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Simultaneously, he sighed silently.

<nulli>No wonder people who believe in evil gods love to convert their parents, spouses, and children into one. Otherwise, no matter how cautious they are, many details can’t be hidden from their families who spend day and night with them…

Anthony Reid held the quietly burning cigarette in his hand and pondered for a few seconds before saying, “How did Philip die?”

The information he had gathered so far indicated that General Philip had succumbed to a sudden ailment, but that was the public declaration. The actual situation remained unknown.

Annis’s tone drifted as she replied, “He had a heart attack in the middle of the night and couldn’t make it to the hospital before he died.”

Anthony Reid asked calmly, “Where’s his body?”

“It was purified, cremated, and sent to the family cemetery in Quartier de l’Erato.” What Annis said was public information.

Lumian turned to Anthony Reid.

“Ask her about the fate of his Beyonder characteristics.”

He believed that Philip was definitely a Beyonder. After all, he had managed to rise up the ranks to general in the army, and he also came from an aristocratic family—the chances of him not being a Beyonder were slim.

After the Psychiatrist finished his question, Annis said in a daze, “What are Beyonder characteristics?”

Anthony Reid analyzed the mentality and knowledge of the individual and changed his question.

“Where did the thing that emerged from Philip’s body go? Or did he have any special items on or around him? Where did it go?”

Annis recalled and said, “When the servant arrived to carry him downstairs to take the carriage, he told me with difficulty that if he died, there was no need to be surprised by any strange changes in his body. I was to stow away the thing that appeared and leave them for the children.

“L-later, too many things happened during the funeral, and I was too sad. That thing disappeared and was never to be found…”

<nulli>Never to be found… Lumian had long suspected that General Philip was faking his death. Now, he was more inclined to believe it.

He even felt that the other party’s Beyonder characteristics hadn’t truly emerged. The phenomenon Annis saw and the thing she had put away were an illusion created by a corresponding ability or ritual, and they naturally vanished in time.

Anthony Reid, who had discussed this matter with Lumian and the others several times, clearly had similar thoughts. His voice was calm as he asked, “What did it look like?”

Annis’s Body of Heart and Mind replied in a voice, “It was his fist. It turned skinless, and the joints were like black metal. They were very sharp, and they easily cut through the back of the chair…”

<nulli>The Beyonder characteristic fused with a certain part of the body, transforming into the potion’s main ingredient… Lumian was experienced in this.

Anthony Reid further inquired and confirmed that Annis didn’t have much information. She didn’t even know the Sequence of General Philip’s original pathway.

Seeing this, Lumian circled the master bedroom, and his gaze landed on a photo frame on the desk.

On it was a photo of Philip’s family, but color photography technology that had emerged in recent years wasn’t used.

In the family portrait, General Philip wore a high-ranking military officer’s suit adorned with numerous medals. He wasn’t too tall, and judging from the surrounding items for scale, he stood about 1.7 meters tall.

His hair was thick and slightly curled, and his eyes were small, but they had the sharpness of an eagle staring at its prey. The beard around his mouth was neatly trimmed, and the tip was even coated with paraffin. The bridge of his nose was unique, as if it had been broken and hadn’t healed, causing the middle section to bulge.

Lumian observed closely and memorized Philip’s exact appearance and characteristics.

If he had truly faked his death to escape his original fate, according to Madam Justice, this likely involved the loss of an old fate and the acquisition of a new one. It wouldn’t alter his appearance.

In other words, the current individual was likely a stranger who looked identical to General Philip. Lumian hoped to recognize him at a glance if he encountered him in the future.

“Let’s go,” Anthony Reid concluded his Telepathy and said to Lumian in disappointment.

Lumian wasn’t disheartened by the setback. He nodded gently and said, “To that charity organization.”

The purpose of the charity organization, known as the Dreamseekers, was to provide assistance to outstanding young men who had come to Trier to pursue their dreams but had temporarily fallen into a predicament. To this end, even the staff employed such young men and provided them with free apartments.

The apartments were located in a house rented by the Dreamseekers. The lower two floors housed workplaces, and the upper two floors housed staff quarters.

Ossa, who controlled the charitable organization, also resided there, indicating that he was genuinely assisting the Dreamseekers and not seizing the opportunity to amass wealth.

After leaving Rue Lviv, Lumian and the others hurried towards Quartier 2, the arts and financial district.

Quartier 2 was very close to Quartier 3, where they were currently located. Before long, they arrived not far from Rue Saint-Varro.

The Dreamseekers was located in Building 11 there.

As soon as they alighted from the carriage and before they could approach the street where their target was, Lumian and Anthony Reid saw crimson flames rising in the dark night.

Fierce flames transformed a building into a colossal torch in the night.

Lumian’s eyes narrowed as he had a bad premonition.

