled painter with similar powers and got them to create a flawless replica of Aurore’s oil painting? Could this act bring Aurore back into reality?

It was akin to a resurrection.

After a tense pause lasting over ten seconds, Lumian released a long, contemplative sigh.

While his heart pulsated with the desire to attempt such a feat, rationality won the battle within his mind. The Aurore “resurrected” through this method would likely be a perilous entity, masquerading as Aurore, rather than the genuine person. If it was merely her appearance he sought, he could achieve it at any time with Lie’s abilities.

If it was merely her appearance he sought, he could achieve it at any time with Lie’s abilities.

In the wake of this realization, Lumian’s thoughts turned to a mystical item he hadn’t employed in quite some time: the Mystery Prying Glasses!

The brown gold-rimmed Mystery Prying Glasses, originating from a deceased Beyonder, held a mysterious and intriguing history. Its previous owner had crafted an oil painting infused with madness, vibrant colors, and a mesmerizing, psychedelic pattern before their untimely demise.

When Lumian put on these Mystery Prying Glasses, the world around him transformed, revealing hidden truths that were once invisible. Occasionally, these revelations kindled a desire to sketch, resulting in drawings imbued with supernatural power, each with unique effects. For instance, they could cause an itching sensation across his body, ushering in warmth and radiant sunlight, aligning with Madam Magician’s account of paintings by evil god bestowed that influenced their surroundings.

With the abilities granted by the Niese Face and Lie earring, Lumian no longer required the Mystery Prying Glasses for disguise. However, he retrieved them from his pocket and pondered for a moment.

Was its original owner a bestowed of a Hostel-related pathway, or did it come into contact with a corresponding item and suffer a certain level of corruption?

Yes, I’ll report to Mr. K later and inquire about further details. Uh… The Aurora Order is fanatical about hunting heretics. Perhaps they possess more information about evil gods than the Tarot Club. Mr. K might know something about the Hostel…

Lumian was part of four different secret organizations and could gather information from four unusually well-developed information systems. As a result, he didn’t have an urgent need to participate in mysticism gatherings. He only visited occasionally to join in the fun and listen to rumors and stories.

After stowing the Mystery Prying Glasses, Lumian continued reading the letter’s content.

“Until now, the evil god bestowed following this pathway have been relatively passive, avoiding bloodshed and not frequently engaging in sacrificial rituals. Even if they did, it was usually confined to themselves and those in their immediate vicinity, minimizing the danger.

“However, their nature may not be as ‘harmless’ as previously believed. They could pose a significant threat.

“You might want to consult Termiboros about the Hostel. He possesses the most extensive knowledge of these evil gods and their bestowed. Although, don’t be surprised if He chooses not to share.”

Lumian set the letter ablaze with crimson flames and whispered with a chuckle, “Termiboros, do you know the meaning of Hostel and its association with which evil god?”

Termiboros’s majestic voice resounded. “Not an evil god, but a great existence.”

After retorting, He answered Lumian’s question, “I’m aware.”

Then, there was nothing else.

This provoked Lumian.

Was I hoping to hear you say you are aware or not? What I wanted to know what it represents and to which pathway it belongs!

After pressing further, Termiboros asked in a deep voice, “Do you truly wish to know?”

Lumian, sensing danger, responded cautiously, “There’s no need for an honorific name or other details about the evil god. Just describe the situation and characteristics of the corresponding pathway of Hostel.”

Termiboros fell silent, withholding the requested information.

Lumian scoffed, believing that the entity’s response indicated: “I have nothing to lose. Why not give it a shot? What if my vessel suddenly turned foolish?” Termiboros had no intention of revealing details about Hostel.

He exhaled and left Room 207, prepared to find Mr. K for further guidance.

…

As Lumian made his way to Avenue du Boulevard, Franca had already met up with Browns Sauron.

Both were clad in hunting attire, armed with double-barreled shotguns, and positioned at the edge of the East Lognes Forest, where they took aim at wild deer hidden behind the trees.

“Browns, when will you f*cking end my assessment?” Franca stressed her original gender with a touch of stereotypical vulgarity.

Browns, her orange-red hair mostly concealed beneath a deerstalker hat, peered forward and responded, “Soon, soon.”

Franca, her frustration palpable, retorted, “Does the high-ranking Demoness in charge of Trier want to keep testing me indefinitely, or are you playing tricks?”

Browns, her trigger finger poised, stopped abruptly, a subtle change in her expression evident.

“Could it really be you?” Franca exclaimed in surprise.

Browns replied solemnly, “I merely suggested it. The higher-ups agreed.”

“Why on earth would she agree to such an absurd proposal? Is she your mother?” Franca cursed.

Bang! Browns squeezed the trigger, and the bullet pierced through the forest, narrowly missing the wild deer.

Watching this, Franca mused, Could they really be related, or perhaps they’re intimate lovers?

The Demoness Sect is essentially a family, and it’s common for members to have some familial connections…

The Sauron family once held sway in the neighboring Assassin pathway, so it’s not inconceivable that the Demoness Sect has infiltrated certain branches over the years.

Observing Franca’s silence, Browns cleared her throat and made an offer, “If you promise not to partake in the Red House Café’s orgies, your assessment will end this week.”

“…” Franca fought the urge to curse and burst into laughter instead. “Haha, I’d call you ‘pure,’ but you’re quite the expert in female orgies. As for ‘promiscuous,’ you’re selective with your participants.”

Without waiting for Browns’s reply, Franca continued, “I can promise that. Besides, I can organize orgies myself.”

Her true intentions were rooted in the impending catastrophe that might engulf Trier in a week or two. She needed to swiftly infiltrate the Demoness Sect and procure valuable information. After the crisis subsided, and if she was still alive, she could contemplate participating in Browns’s orgies.

A true man could be indulgent and flashy, but when necessary, he could bear personal hardships.

Browns turned her head to scrutinize Franca, who met her gaze without a hint of guilt.

After almost ten seconds, Browns whispered, “Remember what you just said.”

Franca responded with a smile, signifying her agreement.

With the assessment period now set to conclude, Franca raised her shotgun and shared,

“Some time ago, Ciel and I ventured into the catacombs and reached the Krismona Night Pillar. I had a peculiar feeling about that pillar. Could it have been left behind by a Fourth Epoch Demoness?”

After hearing about the sigh from Jenna, Franca had become intrigued by the Krismona Night Pillar.

“Ciel? Your lover?” Browns turned to Franca.

Franca replied candidly, “Yes.”

Browns fell into a brief silence before revealing, “Krismona is indeed a Fourth Epoch Demoness. S-She is the child of the Goddess.”

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