553 Half-Fairy
Lumian remained composed, not rushing to summon the messenger of the Minor Arcana, the Knight of Swords. His patience persisted as he waited for a particular individual.
Since expressing a strong desire to investigate the sea prayer ritual and taking action, only three waves of people had contacted him today, openly or covertly. Yet, the person he awaited the most had not shown up.
Maybe Rubió Paco prefers to wait until late at night when there’s no one around? Shaking off his thoughts, he smiled at Lugano.
“Batna just began his fling with Nolfi. He might want to explore all the villages, towns, pastures, and vineyards around Port Santa before the sea prayer ritual. If you hear anything about him later, inform me. There’s no need to deliberately inquire.”
Lugano didn’t think it was a big deal and smiled understandingly.
“Maybe he even took on some missions along the way—earning some bucks while traveling.”
Once the interpreter and Ludwig retired to their rooms, Lumian settled into a recliner and casually perused the Highlander textbooks under the soft glow of the gas wall lamp.
As time passed, the night grew quieter.
Lumian, confirming no further intel would arrive that night, pondered the situation.
Stroking his chin, he pondered this matter.
It seems more people are observing. Unless the great adventurer’s investigation makes a breakthrough and remains unscathed, they won’t easily place their bets until I demonstrate greater reliability or value.
The trio who reached out today possesses distinct traits. One affiliated with the Earth Mother Church, insulated from losses even if their gamble fails. Would the Fisheries Guild risk confrontation with the cathedral and the Fertility Order?
The second, the imposter Governor of the Sea, faces high odds of death during the sea prayer ritual. He’d clutch at any chance for survival. Additionally, his lack of confidence in both the Earth Mother Church and Port Santa’s government makes him value the adventurer capable of defeating the Demon Warlock more. However, his plea might be a trap by the Fisheries Guild.
The third, elusive figure hinted at useful clues without divulging the sea prayer ritual’s secret…
After careful contemplation, Lumian gained deeper insight into the mindsets and choices of various factions.
Conspiracies often manipulated human emotions, exploiting the circumstances at hand. Lumian found himself increasingly fascinated by these two aspects.
This was both a daily routine and an essential necessity.
Putting aside the Highlander textbook, Lumian returned to his bedroom.
Closing the door, a black mark on his body emitted a faint glow.
Bottle of Fiction!
Lumian enveloped the entire room within the Bottle of Fiction. The entry conditions were simple—only spirit world creatures.
Ripple-like light briefly adorned the walls, floor, and ceiling of the bedroom before swiftly vanishing, leaving everything appearing entirely ordinary.
Only then did Lumian compose the letter and arrange the ritual. He sanctified the dagger, erected a wall of spirituality, and lit the candle representing him.
Stepping back, he spoke in ancient Hermes, “I!”
Then, switching to Hermes, he said, “I summon in my name:
“A peculiar creature wandering above the world, a half-fairy who fiddles with melodic strings, a messenger that belongs solely to the Knight of Swords…”
The orange candle flame transformed instantly into a deep blue hue, expanding to half the size of a human.
In the blue radiance, a figure of blood-red hue emerged from the candle flame.
Resembling a female human in form, it shared traits with a creature Lumian had encountered in Cordu’s ruins. Devoid of skin or external coverings, it exposed bloody muscles, bluish-black blood vessels, ghastly white tendons, oily yellow fat, and large red or white fascia.
Lumian studied the 1.7-meter-tall Knight of Swords messenger and pondered silently, Does Half-Fairy mean it’s divided internally?
I assumed it would be either split vertically or horizontally…
Don’t you know how to fiddle with melodic strings? Where are they?
With these musings racing through his mind, Lumian handed the folded letter to the messenger and politely uttered in Hermes, “Kindly deliver this to the Knight of Swords.”
As his strength grew, Lumian became increasingly aware that most messengers he encountered could be lethal—if unafraid to unleash the corruptive source, Termiboros.
Though Lumian couldn’t gauge the strength of the Knight of Swords’ messenger—the Half-Fairy—all his experience urged him to maintain politeness.
The black and white eyeballs of the Half-Fairy, embedded in the blood-
colored face, darted around before gently nodding and accepting the letter.
It spoke with a clear, pleasant voice akin to a mountain stream’s flow, “I’ll deliver it promptly.”
How melodious. It’s like a bard strumming a guitar… Lumian snapped out of his reverie.
He suddenly grasped the reason for the messenger’s melodic string prefix.
