入室强性暴

“I can’t quite fathom the purpose behind causing a chemical plant explosion either… Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Bono Goodville and Hugues Artois have quite a good relationship. It’s not unusual for him to pay a visit, but it just so happens that there was an explosion at the chemical plant today,” Lumian pondered before speaking.

He couldn’t dismiss every coincidence in life, but he also couldn’t treat each one as a problem.

Franca nodded thoughtfully and remarked, “True enough.

“However, I must remind you that the chemical plant explosion isn’t meaningless. It may have already resulted in numerous deaths, and that holds great significance for certain dark rituals. The living are always the third-best sacrifice.”

“Could this also be part of a ritual?” Lumian was somewhat taken aback.

Franca corrected him, “There’s no real distinction between using a knife to sacrifice someone and using a chemical plant explosion to kill the intended victim as part of a ritual for the deity the host desires to invoke. Your understanding of ritualistic magic is still too narrow. Some rituals may indeed require such explosions to be effective.”

It’s akin to the Substitution Spell, requiring a substitute to assume the identity to be replaced for an extended period before the ritual. Lumian grasped the idea.

Franca let out a sigh.

“This is merely my conjecture. It doesn’t necessarily mean it’s true. However, we must alert the official Beyonders to be vigilant for signs of a ritual and to investigate the role of the member of parliament’s office in this catastrophe.

“F*ck, if that bloke wasn’t a member of parliament, I’d have captured him tonight, strung him up from the ceiling, and given him a thrashing. I’d interrogate him about his intentions and his connection to those heretics.

“Sigh, in that explosion just now, countless individuals lost their parents, spouses, siblings, or children. I wonder how many people are praying, worrying, and suffering for their injured loved ones.”

“Like Jenna,” Lumian interjected.

Franca was momentarily stunned. “What did you say?”

“Jenna’s mother works at the Goodville Chemical Factory. Didn’t you know?” Lumian inquired.

Franca was taken aback before asking with concern, “How is her mother?”

Lumian briefly recounted how he had accompanied Jenna to Rue Saint-Hilaire in search of Elodie and had used the last bit of healing agent to save her from near death.

Franca let out a sigh of relief and expressed in anguish, “Why wasn’t I there! Why wasn’t I there!”

Lumian’s lips twitched as he calmly said, “You still have a chance. Jenna is fretting over the subsequent medical expenses.”

“I’ll go to the Holy Palace Hospital right away!” Franca’s eyes lit up, and she was about to dash out of the apartment.

Lumian hastily called out to her, “Don’t forget to bring the Poison Spur Mob’s healing agent with you. I’m concerned that her condition might worsen.”

Just like Monsieur Ruhr.

Without waiting for Franca’s response, he added, “Also, help Jenna bring the dress she wore this morning.”

“Right… I need to borrow 4,000 verl d’or from you and offer half of the Harvest Sacrifice as collateral. I’ve already gathered the supplementary ingredients for the Pyromaniac potion.”

“So soon?” Franca exclaimed, taken aback. “I haven’t even begun searching for you!”

Lumian smirked once again.

“Last night, I ran into Boss at the entrance of the member of parliament’s office and confessed my plans to advance and about the advance on my pay. I requested he keep an eye on the supplementary ingredients for the Pyromaniac potion.”

The more Franca listened, the more complicated her expression became.

“You’re more cunning than I realized, kid… Confiding in Gardner about this matter is indeed the best approach.

“However, can’t you consider me? Don’t you know that I also wanted to help you gather the supplementary ingredients for the Pyromaniac potion through Gardner? He’s a Sequence 6 Conspirer or a Sequence 5 Hunter, and he has a group of Hunters working with him. He won’t be lacking in such things. Luckily, I haven’t approached him in the past two days. Otherwise, he would have surely suspected that we were having an affair.”

Lumian had always assumed Franca would seek materials through the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society. He hadn’t expected her to approach Gardner Martin out of convenience and proximity, almost exposing their secret relationship.

Franca returned to her room and retrieved a banknote worth 4,000 verl d’or from somewhere. She handed it to Lumian and solemnly reminded him, “Once you obtain the main ingredient, don’t rush to concoct the potion. You must ensure that your condition can withstand the impact of your advancement. Otherwise, it’s best to delay it for a while. The main ingredient is much easier to preserve than the potion itself.”

“I’m well aware,” Lumian replied calmly.

After a moment of thought, he asked, “Before you go to Jenna, it would be wise to inform the authorities. The explosion just happened, so there might be some clues left behind.”

“Yes,” Franca agreed.

Before bidding farewell, Lumian asked curiously, “If the living are the third-best sacrifice, what are the second-best and the best?”

“The second-best are beings with Beyonder characteristics. And the best…” Franca smiled. “They are demigods.”

…

Quartier de No?l, sixth floor of Holy Palace Hospital.

As Jenna returned to the ward from the washroom, she spotted her brother Julien assisting their mother, Elodie, in tucking the corners of the blanket.

