292 Communion
Termiboros fell silent.
Lumian continued to listen intently to the bishop’s sermon as he recounted the general situation of the Church of The Fool. He discovered that there existed another continent in this world called the Forsaken Land of the Gods—a place cursed and abandoned by the gods Themselves.
Despite the gods turning their backs on the continent, Mr. Fool refused to forsake it. He dispatched the Angel of Redemption—Gehrman Sparrow—to lead the surviving humans from the lost city-states out of the Forsaken Land of the Gods and guide them in rebuilding their homes on the maritime islands.
Consequently, the Church of The Fool’s headquarters were established in the New City of Silver in the Sonia Sea.
The other two Holy Lands, New Moon City and Bayam, the capital of the Rorsted Archipelago, were also located in the same area.
Lumian listened with fascination, gaining a fundamental understanding of the Church of The Fool.
Following the sermon, the bishop and a few priests distributed communion.
It consisted of a glass of transparent, colorless liquid and a large fruit shell with charred marks covering it.
Lumian picked up the glass and took a sip. The liquid had a slight sweetness, reminiscent of dairy products but with a more fragrant essence.
Next, he used a wooden spoon to scoop out the food from the huge fruit shell.
As soon as he tasted the food, Lumian’s expression turned surprised.
It’s meat!
Isn’t this a bit extravagant?
Even the Eternal Blazing Sun Church’s Communion couldn’t compare to this. They only had red wine and unfermented flatbread.
Lumian perked up and chewed the food with interest. It was delicious, with a meaty texture and a mix of sweetness and slight sourness, like that of a fruit. Its aroma was entirely different from the usual dishes found in Trier.
While he ate, he listened to the bishop explain the origins of Communion.
It turned out that this was Angel of Redemption Gehrman Sparrow’s favorite food during his travels across the land. As the bugle of the Lord, he preached the revelations of the Lord.
The liquid was called Teana, derived from a giant fruit unique to the Rorsted Archipelago, and it was extracted from the pulp.
Having lost most of its pulp, the Teana rind was stuffed with mashed mutton and fish, culminating in the communion, Teativa.
However, transporting such massive fruits from the Rorsted Archipelago to Trier for Communion was impractical. It required crossing three seas, and no matter how unripened the fruit was, it would inevitably rot, wasting valuable resources.
With the help of a particular botanist, the Church of The Fool had cultivated a modified Teana tree that could grow in southern Intis, producing a stronger milky scent.
A delicacy with a maritime charm… If it weren’t for the Church of The Fool’s inability to preach and proselytize, who knows how many people would convert solely due to the Communion… But that could lead to financial issues as well. Too many believers in The Fool would cause the expenses of Communion to skyrocket… After pondering the Church of The Fool’s finances for a moment, Lumian, who hadn’t eaten dinner yet, finished the Teativa clean and gulped down the Teana juice.
“Praise The Fool!” Lumian stood up sincerely and bowed. He slowly left the candlelit cathedral and stepped into the night.
Under the warm glow of gas street lamps, Lumian strolled along the port area, dressed in a linen shirt, black vest, and rolled-up sleeves. His destination was the other side of the docks, where he intended to catch a public carriage to Avenue du Boulevard.
Lavigny had grown quiet, with only occasional groups of sailors passing by, singing or shouting.
All of a sudden, a commotion erupted nearby, followed by a piercing scream.
As the sound echoed through the night, Lumian noticed a figure hurtling towards him at an incredible speed.
Casually, he sidestepped, acting like an innocent bystander.
Yet, if the approaching person happened to be vile or had indeed committed some wrongdoing and was now being chased, Lumian wouldn’t mind sticking out his right foot and tripping them, just for the spectacle.
Within seconds, the figure reached the edge of the street lamp’s glow, making Lumian’s eyebrows twitch in surprise.
So fast!
Clearly not an ordinary human!
With the help of the gas lamps, Lumian got a good look at the figure’s appearance.
It wasn’t human—it was a monster!
Though its wrinkled head resembled a human’s, its dark-green scales covered its body. Wearing a torn linen shirt and brown pants, its feet lacked shoes, and thin, tough skin membrane grew between its fingers. Slippery dark green mucus oozed over its form, and its palms and mouth were stained with blood.
Having encountered numerous monsters in Cordu’s ruins, Lumian remained unperturbed. He only frowned slightly.
It reminds me of those murlocs mentioned in mysticism magazines. Those dark-green scales must provide formidable defense…
As Lumian pondered, the monster noticed him sidestepping and grew more violent and crazed in its expression.
Without warning, it lunged at Lumian.
