Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability - Chapter 344

344 Boxing Gloves
“Not by the Loen army…” Anthony Reid muttered under his breath, his eyes distant.

The night of the attack had haunted his dreams, replaying over and over, each iteration etching the brutality and mercilessness of the Loen soldiers into his consciousness. These nightmares had grown, evolving into an inescapable nightmare. And now, shockingly, someone was telling him that they were not Loen soldiers!

Franca’s demeanor, the subtle shifts in her expressions and body language—it all told him that Franca wasn’t lying; she wasn’t bluffing him!

This revelation rendered his years of suffering, of misattributed blame, into a cruel jest.

As a Psychiatrist, Anthony Reid was acutely attuned to the waves of disillusionment that crashed through his psyche. His emotional stability quivered, struck by a potent aftershock.

Instinctively, he used Placate on himself.

As Anthony Reid struggled to “save” himself, Franca elaborated, “Either the battle’s secrecy is of the highest order, barring my Loenese friend from obtaining the truth for now, or a different faction entirely orchestrated the assault on your unit.”

Her inclination leaned toward the latter possibility. In the grand scheme of the Loen Kingdom, this skirmish was a minor one. Anthony’s company held no strategic value, no pivotal figures, so there was no reason for a high-level concealment.

“Who could it be?” Jenna had already raised this question after reading the telegram, but both of them couldn’t come up with a reasonable answer.

She even speculated that an Instigator might have sowed seeds of internal discord amidst the Intis army to digest a potion. This made one of the companies impersonate as Loenese soldiers, launching a deadly nocturnal assault on Anthony Reid and his comrades.

However, this was far too difficult. No matter how formidable an Instigator was, there was no hope of success unless Anthony Reid’s company had discovered evidence of someone’s serious crimes or formed a deep feud with other companies due to conflicts on the battlefield.

“Indeed, who could it be…” Anthony Reid, now more composed thanks to his Placate, intoned with a voice etched in determination.

He understood why the Loen army would attack him and his comrades—their animosity, though intense, was comprehensible within the context of war. But an attack from an unknown faction? That puzzled him.

Franca pondered for a moment and said, “Did your unit forsake allies on the battlefield? Or perhaps lay claim to spoils of war that weren’t rightfully yours?”

Anthony Reid ruminated briefly before shaking his head resolutely. “No.”

Lumian chimed in with conviction, “Absolutely not. This ties back to Hugues Artois. It can’t be a squabble between comrades or external rivals.”

Jenna, absorbed in contemplation, posed another question, “Did you defy Hugues Artois’s orders? Or did your actions inadvertently cost him something?”

Anthony Reid shook his head again.

“If I had, I wouldn’t have grappled with years of puzzlement.”

Silence enveloped Apartment 601, a contemplative hush broken only by Lumian’s recollection. A shard of Madam Magician’s prior words tugged at his thoughts, and he ventured,

“Could it be a sacrificial rite? A blood offering to an evil god?”

Madam Magician had mentioned that Sinners, a secret organization devoted to evil gods, emerged in the war’s later phases. The conflict had unwittingly provided opportunities for these evil gods to infiltrate the realm. Could Anthony Reid and his comrades have stumbled upon one of these opportunities?

“Blood sacrifice…” Franca and Jenna recalled the support various evil god factions had given Hugues Artois.

Had he forged an alliance with these heretics? Did he sacrifice his own company?

Anthony Reid fell silent for a moment before saying, “The heretics, disguised as the Loen army, orchestrated our annihilation with Hugues Artois’s complicity?”

Franca said insightfully, “It’s the most logical explanation, though the question remains—who gains? Certainly not Hugues Artois. He reaped no boons, not even in death.”

For a moment, no one could answer Franca’s question.

After a few seconds, Lumian said, “That’s one of the avenues we must delve into as we proceed. It might intertwine with Hugues Artois’s ascent to power and his parliamentary role.”

Upon hearing this, Jenna recounted the information she had obtained from the Purifiers and concluded, “The pressing issue lies in the fact that General Philip, who seems the most suspicious, is already deceased. It’s as if all the threads converge at a sudden dead-end.”

“He died just in time.” Franca chuckled. “A pre-emptive elimination, perhaps?”

Lumian stroked his chin and spoke slowly, “In the world of mysticism, certain deaths don’t necessarily mean true demise.”

Madam Justice had mentioned that an evil god’s boon had a Deceased Sequence. They could use death to escape their original fate.

Similarly, if General Philip had used the Substitution Spell, the one who died might not be the real him.

Franca, who had previously helped with finishing Guillaume Bénet, immediately understood.

“Substitution Spell?”

“We cannot dismiss the possibility.” Lumian smiled. “Our immediate objective remains the investigation of General Philip, ascertaining the truth of his demise. Even if he is truly dead, there may be traces he left behind, undiscovered by the Purifiers due to the constraints imposed on them.”

Anthony Reid, though still grappling with the shattering revelations, felt the warmth of unity and purpose in his companions’ discourse. It bolstered his resolve, a spark of renewed determination igniting within him.

He nodded slightly and said, “There’s no need to rush. This matter must be very complicated. I’ll first gather preliminary information about General Philip, his family, and friends.”

