Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability - Chapter 485
485 Night Pillar
The intensifying gray fog at the core that spread to every corner of Fourth Epoch Trier didn’t faze Gardner Martin, wrapped in sleek silver-white full-body armor. Instead of alarm, delight surged within him. Since the invasion of the power from Building 13 on Avenue du Marché, and being able to hear the great voice, such scenes had frequented his dreams. It felt like returning home, the door wide open for him.
Without hesitation, Gardner Martin sprinted toward the heart of Fourth Epoch Trier, heading for the land of the fallen god.
…
Through a street so narrow that the residents in the houses on both sides could almost reach out and shake hands, Lumian and his companions sprinted forward.
After only a dozen steps, Lumian sensed an intangible force emanating from the pitch-black gray fog. It was like the countless arms of a terrifying entity, gently and methodically caressing every living being to determine its prey.
Lumian’s scalp tingled. Even with his clothes providing cover, goosebumps erupted where the formless entity touched him.
Instinctively, he wanted to resist, but then he remembered Termiboros’s words.
“Don’t stop. Don’t turn back. Don’t teleport. Don’t pull your companions!”
While this didn’t explicitly mention resisting, defending, or attacking, Lumian felt it wise to observe and wait for developments.
Suppressing the urge to incinerate the formless entities, he compelled himself to move forward.
Jenna, by his side, and Franca and Anthony behind him, closely monitored Lumian. If he didn’t act, neither did they. If he did, they would quickly follow suit.
Observing Lumian refraining from confronting the formless entity in the dim gray fog, they braced themselves, enduring the intense and danger-filled caresses.
In the midst of this, Franca found the formless object somewhat familiar.
Recalling the suspicion that this place was the mirror’s Fourth Epoch Trier, closely linked to the Demoness pathway, she quickly had an answer.
It bore a striking resemblance to a Demoness of Pleasure’s spider silk!
Could it be left behind by a high-level Demoness? Franca imagined a scene: a colossal pitch-black, half-human spider, nestled silently in the depths of the gray fog, extending spider silk that seemed to possess a life of its own, attempting to locate and capture its prey.
After covering more than ten steps in a sprint, Lumian was pleasantly surprised to notice the formless entity slowly retracting. It no longer actively caressed him, but given their dense presence, occasional brushes or touches were inevitable.
This change appeared to be a response to his proactive approach towards the source of the formless entities.
These formless entities seemed to single out those attempting to escape!
Upon breaking free from the narrow street and delving into the thick gray fog, Lumian suddenly felt his hair stand on end, a chilling sensation running down his spine.
His intuition warned of immense danger ahead, a threat capable of obliterating them all. The consequences of getting closer were beyond imagination.
Franca and the others involuntarily slowed down. The horror felt palpable, like a loaded revolver pressed against their foreheads, poised to fire at any moment.
Lumian clenched his teeth and pressed on.
Having chosen to trust Termiboros’s advice, he needed to endure until there was evidence to the contrary. Otherwise, he might as well do something else from the beginning!
He didn’t halt, and Jenna and the others didn’t dare to either. They resembled fools aware of an impending cliff, understanding their insignificance, yet choosing to rush forward, like an idiot.
At that moment, Lumian caught sight from the corner of his eye of black flames erupting over Jenna’s body. Pain etched her face, fear mirrored in her eyes.
Crack! Jenna shattered like a mirror, only to reappear, still engulfed in black flames and frost.
Her eyes pleaded with Lumian.
Instinctively, Lumian raised his left hand, as if to aid Jenna. However, a brief moment of hesitation swept over him, and he withdrew his hand, fixing his gaze ahead.
Don’t pull companions!
Despair, surprise, and resentment filled Jenna’s eyes instantly.
She coughed and came to a standstill.
Swiftly ensnared by the formless entities, she was dragged deeper into the gray fog.
Franca, witnessing this, had an immediate change in expression, ready to offer assistance when Lumian’s instructions flashed through her mind.
She hesitated.
In that moment, Jenna’s expression transformed into one of pure hatred, blood seeping from the pores on her face. A shrill scream escaped her lips, akin to a curse echoing towards everyone.
Seeing this, Lumian and the others experienced a strange sense of relief.
This Jenna seemed more like a Mirror Person!
Amidst the shrill scream, Jenna vanished into the depths of the gray fog, her voice abruptly silenced.
Almost simultaneously, Lumian caught Jenna in his peripheral vision, sprinting beside him with an anxious and nervous expression.
As expected! Lumian roughly comprehended why Termiboros had cautioned against pulling companions.
