Chapter 882 The True Purpose

Seeing Voisin Sanson’s eyes bulge, his breath gradually fading, his face twisted in pain and palpable despair, Lumian reached behind into the Traveler’s Bag and took out the silver Lie earring, putting it on his left ear.

The dying Voisin Sanson suddenly saw a familiar figure.

That figure had light blue eyes, beautiful features, and long, thick golden hair.

It was Aurore.

But this time, there was no longer fear or terror on Aurore’s face, only a faint smile.

“Gasp…” Voisin Sanson uttered his final sound.

He died like that, with his eyes bulging.

Lumian returned to his original appearance, casually saying as he removed the Lie earring, “You died so quickly? I wanted to thank you for helping me digest the Despair potion.”

When he had just advanced, the Despair potion was already mostly digested, and now it had progressed even further.

Lumian wasn’t surprised by this. According to the mystical knowledge he had learned from Madam Magician, the essence of the acting method was actually to gradually align one’s mental and spiritual state with the core symbolism of the potion through acting, thereby bypassing restrictions and completing digestion step by step. His state before and after taking the Despair potion could be said to be very close to the name “Despair”.

Lumian wasn’t despairing about having to become a Demoness. For faster advancement, better handling of possible apocalyptic scenarios, and earlier resurrection of his sister, he had considered similar things more than once. After all, he would have the chance to switch to the Hunter pathway and become a man again later.

He despaired that he was forced to do this and had no way to refuse. He despaired that his previous efforts, struggles, and anger were all under someone else’s arrangements, and that he would have to follow someone else’s arrangements to walk the path of the Demoness afterwards.

Of course, when despair reached its peak, the desire and belief in his heart to become strong and change all this also intensified to the extreme.

“Is this what you wanted too?” Lumian whispered self-mockingly as he unsealed the area and let the remaining mystical pathogens dissipate completely.

Franca, Jenna, and Anthony had already hurried over after Voisin Sanson was impaled on the ice pillar.

Lumian suddenly sensed something and turned his gaze to a certain spot in this dark ruin.

It was where the Order of All Extinction demigod Higdon had finally died.

There, points of green light with yellow tinges appeared out of thin air, rising upwards, only to be blocked by the barrier of the special mirror world.

This place preliminarily cuts off connections, preventing some bestowed power from returning? Lumian, with his experience, immediately made the corresponding judgment.

By this time, Franca and the others had run up to him.

Looking at that familiar yet beautiful and cold face, Franca opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back.

Jenna examined Lumian’s current appearance, with only one thought in mind: It’s good that he’s still alive; it’s best that everyone is still alive!

As for the rest, there was nothing to worry about.

Lumian pointed to those green lights with yellow tinges that were being blocked, his voice slightly magnetic and distinctly feminine as he said, “You can take a weapon over there and place it there.”

This was actively creating a Beyonder weapon.

After Franca exchanged glances with Jenna and Anthony, she very proactively said without any modesty, “I’ll go; I’m just in need of a weapon that can harm demigods.”

She was the second highest Sequence Beyonder in the team—not counting Ludwig.

If she had had a similar weapon earlier, she might not have been so desperate when facing Higdon.

“Alright,” Jenna expressed her attitude.

Anthony also nodded.

This didn’t mean that if he put the Winter is Coming revolver under those light spots, this Beyonder weapon would reset its usage count. Given its own material composition, doing so would likely cause the corruption to exceed the limit, making it disintegrate directly.

Franca took out her Cannon Gun and ran towards the area permeated with green light spots with yellow tinges.

Lumian withdrew his gaze, looked at Jenna, and said with a slight smile, “Do you have any ring-shaped items?”

Jenna, looking at that smile that seemed to radiate its own light, was a bit surprised, but felt that now was not the time to ask.

She found a cheap silver bracelet and handed it to Lumian.

After taking it, Lumian placed the bracelet on top of Voisin Sanson’s corpse, waiting for the Inevitability power to be intercepted.

He then looked towards the distant transparent boundary that was like a mirror, seeing his own figure and face.

He made an effort to bring a smile to the corners of his mouth.

Because Aurore was just such a person who excelled at finding joy in suffering.

…

In front of the bloody altar, Ma’am Hermit was trying to find a way to combine the iron cigar case bearing Mr. Fool’s aura with the Spear of Longinus to directly attack that oil painting depicting endless starry skies. Madam Magician, based on her rich knowledge of seals and powerful sealing abilities, carefully said, “The power of Inevitability is to make the interference of non-vortex ritual participants fail, while that terrifying voice affects all Beyonders similar to Listeners and Mystery Pryers. We may be able to solve them separately.