After exchanging glances with Anthony Reid, they sprinted towards Rue Saint-Varro.

<nulli>Thud! Thud! Thud! The two of them passed through an alley with a barricade and saw that the house that had turned into a fiery hell was Building 11. It was the office and staff quarters of the Dreamseekers!

The crackling flames soared into the air, sealing off the four-story building and scorching it black. No one cried out for help or attempted to leap down from the windows. It was as silent as if everyone had died long ago.

Residents of the street woke up and fled in a hurry, others wanting to help the firefighters or watching the commotion from afar.

Anthony Reid looked at the burning building and sighed. “We’re too late…”

Lumian stared intently for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“No.

“Perhaps fate doesn’t want us to gain anything. No matter how early we arrive, we’ll see something similar.”

With so many evil god-blessed involved in the planning, investigations would inevitably encounter various forms of interference. Some were direct, some indirect, some seemingly normal, some rather bizarre, and some seemingly failing to gain fate’s favor.

Lumian paused momentarily before continuing,

“At least this means we’re on the right path.”

Anthony Reid fell silent for a few seconds before saying, “This indirectly proves General Philip’s connection to an evil god’s faith. My encounter with my comrades might stem from this…”

As he spoke, his voice trailed off.

Dozens of meters away from the burning building, Lumian’s face mirrored the fiery inferno as he gazed ahead, his voice steady.

“Do you still want to pursue this?”

“This situation is getting more perilous with each passing moment. It’s far more dangerous than the encounter with gunfire you’ve experienced before.”

“Up to this day, do you still wrestle with the fear from that night, the sounds of sudden gunshots? Do you truly possess the courage and determination to press on?”

Anthony Reid lapsed into silence. The middle-aged man, battle-hardened and weathered, remained contemplative for an extended moment.

Before them loomed a house engulfed in raging crimson flames. Masked firefighters in their red and blue uniforms, citizens in disarray, and chaos swirled around them.

After an uncertain pause, the Psychiatrist, his receding hairline and slightly plump face, spoke softly.

“Perhaps I perished in that attack. What remains is an avenging spirit, relentless in its pursuit of truth and retribution.

“I can be vanquished, but I can’t relinquish the pursuit. That’s what I felt when you mentioned the existence of leads and hope.”

Lumian offered a sly grin and turned toward Anthony.

“Welcome to the abyss of vengeance.”

…

Returning to the market district, Lumian wasted no time in composing a letter to Madam Magician, apprising her of the night’s operation and its final outcome.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that the current situation had stretched beyond the capabilities of his team. Regardless of the clues they unearthed, it seemed as though the threads of destiny conspired to sever them, leaving their investigations seemingly fated to failure.

This uncertainty gave Lumian pause, making him wary of delving deeper into the mystery, fearing that their actions might inadvertently endanger the slim glimmer of the less significant leads on your own. Termiboros resides within you—a heavy stone capable of stirring ripples in the River of Fate. He’s not easily swayed, unlike the hope they still clung to.

Before long, the “doll” messenger returned, bearing neatly folded papers.

“All fates intertwine to weave a grand drama.

“Should you come across any future clues, share the vital ones with me. Investigate the less significant leads on your own. Termiboros resides within you—a heavy stone capable of stirring ripples in the River of Fate. He’s not easily swayed, unlike the others.

“Furthermore, we shall make other attempts.”

<nulli>Other attempts… Lumian sensed that the Tarot Club had undertaken numerous clandestine endeavors, yet like his own, these investigations had ultimately proved futile.

Considering the Tarot Club’s potency, Lumian suspected that this case might be met with direct interference from angels or even evil gods.

After reducing the letter to ashes, Lumian reclined on his bed. As he prepared for sleep, he contemplated the direction his investigation should take.

“Linked to the Hostel, individuals engaged in painting, writing, and those with a penchant for reading tend to encounter trouble…”

In the whirlwind of his thoughts, Lumian’s mind settled on one person.

Gabriel, the playwright who had once taken up residence at Auberge du Coq Doré.

Gabriel had relocated to Rue Saint-Michel in Quartier 2, a district teeming with painters and authors. It was an ideal hub for artistic exchanges.

<nulli>Mr. K and the official organizations had only ruled out well-known painters and authors. Countless aspiring talents who hadn’t yet made a name for themselves flock to Trier. The investigation of all these hopefuls within a short span seems an insurmountable task. Moreover, many young dreamers pursuing artistic ambitions call this city home. The Dreamseekers had even thrown their records to the flames…

Lumian quickly reached a decision. At the break of dawn, he planned to visit Gabriel, inquiring whether the playwright had encountered any obscure authors or painters who had yet to garner recognition, or if any unusual anecdotes had circulated among these artistic circles.