In this realm, a companion could seamlessly switch with their mirror counterpart at any moment. Assisting the “Mirror Person” risked harm to their true companion, leading to complete assimilation into this place, becoming “food” for the entity at the source of the formless objects.
Dammit! Couldn’t you be more explicit? These reasons aren’t particularly intricate. You insist on us experiencing them ourselves and overcoming them! Cursing Termiboros inwardly, Lumian pressed on with even more determination.
In the subsequent encounters, similar challenges arose multiple times. Yet, armed with experience, they refrained from resisting or attempting escape. They resisted the impulse to aid their companions.
Lumian and the others, focused on their path, ran straight using the black pillar as a guide. Occasionally, they bypassed obstacles.
Finally, the black pillar loomed not far ahead.
Simultaneously, Lumian, Anthony, and the rest were astonished to find that the imminent danger, on the verge of colliding with them, had mysteriously vanished.
No, it hadn’t disappeared. It was now behind Lumian and the group—distant!
Running toward danger results in moving away from it? Just like the pale-black stone brick area in the wilderness, the direction here is twisted and chaotic? Amid Lumian’s surprise, he didn’t glance back, nor did he pause to celebrate. He persisted, sprinting toward the black pillar.
Had he not set a resolute example, Franca and Jenna might have turned around. Nonetheless, they pressed forward, a sense of relief mingling with lingering fear.
After covering dozens of meters, the quartet reached the square where the black pillar stood.
The ground was paved with pale-black stone bricks, and numerous grayish-white stone pillars lay in ruins, only a few remnants remaining.
Compared to the black pillars, these “surviving” grayish-white stone pillars were as inconspicuous as ants.
The colossal black pillar surpassed even the Krismona Night Pillar Lumian had witnessed on the third level of the catacombs. It stretched into the sky, seeming to burn with formless flames, its destination shrouded in mystery.
The scene brought to Lumian’s mind the pale-black stone bricks in the wilderness outside and the numerous grayish-white stone pillars in the vicinity, but nothing akin to the black pillar.
Had the Night Pillar in the wilderness collapsed and been destroyed? Did that event lead to the old bones crawling out, causing the corruption in Building 13 on Avenue du Marché? Was it then mended by constructing the catacombs and relocating countless corpses? Lumian ventured a guess based on these thoughts.
Franca and Jenna surveyed the square ahead, observing that the area surrounding the black pillar had sunk into the ground. Below, there seemed to be white magma flowing, and faint black tentacles lurked.
Though there were no explicit warnings of danger, Lumian and the others sensed that this might be even more dangerous than the entity they had previously encountered.
Next to the black pillar stood a 1.78-meter-tall snowman. Its frosty face, cracked to form eyes, nose, and mouth, lacked ears.
As Lumian’s gaze nonchalantly swept across the snowman, it abruptly froze.
He noticed a dark stain on the snowman’s right eye, as if it wore a monocle.
Amon? Lumian startled, a desire to flee taking hold.
At that moment, Termiboros’s majestic voice echoed in his ears.
“It’s dead.”
Dead… Lumian breathed a sigh of relief.
It made sense. Amon, a nobleman of the Fourth Epoch’s Tudor Empire, wouldn’t be exempt from the casualties of the divine war. It was plausible that dozens, even hundreds of avatars perished back then. Retrieving them might not have been feasible in the circumstances.
For some reason, Lumian detected a trace of joy in Termiboros’s concise words.
Observing the snowman, Anthony suddenly felt his forehead heat up, and his breath turned hot. His Spirit Body rapidly weakened.
“I’m infected,” he calmly informed his companions.
Ailment… Lumian glanced at the black pillar again.
Could this be the true form of the Krismona Night Pillar?
Even the figurine of the Primordial Demoness can’t stem the corruption of ailments in this place?
Franca’s heart skipped a beat as she instructed Jenna, “Take out that figurine.”
Simultaneously, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the Primordial Demoness figurine crafted from bone.
After Jenna handed her the black one, Franca motioned for Anthony to come closer and observed his expression.
“How do you feel now?”
“It seems better. I’m… I’m getting better.” Anthony scrutinized his physical condition earnestly.
Franca smiled.
“I knew it. How could Jenna and I be fine, but you’re sick?
“Looks like we have to maintain a certain distance from the figurines.”
As soon as she finished speaking, blazing white Fire Ravens soared out from behind the black pillar, hurtling toward them.
Then, a figure emerged. It was Gardner Martin, attired in a black formal suit and yellow vest, an unusual sight.
His gaze fixed on the black figurine in Jenna’s hand and the bone statue in Franca’s, revealing a longing expression.
