537 Charm
537 Charm
Yet, their circumstances didn’t permit avoidance. They had to wield a glowing white candle, a feeble defense against the encroaching darkness of the catacombs. The candle’s flame, though, made them conspicuous, a visible beacon in the shadows. True concealment required them to find solace behind the sealed doors of an ancient tomb.
The option of becoming invisible or lurking in the shadows was risky—they weren’t certain if it meant snuffing out the candle flame.
After a silent exchange of glances, Franca and Jenna chose to take a circuitous route, maintaining a safe distance from the distant candlelight.
In the oppressive stillness that felt like time itself had halted, the two Demonesses cautiously progressed westward, guided by road signs and the black lines on the cave ceiling.
As they approached a point parallel to the candle flame, Franca turned her head to peer down the corridor between the ancient tombs.
Thanks to her exceptional night vision, she identified the person clutching the burning candle.
A man in a black robe—deep black and light hues intermingled in his hair, a gentle profile, pale-white skin, and dark brown eyes, distinct from the Intisians.
Feynapotterian? Strikingly similar, yet subtly different. Why do I sense familiarity? When have I encountered this person before? Did he leave an impression in the memory recesses of the original owner of my body? Franca felt an inexplicable urge to approach and strike up a conversation.
She took a deep breath and suppressed it.
In the hushed darkness of the catacombs, approaching strangers recklessly could easily spark unnecessary conflict.
Franca had dedicated considerable time to delve into the circumstances surrounding the original body’s demise and the person’s life experiences. She sought to ensure there were no lingering issues that she needed to be wary about acquaintances from the past.
The man in the black robe, having observed the two Demonesses and noting their lack of intent to draw near, continued on his path, eventually disappearing behind an ancient tomb.
“He doesn’t look like a college student.” Jenna averted her gaze and eliminated an option.
If the individual hadn’t ventured into the fourth level of the catacombs merely driven by curiosity and excitement, it hints at a clear motive. Is he on a commissioned search for antiques, paying respects to an ancestor buried on this level, or a Beyonder delving into the mysticism and seal composition of the catacombs? Perhaps, like Jenna and myself, he pursues the revelations from the three night pillars. Franca’s mind raced through various possibilities.
On the fourth level of the catacombs, two more night pillars awaited: Marianne’s Night Pillar and Lius’s Night Pillar.
The former, the pope of the Evernight Goddess Church in the Fourth Epoch, and the latter, the Blessed of the ancient Death. Both had met their demise during the War of the Four Emperors inside Fourth Epoch Trier.
Having shared her analysis with Jenna, Franca gestured with her right hand, the one without a candle, and reassured, “Don’t worry about his motives. It won’t affect our search for Krismona’s shadow.”
I didn’t want to bother either. You were the one considering all the possibilities… I sensed that impulse in your heart. Did you truly want to investigate that person just now? Jenna, attuned to Franca’s nuances, grasped her companion’s thoughts but chose to chuckle, keeping the revelation to herself.
At times, Franca could be quite prideful!
The entrance was sealed by a dense cluster of pale-white mushrooms tinged with black.
Before Jenna could respond, she continued, “Alright, alright, alright. I get it. Now’s not the time for exploration and adventure.”
“Dammit, I didn’t stop you. Maybe Krismona’s shadow is in the mushroom cave.” Jenna, feeling stifled since entering the fourth level of the catacombs, vented her discomfort with coarse language, as if confined in a space that oppressed her.
Franca was on the verge of responding when her attention fixated on a figure standing at the corner ahead.
Clad in a simple and unadorned white robe, the figure boasted smooth black hair, exquisite facial features, and a holy aura. Her beauty transcended the surroundings of darkness, silence, and filth, as if she had emerged from the depths of human imagination,
Krismona! The name resonated simultaneously in the minds of Franca and Jenna.
They had indeed stumbled upon a shadow suspected to be a High-Sequence Beyonder—the Demoness, Krismona!
Regaining her composure, Jenna locked eyes with the figure and attempted to speak in ancient Hermes, “Hello.”
The woman’s beauty was otherworldly, captivating everyone’s attention. A faint smile graced the corners of her mouth.
Her allure was fully unleashed.
Entranced by that smile, Jenna and Franca found themselves lost, their minds fixated on a singular thought: Approach her, approach her…
Like moths drawn to a flame, fully aware of the dangers that lay in her beauty, yet compelled to draw near.
