Chapter 695 - 695 Kolobo's Worry

695 Kolobo’s Worry

Lumian snapped out of his daze and glanced at Ludwig, who had regained his composure. Turning to Lugano, who was shrinking into a corner of the bed, he said, “We’ll head back to Trier tomorrow and find a psychiatrist for you—a real, genuine one.”

This decision wasn’t made out of concern for Lugano, but rather something that had long been on Lumian’s agenda. 007 should have already provided feedback in the early morning hours. Lumian, Franca, and the others would discuss how to handle the Mirror Person, Moran Avigny.

Moreover, Lumian intended to seize this opportunity to extract Termiboros’s power and obtain a Fate Appropriator boon.

His most significant gain from the Dream Festival was the substantial digestion of the Reaper potion.

He knew the Southern Continent was filled with conflicts and combat opportunities, which would help him digest the Reaper potion. However, he never anticipated that less than two weeks after advancing, the potion’s digestion progress would skyrocket, much like a mercury thermometer’s column shooting up when touching a living person’s armpit.

Culling Padre Cali, Hisoka’s dream projection, and nearly 20 others bestowed with strength equivalent to Sequence 6 or Sequence 5 made Lumian acutely aware of life’s fragility. It was like straw under a scythe, constantly collapsing with a simple cull and scattered by the wind.

Furthermore, after experiencing the acting of the first four Sequences, Lumian felt the Hunter pathway had a distinct characteristic of bringing calamity. Reapers were no exception.

With this acting, he believed the Reaper’s destructive characteristics that brought calamity were more apparent.

At the same time, Lumian greatly benefited from an enemy’s destruction.

As his mind raced, he summarized his first Reaper acting principle: “Culling is about destroying the target and reaping a harvest for yourself.”

If I had three or four more similar culls, I wouldn’t need to comprehend other acting principles and put them into practice to digest the Reaper potion. However, such good fortune is rare… Lumian sighed silently.

This required gathering more than ten Sequence 6 and Sequence 5 Beyonders with obvious flaws he could exploit without interference.

Meeting each of these conditions was challenging, let alone all of them simultaneously:

First and foremost, whether humans consumed potions or gained superpowers through boons, their pathways and Sequences differed in their flaws. They couldn’t all be burdened by dream projections like the gravekeepers in the Dream Festival, where emotions and desires exploded at the slightest trigger. Even if the bestowed were deeply influenced by evil gods and had mental issues to some degree, exploding emotions and desires weren’t inevitable. Some might simply have mutated personalities.

Secondly, Sequence 6 and Sequence 5 Beyonders were uncommon, especially the latter, who formed the backbone of various factions. Even without factions, they could create their own teams and dominate a region like the Pirate Admirals. Gathering more than ten to twenty such Beyonders was no easy task.

Moreover, if a major incident caused the first two conditions to be met, the Beyonders’ common flaws might not be countered by Lumian and his mystical items.

Finally, during the battle, a Sequence 5 Beyonder, a key member of the various factions, might draw the attention of the corresponding demigod.

A mysticism event like the Dream Festival, with its inherent limitations and natural problems, was unusually suitable for Lumian. Perhaps there had only been one such event in the Northern and Southern Continents in nearly a millennium.

Sigh… Lumian couldn’t help but sigh again.

At that moment, Lugano was thrilled to hear he could return to Trier at dawn. He quickly replied, “Alright, alright!”

Back in Trier, his boss had more trusted companions. He probably wouldn’t need to take care of Ludwig anymore!

Lumian thought for a moment and glanced at the curtains emanating the crimson moonlight. Casually, he asked Lugano, “Have you saved enough for the Harvest Priest potion formula and the corresponding ingredients?”

Lugano was taken aback.

“No, I’m still a bit short of the potion formula’s price.”

Most of his current “savings” came from Lumian, amounting to around 15,000 verl d’or. Based on his knowledge, a Sequence 7 potion formula usually cost between 16,000 to 20,000 verl d’or.

Lumian nodded pensively.

“I’ll keep an eye out for the Harvest Priest potion formula and the necessary ingredients for you. If you’re short on funds, I’ll help cover the difference. Consider it a share of the spoils from this adventure.”

Lugano was stunned momentarily before tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.

I made the right choice!

My future truly lies with the boss!

With a hint of unease, he asked, “But that was a dream adventure. Can the gains be brought back to the real world?”

Lumian didn’t elaborate. He retrieved Hisoka’s golden mask from his Traveler’s Bag.

It’s possible… Some special items are possible? Lugano felt a sense of relief.

Lumian turned to Ludwig, who seemed to have acquired a cherished toy, and nodded slightly.

