534 Over the Mountain
534 Over the Mountain

It was today, amidst Lumian’s contemplation of his next moves, that he seemed to snap out of a dream-like trance. The recollection of his intention to write a letter to Madam Magician, now forgotten, hit him like a bullet.

The realization was more unsettling than a battlefield injury, sending shivers down his spine, and causing his hair to stand on end.

Had this situation escalated, he might have perished without even realizing it!

It feels like déjà vu… That’s right! In Dardel, Lugano and I had unintentionally overlooked the option of escaping. We were searching for a pretext to enter the town and investigate Derangement. As Lumian’s thoughts raced, a sudden revelation struck him.

The woman he had seen weeping on the Flying Bird was the source of Derangement—a humanoid Sealed Artifact that had escaped its restraints!

After leaving Dardel, she had reached Port Gati and boarded the Flying Bird.

Could she be instinctively influencing the minds of those around her, erasing thoughts that might pose a threat? But that would require her to monitor everyone’s psychological activities at just the right time.

Or, as Anthony had speculated, did she naturally implant mental cues, causing observers to overlook her existence? Even if glimpsed, the memory of her would fade later. Simultaneously, any communication with High-

Sequence Beyonder powers would be ‘actively’ forgotten or abandoned. This classification wasn’t determined by her but by the individual’s self-

awareness. If they believed the person to be a High-Sequence Beyonder, then so they were…

Once she disembarked and ceased planting those natural and persistent cues, the overlooked issues could be recalled through other connections.

Fortunately, the Sealed Artifact remained dormant on the Flying Bird. Otherwise, I might have lost control and transformed into a monster…

Apart from me and Ludwig, she also played a part in scaring off Bone Splitter Basil? Heh heh, it’s quite funny from the perspective of the notorious pirate. Choosing an ordinary merchant ship for plunder, Basil found himself faced with three escalating waves of malice upon surfacing—a hornet’s nest stirred into action. In that scenario, he had no other choice but to escape.

Were the strange Death Navigator fish also drawn by her presence?

Initially, Lumian felt lingering fear, but soon a sense of joy washed over him.

This revelation confirmed that his contribution to the calamities on the Flying Bird was minimal, just as Aurore had suggested. Throughout the journey, only the Demon Warlock incident could be attributed to him.

Lumian could accept such frequency.

With determination, Lumian retrieved a post-it note and fountain pen, hastily scribbling a memo:

“Find a nearby motel and write to Madam Magician. Focus on the death mark and the humanoid Sealed Artifact.”

After folding the note and stowing it in his pocket, Lumian utilized Lugano’s interactions with the dock’s inhabitants to discreetly inquire about nearby motels. Lowering his voice, he addressed his left chest.

“Temiboros, you actually failed to notice such a dangerous Sealed Artifact nearby.”

Termiboros’s majestic voice resonated. “Why should I warn you?”

Lumian criticized, Oh, you’ve learned the art of sophistry… He turned to Ludwig, who was nibbling on a long piece of bread.

I wonder if this kid’s lack of awareness stems from the Church of Knowledge’s seal or a belief that there was no danger since the woman hadn’t gone mad. I don’t have to dwell on it for now… Averting his gaze, he waited for Lugano to gather directions before leading Ludwig toward the exit of the port district.

Port Santa stood divided, its territories sliced into thirds. One-third bustled with the comings and goings of fishermen, surrounded by a vast open space. Nearby, three ice mills hummed with activity. The remaining two-thirds, a realm reserved for merchant ships, witnessed a constant influx of passengers. Mechanical cranes labored tirelessly, lifting smelted steel, forged swords, and woven wool into the undercabin.

Amidst the pungent scent of fish, Lumian maintained an outward calm. Sometimes, his gaze wandered to the distant mountain range; other times, he scrutinized the billowing black smoke drifting from the southeast, carried downwind by the breeze.

Tasking Lugano and Ludwig with selecting two candidates each, Lumian delegated the decision-making. Ultimately, they settled at an unassuming motel named Solow.

In Highlander, “Solow” translated to “sun.”

Although the Feynapotter Kingdom didn’t subscribe to the Eternal Blazing Sun faith, instead venerating Earth Mother, the prevalence of sunlight in their environment resulted in the frequent use of words like “Solow” and “Soros” (sunlight) in various place names.

Lumian removed his golden straw hat, shielding him from the October sun, and secured a suite from the motel’s owner—a gray-haired, tall figure with prominent cheekbones and a thick beard. The cost: 1.5 gold risot per day, or 3 verl d’or.