One step, two steps, three steps… The two Demonesses, eyes filled with fascination, advanced toward the woman in the simple white robe.
As they walked on, Jenna couldn’t help but instinctively sigh and feel a sense of pity.
Why did she sigh when she has such a beautiful smile?
Had she encountered something sorrowful?
Sigh…
Jenna snapped out of her daze, realizing that the woman in the white robe might not be the same as Krismona, who had sighed and protected them. At the very least, she wasn’t entirely the same!
Her vision cleared instantly, revealing the beautiful figure’s soft black hair billowing. Each strand had become unusually thick, and the top had split open, resembling a snake opening its mouth.
The pitch-black snake’s mouth faced Jenna and Franca, seemingly poised for their approach.
Jenna’s heart skipped a beat. She swiftly grabbed Franca and whispered, “Something’s amiss!”
Franca, initially taken aback, struggled for a few seconds before breaking free from her enchantment.
Coming to a sudden halt, they watched as the holy figure in the white robe stared blankly for a moment before bifurcating into a fork and vanishing into the darkness.
Phew… Franca exhaled, her fear lingering as she remarked, “Why isn’t there a rule in the catacombs guidelines that prohibits communication with those who don’t hold candles?”
Franca glanced at her with frustration and said, “You managed to break free from the female ghost’s charm before I did.”
Jenna recounted the thoughts that had recently crossed her mind.
“But I also heard Krismona’s sigh and words in Fourth Epoch Trier…” Franca raised her right hand and touched her face. “Am I really more easily enamored with beauty?”
At this point, a sudden puzzlement overcame her.
“Actually, I’ve always found it strange that Krismona Night Pillar stands in the catacombs.
“As for the other two night pillars, one belongs to the Church of Evernight’s former pope, Marianne, and the other is named after the ancient Death’s Blessed, Lius. The latter is the Death Consul, which is very compatible with the catacombs. The former should be on the neighboring pathway of Death. In other words, they are closely related to death, home, and the dead. Krismona is the Demoness of Catastrophe, clearly distinct from them.
“I can understand why there was a giant pillar representing Krismona in Fourth Epoch Trier. That’s because there’s a special mirror world there. It contains the Primordial Demoness’s divine power left behind during the War of the Four Emperors. However, why was Krismona Night Pillar included in the catacombs’ construction? Back then, an Angel who followed the Blood Emperor perished. Why did it have to be Her?”
Jenna shook her head slowly and redirected her gaze to the spot where the holy figure had vanished.
She attempted to walk a distance in that direction and suddenly realized that the spot where the white-robed woman had been standing was an ancient tomb.
Unlike the other tombs on the fourth floor, its tomb door was open.
…
After departing Rue Aquina, home to the Solow Motel, Lumian found an empty alley and casually tossed the Lie earring to Lugano.
“Find someone skilled in crafting false identities. Change your appearance, and don’t use your current look.” Lumian gestured towards the café diagonally opposite. “I’ll be waiting for you there.”
“Yes, Boss.” Lugano displayed no sign of worry.
Despite being unfamiliar with this city, he had numerous acquaintances residing here.
Moreover, he was fluent in Highlander.
As Lumian observed the translator-guide completing his disguise, returning Lie, and heading toward Rue des Bars, he led Ludwig into the café, where each table was adorned with a bouquet of flowers.
The sun bore down, rendering the passersby somewhat languid.
Unfazed, Lumian, armed with his limited knowledge of Highlander words and gestures, successfully ordered two cups of Torres coffee with milk, a Santa yolk pastry with cream fashioned into a tower, roasted suckling pig, and duck stewed in pear juice.
Ludwig was pleased.
Sipping his coffee, Lumian surveyed the café. He noticed that the six or seven tables were occupied mainly by couples in their twenties, engaged in dates. There was only one middle-aged couple.
With Lumian’s acute hearing, it wasn’t challenging for him to catch snippets of conversations at nearby tables, even though he didn’t comprehend most of it. Only a few words stood out.
“Ocean… Pray… Going aboard… Island…”
Could they be discussing the sea prayer ritual next month? Lumian mused, shifting his gaze out the window.
On the street, two young men with long swords on their backs engaged in a heated argument for some reason. Drawing their swords on the spot, they seemed poised for a duel.
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