Chapter 459 Price of Bestowment

A few seconds later, Lumian flashed a self-deprecating smile.

“At the very least, those monks at the Deep Valley Cloister are still discreet when they’re up to no good. It means they still have reservations, which suggests that the entirety of the God of Steam and Machinery Church isn’t problematic. A significant number of clergymen, or maybe even the majority, are normal.”

“I think so too,” Anthony Reid agreed, raising his hand and drawing a triangle on his chest.

Lumian continued, “At this point, this is no longer something a small team like ours can handle. It’s best to leave the Deep Valley Cloister’s problem to the Purifiers and the Machinery Hivemind.”

What he didn’t say was that the Tarot Club would keep a close watch. After all, no one knew how many hidden dangers were waiting to emerge within the two Churches. What if someone triggered them prematurely, delaying the investigation of the Deep Valley Cloister?

“Alright,” Franca concurred; it was her original plan to begin with.

With the plan confirmed, Franca and Jenna left Auberge du Coq Doré and returned to Rue des Blouses Blanches.

Lumian drew back the curtains, gazing at the crimson moon in the sky. Casually, he said to Anthony Reid, who was about to leave, “Your best option now is to head to Suhit’s steam locomotive station as soon as you wake up tomorrow and purchase a ticket to leave Trier. The sooner the departing train, the better.”

Anthony, dressed in military-green camouflage, halted in his tracks, slowly turning around, his gaze locked on Lumian’s retreating figure.

“Oh?”

Lumian poured himself a glass of light beer, which served as potable water, and took a sip. He continued to peer out the window and said, “You’ve been with us recently, and you’ve learned a lot. You should be able to discern the looming issue in Trier. The impending catastrophe will be dire. If you don’t depart quickly, you might never get the chance.

“As for seeking revenge, for finding Philip, who faked his death, we can wait until the catastrophe is over. There’s no rule stating you can’t return after leaving Trier.”

Anthony Reid fell into silence for a few seconds before slowly joining Lumian at his side. He too gazed at the night sky and asked, “Why aren’t you leaving?”

Lumian replied with a smirk, “Aren’t you a Spectator? Can’t you see we’re on a mission? How can we just leave Trier like that?”

Anthony turned his head to fix his stare on Lumian’s face and eyes, remaining silent for a long while.

Lumian held the light beer in his hand, his gaze still fixed outside the window. His eyes were vacant, and his focus seemed clouded.

After a while, he scoffed.

“Besides, I have the ability to survive such a disaster. I can protect Franca and Jenna, but only the two of them. Do you think you can compare to beautiful women who have a deeper relationship with me?”

His “protection” referred to teleporting Franca and Jenna to The Fool’s cathedral at the Lavigny Docks.

Anthony didn’t respond and looked at the dark sky outside once more.

Slowly, he retrieved a box of cigarettes from his shirt, took one out, placed it between his lips, and lit it with a match.

Taking a few deep breaths and exhaling white smoke, the Psychiatrist muttered to himself, “I was born and raised on the West Midseashire Coast. It’s an area with many industrial cities, where the God of Steam and Machinery has more believers than the Eternal Blazing Sun.

“The wind in Midseashire is fierce. Summers aren’t very hot, but they’re humid. Winters bring snow, and everything is covered in white. The surroundings are either thick forests or pockmarked with coal and iron ore mines.

“When I was fortunate enough to become a Beyonder, my greatest dream was to retire safely from the army with some savings. I’d buy land near my hometown, close to the forest. I’d hire a few people to help me with farming. In my free time, I’d secretly hunt in the forest, breathe the sea air, or go fishing. Heh heh, you might not know this, but the fish in Midseashire are inedible due to heavy industrial pollution. Locals only eat it if they have no other choice.”

Anthony Reid’s voice deepened.

“If I were to return to the West Midseashire Coast and my hometown now, I might never be able to enjoy such a life. It’s not about money; I need a sense of relaxation.

“I still have nightmares about our camp being ambushed, with corpses everywhere. Every time, I can feel my heart racing. I can imagine that if I leave tomorrow and see the news and photos of the Trier catastrophe in the newspapers, I’ll have similar nightmares. I’ll dream of Trier being incinerated by flames, with corpses strewn everywhere.

“That time, I fled out of fear. This time, I don’t want to do that again.”

Anthony Reid took another drag on his cigarette.

Without waiting for Lumian’s mockery, he added, “I’m well aware of my limitations, and all of this doesn’t directly concern me. However, I’ve been in Trier for several years. I know many informants, neighbors, and children who will trade information for sweets or coppet. I don’t want to hear about their deaths in a few days and see their pained faces when I close my eyes.

“I’ll do my best to cooperate with you and do what I can. Only when there’s no other choice will I consider retreating.

“You don’t need to understand. This might be the paranoid decision of a patient with severe psychological problems.”

Lumian chuckled and commented, “You make it sound as if nobody else has psychological problems.”

Before completing my treatment, my psychological problems were far worse than yours!

A smile appeared on Anthony Reid’s face.

“So, you chose to stay too, didn’t you?”

He turned around and left Room 207, puffing on his short cigarette.