“You may go back to sleep.”

Ludwig, wearing a blue nightcap, blinked and reached out to touch his stomach.

Groan. Groan. His stomach churned violently.

Lumian laughed self-deprecatingly and took out the portion of food Ludwig had eaten in the dream, including almond pistachio cream cake, liquor-infused chocolate, éclairs, and more.

After Ludwig began his “quiet” meal, Lumian returned to his room and conjured a blazing white fireball. He unfolded the letter, picked up a fountain pen, and penned a letter to Madam Magician.

This took precedence over dealing with other matters.

As he wrote, Lumian pondered something.

If I killed all the elders of the gravekeepers, would the primitive tribe still possess the ability to attack and eliminate the dead?

Or are they still alive in the real world, waiting to drag those already dead down with them when they attack Tizamo?

Or would the deceased find another way out, like the fire that had engulfed the Twanaku family?

…

On the third floor of the police headquarters in Tizamo Town.

Camus snapped out of his reverie and instinctively glanced at the temporary bed opposite him. He noticed the blanket had been lifted, and Kolobo was nowhere to be found.

Am I still dreaming, still in the Dream Festival? Camus sat up cautiously and heard a sound near the door in the corner.

In the darkness, under the crimson moonlight seeping through the curtains, he saw Kolobo crouched there, curled up and trembling.

Camus lowered his voice and gently asked, “What’s wrong?”

Kolobo’s voice quivered as he replied, “The sky is falling! The sky is falling!”

The sky is falling? Camus found it amusing and looked at Kolobo.

“Did you misinterpret your premonition?”

How could the sky possibly fall?

…

Outside Tizamo, at the edge of the primitive forest.

Maslow, his face adorned with white paint, slowly advanced into the forest.

It was a terrible feeling to know about his impending yet unavoidable death.

He regretted betraying the Numinous Episcopate, but there had been no choice. Shortly after arriving in Tizamo, he had been secretly controlled by Twanaku, who had returned for a “vacation.” He had become a fallen one monitoring the situation of Padre Cali and Tizamo.

Subsequently, although he knew Twanaku had been killed, the other party’s dream projection appeared in his dream, telling him the matter wasn’t over.

Maslow advanced step by step, yearning to return to the forest and become nourishment for a tree, just like his ancestors.

As he walked, he spotted nearly 20 people emerging from the nearby barracks.

The men seemed to sense something amiss and prepared to inspect their surroundings.

At that moment, Maslow felt the night suddenly brighten.

Subconsciously, he looked up at the sky and saw a burning boulder descending with a crimson flame tail.

In an instant, the burning boulder filled Maslow’s vision.

It crashed into the area between the forest’s edge and the barracks.

Rumble!

The wind and dust stirred by the meteorite swiftly filled the area, rising into the air and dissipating, obscuring the crimson moon and the starlight.

Rumble!

The entirety of Tizamo seemed to experience a violent earthquake. Buildings shook violently, and glass shattered.

Several houses with weak foundations quickly collapsed, burying their occupants.

With great difficulty, Camus regained his balance. Once the building stabilized, he rushed to the shattered window and looked out.

He saw the “sky” was gray and murky, so close he could touch it if he jumped up.

The “sky” has really fallen… For some inexplicable reason, this thought flashed through Camus’s mind.

…

In the second-floor suite of the Brieu Motel.

Clutching the letter and fountain pen, Lumian watched the smoke and dust outside with amusement, sensing the “heavy blow” not far away.

“How direct…” he sighed sincerely.

A meteorite had descended from the sky!

From the looks of it, the catastrophe had likely eliminated most of the deceased.

Lumian turned to look at the door, which had swung open due to the building’s shaking, and saw Ludwig still focused on eating.

Nothing from the pile of food had fallen to the ground.

After sending Lugano out to assist the injured, Lumian returned to his room and continued writing.

Upon completion, he immediately set up a ritual and summoned the “doll” messenger.

Just as the “doll” messenger emerged from the expanding candle flame, it suddenly shrank.

Slowly, she glanced to her left and then to her right. After confirming there was no problem, she tiptoed and cautiously approached Lumian’s letter.

Lumian had never seen the “doll” messenger act like this before. He watched in confusion and amusement as she picked up the folded letter like a thief. She waved at him and quickly retreated into the candle flame.

Lumian chuckled and shook his head, no longer pondering the “doll” messenger’s actions.

At the very least, it seemed harmless, and he had several things to do.

Lumian left the bedroom, entered the corridor, and went to the first floor. He grabbed the motel owner, who had come out to check on the situation after waking up, and asked, “Which room are the lady and her companion who arrived tonight staying in?”