“Thank you.” He bowed politely.
Observing the Half-Fairy about to retreat into the blue candle flame, Lumian couldn’t suppress his curiosity and inquired, “What would you do if given human skin?”
The Half-Fairy fixed its black-and-white eyes on Lumian for a few seconds.
As it delved into the blue candle flame, it left behind a melodious voice, “I’ll put it on.”
You’ll embody whoever’s skin you wear? Has the Half-Fairy always sought its other half? Lumian speculated.
At that moment, he recalled an unfinished promise.
Help the Abscessed Hand find its body!
This pledge determined whether Lumian could attain godhood and advance to Sequence 4. However, being only a Sequence 6, he wasn’t in a rush.
…
Late at night, in Trier’s market district, within an empty room.
Franca, clad in an assassin suit, was having her first face-to-face encounter with 007.
As moments drifted by, 007 strode in, sporting a brown lion headgear and a double-breasted coat.
After confirming his identity, Franca pushed back her hood, emerging from the shadows.
“What brings us to this in-person discussion?” 007 inquired, his brow furrowed.
His instincts screamed to decline, yet he sensed the gravity of the situation. Failing to act promptly could result in a colossal catastrophe.
Ultimately, he acceded to Hidden Blade’s request for a meeting.
Franca chuckled, emotions swirling within.
“It’s a good thing.”
“I’m skeptical when it comes from you, Hidden Blade,” 007 expressed his concern openly.
Franca clarified her reason for requesting an “offline” meeting, “It’s true. I need your help to find someone. Telegrams can’t convey a portrait. I can’t craft a digital image using just words and dots, can I?”
007 regarded Franca with suspicion.
“Simply seeking help to locate someone? No ulterior motives?”
Franca chuckled.
“For now, that’s all I can divulge.”
“That only heightens my apprehension.” 007 keenly sensed the search for this individual might harbor a crucial issue. Otherwise, Hidden Blade, having witnessed catastrophic events, wouldn’t have taken it so seriously. She wouldn’t have insisted on an offline meeting and handing over the portrait personally. More likely, she would have left it somewhere for retrieval.
Franca produced a portrait, drawn through dream divination and ritualistic magic, and passed it to 007.
Upon receiving it, 007’s hand naturally emitted a sunlight-like glow, revealing the photo-like drawing in the dark night.
The depicted figure wore a black robe, with his head slightly turned, revealing very short dark hair that seemed freshly grown. The facial contours on his side profile were gentle, and his sickly pale-white skin contrasted with his dark brown eyes, which were not sunken enough.
Initially, 007 perceived nothing remarkable, but trusting Hidden Blade’s knack for stirring trouble, he scrutinized it for more than ten seconds.
Beneath the lion’s headgear, his brow furrowed as he whispered, “This doesn’t seem like someone from any country in the Northern Continent.”
Franca smiled playfully and self-deprecatingly.
“Don’t you think he resembles us from before we transmigrated?”
007 froze, as if struck by lightning.
He studied the drawing repeatedly and fell silent for nearly 20 seconds before saying,
“Hidden Blade, do you understand what you’re saying?”
Franca raised her head slightly and said in a deep voice, “I suspect he came from that country from our world.
“Muggle, I, and the others found signs of interaction between both worlds before!”
“When? What signs?” 007 interjected, fighting the urge to grab Hidden Blade’s shoulder and shake her for every bit of information.
Franca chuckled.
“I’m not at liberty to answer you. I can only reveal it after discussing with Muggle and the others. There are many secrets involved. First, discreetly search for the person in the portrait. I encountered him on the fourth level of the catacombs.”
007 struggled to contain his impatience, resisting the temptation to handcuff Hidden Blade for details. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Can’t you guys discuss it first before involving me?”
I was just considerate of your emotions, afraid that you’d lose control upon receiving so much information at one go… Franca let out a hollow laugh and replied,
“It’s not time to meet Muggle and the others yet. I need to find him urgently, afraid he might leave Trier.
“Calm down, calm down. You can’t hide your desire to kill me.”
Franca smiled sheepishly, fading into the shadows.
Holding the portrait, 007 took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
…
Feynapotter Kingdom, Port Santa, Solow Motel.
After breakfast, Lumian had just returned to the master bedroom when he sensed a sudden chill.
Simultaneously, a tarot card materialized on the desk.
The card depicted a knight running with a sword in hand.
Minor Arcana card, Knight of Swords!
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