Lumian relished the night view of Trier, the enduring cacophony of Rue Anarchie serving as a backdrop to his contemplation. He emptied his glass of light beer.

Then, he took his seat, drew the curtains, and commenced writing to Madam Magician.

“New leads…

“There are now three investigation directions:

“Firstly, the Deep Valley Cloister and the Sacred Heart Cloister.

“Secondly, I can use the strong connection between myself and the Hostel to infiltrate the underground route that Jenna followed when she encountered the monk by the river. By following my instincts, I can attempt to reach the Hostel directly.

“Thirdly, an assault on Gardner Martin. Since the Iron and Blood Cross Order collaborates with the Carbonari, which is linked to the Deep Valley Cloister incident, they might be involved and have valuable information.”

After dispatching the letter, Lumian paced his room, grappling with a mixture of worry, frustration, and anticipation.

Before long, Magician replied:

“We’ll take responsibility for the first direction. I refrained from mentioning the second direction because it poses a significant risk to you. Furthermore, Gabriel’s warning has likely been detected, so the Hostel will be on high alert against such intrusions.

“We can cautiously explore the third direction, but you must be well-prepared before confronting Gardner Martin.”

Silently, crimson flames erupted, setting the paper in Lumian’s hand ablaze. He planned to get some rest to recover from mental fatigue. At dawn, he would convene with Franca, Jenna, and Anthony to discuss their plan of action.

…

Apartment 601, 3 Rue des Blouses Blanches.

Franca hadn’t changed into her cotton pajamas; she was still dressed in her daytime attire.

Observing her pacing the room, Jenna asked, her brow furrowed in confusion, “What’s bothering you?”

Franca sighed and replied, “I intend to seek out Gardner now. Although Ciel didn’t mention it just now, I can sense that he will propose dealing with Gardner in the next two days. This is a clear breakthrough. Sigh, I must seize the opportunity to digest more Pleasure.”

Jenna regarded Franca’s profile, pursing her lips before changing the topic.

“Don’t you have many lovers? Even without Gardner Martin, there are others.”

Franca couldn’t help but clear her throat and smile wryly.

“Long gone, long gone. Gardner and his lovers are my current interests.”

Jenna chuckled and playfully teased, “Without Gardner Martin, you can turn to Ciel.”

“No, no!” Franca waved her hand vigorously. “I can’t get past myself.”

With those words, she headed toward the door.

“I’m going to Rue des Fontaines.”

Jenna’s smile faded as she offered a solemn reminder, “Don’t display any unusual behavior later.”

“I understand,” Franca replied, her expression turning serious. “I won’t let Gardner feel like I’m giving him hospice.”

With that, she opened the door and exited.

Jenna let out a soft sigh as she watched Franca vanish behind the closed door.

Then, her gaze turned to the grayish-white cloth bag on the coffee table, and she muttered to herself, I wonder when I’ll encounter Will to deliver this bag…

…

In the middle of the night, Jenna awoke suddenly from a vivid dream.

In her dream, she found herself in an underground quarry cave, with Will standing before her.

Although it was only a dream, Jenna had an uncanny sense of familiarity with the location and knew how to reach it in reality.

Understanding the significance of her dream, Jenna nodded slowly and changed into her female mercenary attire. Carrying the grayish-white cloth bag, she left Apartment 601 and ventured underground through the entrance on Rue des Blouses Blanches.

Following the revelations of her dream and guided by her spirituality, she descended, turned, and squeezed through gaps at times. Finally, she arrived at the quarry cave she had seen in her dream.

In the center of the mine, Will, dressed as he had been during the day, held an orange jack-o’-lantern. He didn’t appear particularly pleased, resembling a student caught playing hooky by parents and teachers.

“Is this what you want?” Jenna handed him the grayish-white cloth bag filled with various paints and brushes.

Will accepted it but didn’t open the bag. Instead, he retrieved an item known as the lucky gold coin and sighed.

“This is your reward.

“This is both your luck and misfortune. It signifies that you will encounter many things and bear significant responsibility.

“You may not fully grasp it now, but one day, you will.”

Ever since the heretics brought catastrophe to the market district, there’s been no turning back for me… Only by forging ahead in this perilous world of mysticism can I protect those I care about… Jenna silently mused, taking the Loen gold pound. She inspected it and inquired, “How should I use it?”

“Simply keep it with you,” Will advised, waving his hand before vanishing into the depths of the quarry cave, clutching his jack-o’-lantern.

Jenna stowed the lucky gold coin and made her way back to the surface. To her astonishment, she found that she couldn’t recall the route she had taken.

While she had arrived guided by her spirituality, she was now fully awake and devoid of the same guidance.

Jenna had no choice but to navigate her way independently, following a general principle of “ascending.”

After walking for some time, the ground suddenly shook violently, as if an explosion had occurred in the distance.

An earthquake or some other anomaly? Jenna furrowed her brow and quickened her pace to find a path leading upward.

As she turned a corner around a rock wall, her feet abruptly gave way.

The ground had already caved in, and now, it had completely collapsed.

Amidst the deafening sounds of collapse, Jenna couldn’t react in time and tumbled deeper as the ground disintegrated.

She swiftly adjusted her body and activated her Assassin abilities, allowing her to descend gracefully like a feather.

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