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There, a colossal, semi-transparent vortex unfurled, ensconced in a wispy gray fog at its nadir. Within this haze materialized a dimly lit village, populated by spectral forms.

One of these apparitions gazed skyward, noticing Guillaume Bénet’s struggle against the vortex’s inexorable pull.

His pale-white face instantly lit up with excitement and fanaticism as he shouted, “Oh, my deity, my lord, you’re here too?

“Quickly, join us! Hasten your approach!”

The figure belonged to Guillaume Bénet’s brother, Pons Bénet.

Sensing Pons Bénet’s abnormality, the figures lingering in the dim village looked up at Guillaume Bénet.

Among them, Madonna Bénet, Philippa Guillaume, and the others, who had once been Guillaume Bénet’s mistresses, extended their pale-white arms to the sky and smiled blankly.

“Quickly, join us! Hasten your approach!”

Immediately after, Shepherd Pierre Berry, Lumian’s comrade Guillaume Berry, Azéma Lizier, and more added their supplicating gestures.

In an instant, a peculiar, pallid forest seemingly sprouted from within the village’s dim enclave, its spectral denizens directing their palms towards the padre.

Guillaume Bénet’s descent escalated, his Spirit Body verging on fragmentation.

Struggling to counteract the vortex’s pull, he sought to resist its sway, aiming to evade its dominion and flee Lumian’s profoundly perilous vessel.

He couldn’t care less about the Rebirth in the other party’s body and the corresponding fate.

That was something he couldn’t bear!

Lumian’s grin expanded, seemingly attuned to the cacophony of terror and anguish echoing within his own body.

Indeed, possessing him via Rebirth and forcing a possession by luring others over via the Summoning Dance were completely different treatments!

The former would form a connection with his fate and, in an attempt to replace it, it would inevitably trigger the seal. Guillaume Bénet’s profound corruption by Inevitability meant that the resonance of this seal’s potency was inevitable.

Though Lumian remained ignorant of the precise ramifications, he intuited they would bode ill.

Perceiving Guillaume Bénet’s vehement longing to extricate himself, Lumian opted to refrain from thwarting his escape, willingly relinquishing any interference.

Ultimately, Guillaume Bénet—having expended a considerable amount of his spirituality—struggled to escape from Lumian’s body.

A dark-golden glimmer traversed his chest, heralding Guillaume Bénet’s emergence within the palm-sized mirror clasped in Franca’s grasp.

Franca’s palm coalesced an unblemished frost, which she spread over the mirror’s surface.

Instantaneously, Guillaume Bénet’s form became ensconced within a veneer of ice, ensnared within the mirror’s confines.

Concurrently, Franca summoned black flames, which enshrouded the icy enclosure.

Though the ice in itself was inadequate to bar a Spirit Body’s escape from the mirror, the shrouding black flames bore that capability. Should Guillaume Bénet dare venture beyond the ice’s protection, the flames awaited to engulf him.

With Guillaume Bénet’s Spirit Body securely sealed, Franca glanced up at Lumian—who had removed the paper balls—and directed, “Channel his spirit after we’re out. Your flames and anesthetic gas are everywhere.”

With her physique and expenditure, holding on for another two or three minutes sans Mirror Substitution posed no undue challenge. Nonetheless, she sensed Lumian reaching his threshold.

Affirming Franca’s directive with a nod, Lumian briskly pivoted and surged towards the Bottle of Fiction’s exit.

Consequent to Guillaume Bénet’s “demise,” the concealed trap had naturally been lifted.

Having returned to the sacrificial hall, Lumian promptly dissipated the Niese Face, reverting his appearance from that of Franca’s hooded visage and black robe.

His upper body bore the telltale markings of being charred, yet owing to his skillful management following the initial digestion of the Pyromaniac potion, his trousers remained unscathed.

This approach, evoking pain, stimulating cerebral activity, and rousing his senses, didn’t necessitate subjecting his entire form to incineration—localized scorching proved sufficient.

Observing his somewhat unconventional appearance, Franca—torn between concern and amusement—chimed in with an air of teasing, “Do you have a penchant for masochism? You go through this ordeal every time you engage in combat.”

Lumian directed his attention toward the mirror ablaze in Franca’s grip and casually responded, “That’s how Hunters are.”

“I’d be deluding myself if I bought into your fabrications. I’m an Instigator, after all!” Franca had borne witness to prior Pyromaniac skirmishes.

Witnessing their conversational exchange, Jenna deduced that their adversary had been ensnared and the situation had reached its resolution. Thus, she emerged from the concealment of the shadows.

Franca graced her with a smile before turning her attention back to Lumian, relaying, “Hold on for a moment. Don’t fret. Guillaume Bénet isn’t entirely dead yet. Once the Rebirth effect wanes, he’ll morph into a recently expired spirit, his faculties adrift. At that juncture, channeling his spirit will prove less hazardous, and we can be sure he doesn’t lie.”

Lumian calculated the remaining duration of the Decency brooch’s efficacy and remarked, “Let’s wait here.”

Leveraging the mystical knowledge gleaned from the boon, he discerned that the Rebirth effect endured merely two minutes—its termination was imminent.