“The power of Inevitability is most likely dissipating from that circular ring on the oil painting. If we can plug it, shield it, we should be able to break free from the fate of interference being destined to fail, directly destroy the painting, and interrupt that terrifying voice.”

“Plug it…” Ma’am Hermit immediately had an idea upon hearing Miss Justice’s relay.

Taking advantage of the opportunity when the barrier seal was strengthened and the power of inevitability was significantly weakened, she cast a Warlock’s spell, throwing that iron cigar case towards the oil painting on the altar, making it land accurately on the area painted with the silver-white ring with black edges.

The iron cigar case directly pressed down on that ring, shielding it, without leaving any trace exposed.

The little boy, Will, immediately said, “The power of Inevitability has decreased a lot more!”

Hearing this, Madam Magician quickly raised both arms, making the void around that oil painting bend, becoming dark and deep.

That space subsequently collapsed, shattering inch by inch, along with obvious cracks appearing on the oil painting and altar.

Miss Justice’s face then protruded with patches of grayish-white scales, her body seeming to swell.

Similarly, Madam Judgment once again made a judgment.

Seeing her companions all launching attacks, Ma’am Hermit once again condensed that ancient spear stained with strange blood, throwing it towards the oil painting.

The oil painting, already in tatters under continuous attacks, was completely pierced by this Spear of Longinus, nailed to the altar.

Immediately after, flames that seemed to encompass all colors erupted from the spear tip, completely igniting the oil painting that still had terrifying sounds leaking out, gradually burning it to ashes.

…

Above Trier, one Worm of Time after another crawled back into Mr. Star’s body.

This Major Arcana card holder wearing red gloves said to Mr. Hanged Man in his original magnetic voice, “Amon has returned, and briefly regained the true god powers of the Error and Door pathways. I must return to the Cathedral of Serenity immediately.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Mr. Star instantly disappeared.

Mr. Hanged Man cast his gaze downward, seeing the “Moon” transformed into crimson moonlight fall into the extremely compressed villa mist, while Saint Viève of the Eternal Blazing Sun Church shone into it in the form of sunlight.

…

Deep in the primitive island, outside the Black Emperor mausoleum.

Amon, at the edge of the astral world, looked down at Perle, at the Shadow of the Beauty Goddess and the miniature crimson moon still struggling to approach the corresponding light spots in the white mist, without any action.

“What are you still waiting for?” Roselle, his face gradually deepening in pain, asked.

“The same as what you’re thinking now, the most arrogant thought you’ve ever had.” Amon pinched the monocle on his right eye and smiled in response. “If it was just to eliminate the believers of Uncertain Mist, there would be no need for such trouble, nor would it be worth us revealing our trump cards.”

Roselle glanced at the transaction still ongoing below and said, “That could bring great hidden dangers.”

“When you make a decision, you have to accept the corresponding consequences. How can you accomplish something big without taking any risks or bearing any losses?” Amon said with a smile, then added, “This wasn’t said by me, nor by you.”

Before Roselle, who was being eroded more and more deeply and painfully by the white mist, could respond, Amon looked into the distance and said, “Those few from the Tarot Club are not bad, they don’t need me to personally descend to destroy that oil painting.”

Saying this, Amon, wearing a monocle, showed an eager expression. “Now, it’s time.”

He cast his gaze towards the Black Emperor mausoleum, towards Bernadette who was being restricted by Roselle and unable to come out.

That Queen Mystic suddenly recalled something, feeling as if a certain memory had parted the mist and revealed itself.

She immediately stretched out her right hand, quickly sketching out one word after another bearing starlight in front of her.

These words, seemingly the source of all languages in the Northern and Southern Continents, quickly intertwined into strange symbols, opening a secret door that seemed to lead to the depths of the spirit world.

That secret door opened silently, and a gust of wind blew out, transforming into a man with a human upper body and an airflow lower body, wrapped in white cloth.

“The Magic Wishing Lamp and that item,” Bernadette commanded in an authoritative voice.

That man with an airflow lower body respectfully responded, then took out two items from the white cloth wrapped around his body.

One looked like a miniature kettle, golden in color, covered with mysterious and complex symbols, with something like a wick protruding from the spout. This was 0-05—the Magic Wishing Lamp that the believers of Uncertain Mist wanted to obtain.

The other was a gray stone tablet, also engraved with those words that seemed to be the source of all languages in the Northern and Southern Continents, with numerous traces on its surface, mottled and ancient.

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