After Anthony Reid took his leave, Lumian observed Franca preparing to head to Rue des Fontaines in search of Gardner Martin, so he left Apartment 601 with her.

As they walked down the stairs, Lumian broached the subject of his conversation with Hela, sharing the details with Franca.

Her excitement burgeoned as she absorbed his words, a fervor building within her.

“Great! Great! Quickly transform into Muggle. Let’s make contact with April Fool’s together!”

“Why are you so excited?” Lumian glanced at him.

Franca made a tongue-clicking sound and chuckled.

“Back home, there’s a saying that goes— if you get drenched in the rain, rip up someone else’s umbrella. Haha, it’s all in jest, but isn’t it interesting? Even though your appearance leans towards masculinity, a few simple adjustments can render you strikingly beautiful. Once the Pyromaniac potion has been digested, have you not considered having a potion of Pleasure? Sigh, forget it. There’s still some risk before reaching Sequence 4.”

Laughter and jesting flowed between them, Franca’s demeanor then taking a more serious turn as they reached the street

“Furthermore, you’re one of the few people I can trust now. If I could obtain your direct collaboration in our probe of the April Fool’s conundrum, I’d feel significantly more secure. Unfortunately…”

“Unfortunately…” Lumian echoed the sentiment, a tinge of regret shading his words.

His curiosity then led him to inquire about Emperor Roselle and the perplexing attitudes of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society members.

Franca’s expression turned strange, as if she struggled to suppress a bout of laughter.

After a moment, she exhaled and said, “This matter is quite complicated. It’s difficult to explain in a few words. I’ll explain in detail tomorrow or the day after tomorrow when I’m free. In short, be mentally prepared.”

“How complicated can it be?” Lumian muttered. He bade Franca farewell and commenced his journey toward Rue Anarchie.

Upon reaching Room 207 at Auberge du Coq Doré, despite having already deciphered the issue with Aurore’s grimoires and no longer needing to delve into them, Lumian’s habits dictated that he retrieve the copies and skim through their contents, his thoughts wandering amidst the scattered pages.

Approaching midnight, a stirring within Lumian’s heart drew his gaze toward the carbide lamp.

The light it emitted bore a dark green hue.

The “doll” messenger, clad in a light-gold dress, suddenly materialized. It glared coldly at Lumian, as if striving to contain its emotions.

With twin thuds, a pair of iron-black boxing gloves, adorned with multiple short thorns, landed soundlessly on the table. The impact carried a resonance more akin to wood meeting wood than metal striking wood.

Simultaneously, a folded sheet of paper drifted toward Lumian.
“Thank you.” Although the “doll” messenger quickly vanished, Lumian still expressed his gratitude politely.

He refrained from touching the boxing gloves for now, opting to unfold the piece of paper and peruse the contents of Madam Magician’s message.

“The Shadow Branch and the Lucky One Beyonder characteristic have been made into a mystical item.

“How does it fare? Has its form been modified, rendering it more convenient for transport? This is a masterpiece forged by a master.

“It remains nameless for now. With common words, you could dub it the ‘Lucky Shadow Boxing Glove.’ For a touch of panache, ‘Flog’ could be a stylish choice. The name is yours to determine.

“Any target struck by this glove, regardless of creating injuries, whether they defend with a weapon or not, will undergo a surge of desire or emotion. The specific emotion hinges on your luck. Yet, with the presence of Lucky One, you can envision or simulate the corresponding desires and emotions ahead of time, guiding the target’s reaction. The success rate stands impressively high—around 70 to 80%.

“Following the trigger of a target’s desires or emotions, a second strike won’t engender new feelings. Instead, there’s a likelihood of causing the pre-existing desires or emotions to erupt. This unleashes an overwhelming tidal wave on most targets, inflicting significant harm, even rendering them temporarily incapacitated.

“While the likelihood of invoking desire or emotion with each hit isn’t substantial, repetitive blows will eventually yield the desired outcome—unless you are cursed with bad luck that counteracts the influence of Lucky One.

“However, the glove’s most exceptional facet isn’t its offensive potential, but its defensive capabilities. It possesses unparalleled sturdiness, capable of withstanding an assault from a Reaper without incurring any damage. (Note: Reaper refers to Sequence 5 of the Hunter pathway.) Naturally, this hinges on the attack squarely targeting the glove. In such a scenario, there’s even a possibility of taking a strike infused with godhood, at the expense of shattering or fracturing the glove. This probably places the glove at Sequence 4.

“On the downside, carrying the glove will erode your self-control, intensifying the oscillations of various desires and emotions. Withstanding this requires exceptional endurance. Moreover, while donning the glove, you will attract the attention of a hidden entity since it originated from the Tree of Shadow. While They cannot directly harm you for various reasons, They can summon dangerous entities to your vicinity, influencing or attacking you.

“Hence, each use of the boxing gloves should be accompanied by a change of location, and their usage should not be for extended periods. Failure to adhere to these guidelines may attract hidden dangers. However, should you maintain your composure and endure one or two attacks, the world will expel those dangerous entities who can’t truly descend here.

“Ah, one last detail—your two Psychiatrists request a final follow-up consultation at the usual time tomorrow afternoon.”