Abandoning their current location to embark on a quest for a more secure locale for spirit channeling would necessitate identifying another concealed setting, subjecting Lumian to an additional hour of repulsion before spirit channeling could ensue.

The optimal time frame for spirit channeling would subsequently elapse.

Moreover, Lumian harbored a reluctance to further procrastinate.

Stepping toward the altar, she set the mirror upon the pitch-black ring symbol crafted from thorns, thereby maintaining the enshrouding black flames.

This facilitated Lumian’s observation.

Fixated on Guillaume Bénet’s pale and ashen visage, ensnared beneath the duality of black flames and ice, Lumian smirked with brilliant satisfaction gradually etched upon his lips. He uttered, “You’re truly foolish!

“If I were you, I’d evade and refrain from launching an assault post Steel Body activation, awaiting the adversary’s inevitable fatigue.

“Ah, I neglected to apprise you. My spirituality has plummeted below the safety threshold, thereby making spirit world traversal or even utilization of the Spell of Harrumph impossible. I’m barely able to kindle fire, changing my face, and using the brooch. Should you have bided your time, I would’ve neared my limit and fainted on the spot.

“I acted rashly and reacted relatively slowly towards the end. On the one hand, I didn’t want to expend more spirituality and wanted to save them for critical moments. On the other hand, Mirror Substitution consumed Franca’s spirituality. On the other hand, heh heh, it was a trap for you.

“Do you remember the flaming flower? Without this ‘gift’ to complete Bribe, Franca’s curse wouldn’t have been able to kill you, a Sequence 5…”

Upon hearing the term Spell of Harrumph and recalling Lumian’s actions of knocking out two fake Guillaume Bénets in a row, Franca’s eyelids twitched in shock and confusion.

Jenna looked at Lumian, who kept mocking the Spirit Body in the mirror, and tugged at Franca with a measure of concern. She whispered, “Perhaps we should attempt to assuage him?”

“No need.” Franca shook her head and took the initiative to distance herself from Lumian, giving him a “private” space to vent.

Jenna tersely acknowledged and followed Franca to the edge of the sacrificial hall, casting a lingering glance at the visage of pallid, pale-white and ashen hues reflected within the mirror.

Guillaume Bénet emanated a mixture of hostility, terror, and ultimately—despair.

…

Dill brothel, sixth floor.

On a distant balcony, Albus positioned himself in a discreet corner, his concealed gaze unwaveringly fixed upon Room 602.

Once Lumian and his companions had seemingly “teleported” away, Albus stepped out from his concealment, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

To think a mere Sequence 7 individual wields an artifact that enables traversal of the spirit world?

His connection with Red Boots isn’t simple. Whether Gardner Martin is privy to this or remains in the dark, I wonder…

As he muttered, Albus’s smile carried a hint of ambiguity and playful intrigue.

…

50 Rue Vincent, underground sacrificial hall.

Lumian’s continuous taunting endured until the Rebirth effect gradually subsided, a shadow darkening Guillaume Bénet’s eyes.

Meanwhile, Franca, intently calculating the elapsed time, positioned herself near the altar and erected a wall of spirituality, priming herself for the forthcoming endeavor.

With the moment at hand, she softly intoned the incantation, engaging her self-devised Magic Mirror Spirit Channeling Spell.

Yet, just as success appeared imminent, Lumian summoned the Decency brooch’s Distortion once again, rerouting the inquiry of the Magic Mirror Spirit Channeling Spell toward himself.

In a final bid for success within a singular attempt, he even invoked the Niese Face, transfiguring into Franca once more.

Almost instantaneously, the mirror’s surface dimmed, casting Guillaume Bénet’s pale visage into a slightly blurred disposition.

With his capacity to sustain the Niese Face dissipated, Lumian reverted to his original form and shifted his focus back to Guillaume Bénet.

“Who led you to place faith in Inevitability?”

Although Franca harbored a degree of curiosity, she was mindful of the repercussions of Lumian broaching forbidden topics, thus jeopardizing her corruption. Subsequently, she parted the wall of spirituality, positioning herself at a distance from the altar.

Guillaume Bénet, in a somewhat dazed state, responded, “It was Aurore Lee!

“Upon discovering that the faith of an accursed deity was disseminating, she covertly approached me, affirming that I could harness superpowers without supplicating the bishops. Moreover, I was assured of the prospect of obtaining godhood in the future, potentially ascending to the rank of saint and thereby securing eternal life.

“At the time, I remained skeptical. Nevertheless, my curiosity compelled me to withhold judgment. Over time, however, I witnessed her burgeoning might, my reservations gradually subsiding.”

After a brief lull, Lumian inquired, his blue gaze intense, “Who influenced Aurore Lee to embrace Inevitability?”

“I don’t know.” Guillaume Bénet’s bewilderment was palpable as he shook his head.

Following a moment of contemplation, Lumian continued his line of questioning, “What profound impression did Aurore Lee leave upon you?”

Guillaume Bénet’s countenance shifted, a semblance of recollection mingling with apprehension.

“S-she said that she wasn’t Aurore Lee!”