Official currencies in Feynapotter included risot, setta, and degan. Legend had it that before the kingdom’s split from the south-central regions, the Church of Earth Mother and the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom jointly governed the land. Unlike the Loen Kingdom’s unconventional gold pound system, Feynapotter’s currency was designed by scholars from the Church of Knowledge. One risot equaled 10 settas, and one setta equaled 10 degans, denominated as five degans, whole degan, half degan, and a quarter degan. Currently, one risot was roughly 2 verl d’or, making 12 risot equivalent to approximately 1 gold pound.

Having exchanged for 1,000 risot, Lumian held a variety of settas and degans in his possession.

After settling the bill and ascending to his quarters, Lumian’s attention was drawn to a young girl with long brown hair and freckles entering the establishment. She greeted the proprietor using the Highlander term for “grandfather.”

The owner, his cheekbones tinged by the sun, warmly embraced the girl, their right cheeks meeting as he responded with a smile and a single word

unfamiliar to Lumian. Puzzled, he turned to Lugano, seeking an explanation with his eyes.
“Ol’ Delva said, ‘It’s so good to see you, my little cabbage.'”

“Little cabbage…” Lumian echoed, taken aback by the term.

Lugano, with his pronounced eyebrows, large eyes, and sharp features, inquired with confusion, “Don’t you know that there are many descendants of Dariège here?”

Positioned on the second-floor staircase, he gestured towards the wall outside.

“The distant mountain range is the Pyraez mountain range. You Dariège folks prefer calling it the Dariège mountain range.”

At that moment, Lumian grasped the entirety of the situation.

“Is this south of the Dariège mountain range?”

“Southwest. The Dariège mountain range is a few hours away by train. In between, you’ll find vast plains, pastures, and numerous towns and villages,” Lugano clarified as he ascended the stairs. “As you might know, every autumn, shepherds from Dariège and nearby areas migrate to the southern plains for grazing. Some settle down, while others seek opportunities in the larger surrounding cities, including Port Santa.

“If you head northeast, Highlander might not be necessary. Many people there are familiar with Intisian. I have a cousin who was a widow initially. Later, she met a local while shepherding and married him. She gave up grazing and helped the herdsmen develop businesses related to sheep, cheese, wool, and more. Eventually, they saved enough to start a vineyard. Her husband values her opinions. This might be an example of Feynapotter men. Unfortunately, I’m not a woman; otherwise, I might have converted to Earth Mother!”

Listening to Lugano’s insights, Lumian recalled a piece of information Aurore had once shared.

The Dariège mountain range acted as a barrier against the cold winds heading south.

Consequently, the Gaia Province, situated south of the Dariège mountain range, enjoyed abundant sunlight and warm weather. Even in winter, the plains and pastures thrived with lush grass suitable for grazing. Lumian sensed that this knowledge had become “dynamic,” forming a network that allowed him to comprehend the geographical and weather characteristics of Port Santa and its northeastern region.

Abruptly, another thought crossed his mind.

Could it be that most of the Beyonders captured by shepherds like Pierre, who believed in Inevitability, hailed from this area?

Given the presence of a thriving port and a mountain range rich in mineral deposits, it makes sense that there would be more Beyonders here…

If that were the case, perhaps my Hunter, Provoker, and even Pyromaniac Beyonder characteristics might have originated from this region.

I’m here now…

Why do I smell the scent of inevitability…

Lumian responded casually to Lugano’s information, “How many children did your cousin have?”

“Three,” Lugano replied.

“If she hadn’t produced children, would her husband have been so obedient?” Lumian, aware of the beliefs of Earth Mother’s faith, heard about these matters with the shepherds who frequented the pastures.

They held fertility and reproduction in high regard.

“Definitely not,” Lugano affirmed without hesitation.

As the conversation unfolded, the trio ascended to the fifth floor, entering a suite at the corridor’s end.

Lumian strolled to the balcony, casting his gaze towards the rugged mountain range in the distance.

There lay a highlander pasture and Cordu.

After nearly fifteen minutes of silent contemplation, Lumian returned to his room and began composing letters to Madam Magician and Franca.

His intention was to inform Franca of the humanoid Sealed Artifact, urging her to alert the official Beyonders of the Feynapotter Kingdom through 007. A potentially hazardous pathogen capable of madness at any moment was not fit for roaming freely outside.

…

“Wow! See? What did I say? Lumian will definitely encounter the source of Derangement again!” exclaimed Franca as she was about to depart with Jenna when she received the letter.

They were heading to Trier’s catacombs.

In the preceding days, Jenna harbored a desire to revisit Krismona Night Pillar, hoping to uncover something valuable. However, she hesitated to approach recklessly, fearing it might attract the suspicion of the Demoness Sect. Residing with Franca offered no guarantee of safety from their watchful eyes.

Thanks to Anthony’s introduction, she finally secured a mission at a mysticism gathering, providing a valid pretext.

Her task involved venturing to a specific family’s tomb on the catacombs’ third level, retrieving an antique tearcatcher for her employer.