Elodie remained unconscious, but her complexion showed signs of improvement.

Julien stood up and beckoned his sister to the side. He whispered, “Celia, don’t fret about the upcoming medical expenses. I’ll find a solution. Keep attending your acting lessons at Théatre de l’Ancienne Cage à Pigeons.”

Jenna’s heart swelled with gratitude as she inquired, “Did the doctor talk to you?”

“Yes, he just did.” Julien nodded with solemnity.

Jenna pressed her lips together and assured him, “Don’t worry. My friends have agreed to lend me money. I can repay them over three years with minimal interest. With my earnings as an underground singer and your wages, if we are frugal, it should be enough without affecting our respective apprenticeships.”

There was a moment of silence as Julien pondered, before he finally spoke, “That Ciel?”

“Yes, he’s one of them, but I have other friends too. And Franca, the ‘Red Boots’ I mentioned last night.” Jenna felt the need to clarify the situation, fearing her brother might resort to extreme measures.

She recalled how two years ago, Julien had contemplated secretly selling himself to Balam-Paz Import and Export Corporation, unbeknownst to their mother, in order to become a disposable mercenary and repay all their debts, allowing Jenna to pursue her dreams as an apprentice actress. Fortunately, that plan had been thwarted in the end.

Just as Julien was about to respond, his gaze fell upon a tall, slender woman standing at the ward’s entrance.

She donned a blouse, light-colored breeches, a thin black-on-white checkered tweed top, and vibrant red boots. Her long flaxen-colored hair was tied back in a simple ponytail. With eyebrows that extended toward her temples and eyes that sparkled with energy, she exuded an irresistible charm.

Jenna eagerly approached her.

“Franca.”

…

Rue des Blouses Blanches, inside the safe house.

Lumian, having acquired Sun Star and currently distilling its extract, took a seat and awaited Madam Magician’s response.

On the desk in front of him, Fire Salamander blood, Magma Pyroxene powder, and Redcrown Balsam powder were neatly arranged.

Just as the Sun Star extract was about to be completed, the arm-height “doll” dressed in a light-gold gown, with exquisite yet slightly peculiar facial features, appeared on the windowsill.

It placed a metal biscuit tin on the windowsill and sniffed the air.

“Use this extract the next time you summon me.”

“Alright.” The request from the other party was so unusual that Lumian was momentarily taken aback. His instinctive response was the only thing he could offer.

In an instant, the puppet messenger vanished before his eyes. Lumian opened the bright silver biscuit tin and beheld the small crimson “heart” burning silently within.

Without hesitation, he grabbed a prepared beer mug and dropped in the Pyromaniac Beyonder characteristic.

Immediately afterward, Lumian poured over 50 milliliters of Fire Salamander blood into the cup.

With a sizzling sound, the crimson liquid evaporated, transforming into a mist of blood that swirled around the “heart.”

The Pyromaniac Beyonder characteristic softened considerably, its surface rippling like the water of a lake.

Following the potion formula’s instructions, Lumian added Magma Pyroxene powder, Redcrown Balsam powder, and Sun Star extract into the beer mug. As he did so, the blood mist surrounding the “heart” abruptly shrank, giving rise to a yellowish liquid with red bubbles.

In Lumian’s eyes, this was the Pyromaniac potion.

Rather than consuming it immediately, Lumian closed his eyes.

In his mind, he conjured images of Flameng’s lifeless body dangling from a window frame, the lunatic’s will inscribed on a sheet of white paper. He envisioned Monsieur Ruhr, his body ravaged by decay. He pictured Madame Michel, drowning her sorrows in drink and singing boisterously, only to ultimately meet her demise by hanging herself in the morning light. He also saw the cries that echoed through Sifflet Square.

Then, he glimpsed his own stubborn and determined self as a wanderer. He witnessed his unwavering spirit, refusing to surrender despite the repeated blows. He envisioned an alternative outcome for himself. He witnessed the sorrow, anger, powerlessness, and oppression that came with pursuing hope, only to be engulfed by darkness.

The mocking laughter of fate resounded in his ears, igniting a raging fire within his heart.

If this is the unavoidable conclusion;

If this is the fate of insignificance,

If efforts yield no fruit, and hope remains forever out of reach;

Then I shall fight with every ounce of my being to change it all!

Even if there is no light ahead, and hope dwindles to a mere flicker, I will fight until my last breath!

Motherf*cker member of parliament!

Motherf*cker Guillaume Bénet!

Motherf*cker heretics!

Motherf*cker Termiboros!

Motherf*cker Inevitability!

Lumian’s eyes snapped open as he solidified his final acting principle as a Provoker.

Provocation symbolized indomitable spirit!

He didn’t need this for digestion assistance. With a fire raging within his chest, he seized the beer mug and guzzled down the liquid.

It burned from his mouth, down his esophagus, into his stomach, and seared into his heart.