Reacting swiftly, Lumian arched his body, not backing away, but stepping forward to face the suspected murloc.
Bang!
His right hand, emitting sparks, struck the creature’s abdomen.
Then, he swiftly lowered his body, slipping under the armpit of the dark-green-scaled monster, avoiding its counterattack and effectively positioning himself behind the assailant.
Lumian spun around, his arms swinging. His fists, with flickering flames, delivered powerful blows to the back of the suspected murloc, knocking it to the ground.
Blows resounded until Lumian withdrew his hands, ceasing his assault. He observed silently as the struggling body left corrosive marks on the ground.
With a muffled explosion, crimson sparks erupted from the monster’s eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. Its body swelled before collapsing, shedding several dark-green scales.
After a few convulsions, it lay still.
Lumian averted his gaze and looked towards the figures chasing after him. He nonchalantly flicked his hands, alleviating the corrosive pain caused by the dark-green liquid.
His injuries were minor. After all, he had delivered a barrage of powerful punches, and his contact with the dark-green scales and viscous liquid had been brief.
Soon, the figures reached the lamp pole.
They were sailors, led by a mixed-blood man from the Southern Continent, sporting braided hair and brownish-red skin.
He appeared to be in his thirties, with thick lips. His eyes first scanned the murloc-like monster lying motionless on the ground, then he looked at Lumian with surprise, suspicion, and fear.
After a few seconds of silence, the sailor with the braided hair spoke with a solemn voice, “This is the murloc we captured at sea. It injured one of our crewmates and managed to escape.”
It is indeed a murloc… Did they truly capture it? Why didn’t they turn it into various materials and transport it to Trier? Why risk keeping it alive? Lumian silently mused as he asked with a smile, “Are you planning to apologize on its behalf and compensate me for my mental distress to soothe my terrified mind?”
The sailor and his companions exchanged glances, unable to decipher the lad’s true intentions.
In the distance, the sound of regimental-like running resonated, accompanied by gunfire.
Patrol soldiers had rushed over upon hearing the scream.
The sailor’s heart tightened as he unconsciously grabbed the monster’s corpse, closely observing Lumian’s reaction. He intended to stop once the other party showed any dissatisfaction.
Simultaneously, he continued, “No problem. We have no problem.”
What he meant was that they would provide compensation for Lumian’s mental distress.
Lumian sensed that they mainly wanted the Beyonder characteristic produced by the murloc, but the monster was too weak. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss how the prize would be divided with them.
It was not worthy of the Shadow Branch at all!
If these individuals, who acted recklessly without concern for covering their tracks, managed to evade pursuit and crossed paths with him again, he could simply demand compensation from them for his mental distress.
As Lumian watched the sailors carry the murloc away, he continued on his way as if nothing had happened.
Before long, several patrolling soldiers caught up with him, examining his condition and inquiring if he had witnessed anything unusual.
Lumian candidly pointed in the direction the sailors had fled.
“I heard a scream and saw a group of people running that way. They were dressed like sailors.”
The officer leading the patrol nodded approvingly.
“Thank you for your cooperation.”
“No need to thank me. It’s what any responsible citizen should do,” Lumian replied with a smile.
Soon, the other soldiers discovered traces of corrosion and scales on the ground, along with sticky liquid that hadn’t entirely evaporated. They followed the trail towards the docks.
Lumian clicked his tongue and continued on his way towards the public carriage stop.
Clap! Clap! Clap! He heard a soft applause.
Feeling uneasy, Lumian turned his head and saw someone sitting on a nearby cargo box, seemingly having appeared out of nowhere.
The man’s eyebrows were charred yellow, and his hair shared the same color. His eyes were dark blue yet radiant. He wore a linen shirt, a brown vest, and a pair of black leather boots hung from his dark brown pants.
Lumian recognized the man and felt alarmed.
Blazing Danitz, a great pirate second only to a few Pirate Kings!
But Lumian calmed down when he recalled the man’s other identity: He was no longer a pirate; he was now Mr. Fool’s Oracle!
As the holder of a Minor Arcana card, Lumian believed that as long as he revealed his identity, Blazing Danitz wouldn’t give him trouble.
Blazing Danitz gazed at Lumian for a few seconds before effortlessly leaping down from the top of the wooden crates.
He chuckled and spoke leisurely, “To be able to swiftly choose the most effective, targeted, and efficient attack method against your prey, perfectly evading the enemy’s enhanced scale defense—your combat intelligence is quite impressive. I admire it.
“So, how about it? Are you interested in joining my team and becoming my subordinate?”
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