Novel Full Chapter 350 - 350 Negative Effects
350 Negative Effects
“How can that be?” Jenna exclaimed, her surprise and confusion evident.
She recollected the mysticism gathering’s conclusion, where participants dispersed through various routes at sporadic intervals. The two of them had been cautious, ensuring they left no clues. So, how had they been followed?
Observing Jenna’s restraint from looking back, Franca calmly moved ahead and whispered,
“Who knows? Perhaps another participant chose this route and stumbled upon someone ahead. They might want to tail us, hoping for an opportunity to strike it big. Or maybe someone with unusual skills tracked us in an unexpected way.
“Let’s keep moving forward as if nothing’s amiss. We’ll be safe once we reach the street under the arcade.
“If our pursuer strikes before then, drop the carbide lamp immediately and hide in the nearby shadows. Depending on the situation, you can decide how to join the fight.”
Jenna nodded subtly, indicating her willingness to follow Franca’s instructions.
Unintentionally, she tightened her grip on the carbide lamp.
After traversing the dark, damp tunnel for a hundred to two hundred meters, Franca slowed down and glanced back with confusion.
“The stalker has vanished…
“It’s also possible that he found a way to bypass the spider silk I left behind…”
As she finished speaking, a figure emerged from the darkness ahead, illuminated by the carbide lamp’s glow.
Jenna reacted swiftly, dropping the carbide lamp in her left hand and blending into the shadows.
Relying on her Mirror Substitution technique, Franca didn’t rush to evade. Instead, she fixed her gaze on the stalker who had circled around to confront them.
It was the man masquerading as a Warlock, his face concealed beneath a hooded shadow.
The entrustee!
He gazed at Franca and deliberately spoke in a high-pitched voice, “I want to strike a deal with you guys.”
…
Behind the Krismona Night Pillar, Lumian trailed behind Hela, clutching a new white candle that flickered in the dim light. They followed the worn stone steps, seemingly descending into the depths of hell.
The stone walls on either side slowly gave way, revealing intricate reliefs of human heads. Dark gray figures clustered together, reminiscent of the countless bones piled high in the upper tomb.
As Lumian completed the descent and stepped onto the hushed fourth level of the catacombs, an overwhelming restlessness overcame him. It was as if he had been imprisoned for a long time, yearning for freedom.
This sensation wasn’t unfamiliar; it was a side effect of the Armored Shadow contract, but it had never been this intense before!
It was as if his spirit felt trapped within his body, finally becoming cognizant of the truth.
It sought to break free from this “cage,” to shatter this world and gain true freedom.
Phew… Lumian exhaled slowly, calming himself down.
Even without the Alms Monk boon, he believed he could manage these turbulent emotions. With the Alms Monk’s power, he could control them even better.
According to Madam Justice, the higher one’s Sequence, the more susceptible they are to madness and the hidden corruption of the fourth level of the catacombs. Is that what I’m experiencing? Is it because my Sequence isn’t high that I could endure and control it? Lumian quickly made a guess about the current situation. He instinctively looked up and cast his gaze diagonally at Hela.
Her neck is slender, mostly concealed in the widow-like attire’s collar, a suitable target for snapping…
Just as this thought crossed Lumian’s mind, he hurriedly shook his head, dismissing the negative effects of the Abscessed Hand’s contract.
Simultaneously, he noticed that Hela’s face had turned pale-whiter, resembling a corpse that had been dead for many days rather than a living human.
In an instant, Hela produced a military flask, unscrewed the cap, and downed its contents.
Lumian caught a whiff of the strong scent of alcohol.
Silently, he muttered, It should be liquor… Could Hela be like the alcoholics in Feysac, carrying multiple flasks with her?
After finishing a third of the bottle in a single gulp, Hela’s complexion flushed slightly as she inquired, “Which way should we go?”
Lumian responded honestly, “It’s in an ancient tomb on the westernmost side. We have a general idea of the area, but not the exact location.”
Hela nodded and glanced at the top of the tomb, where a thick black line was drawn with arrows pointing in various directions.
Combining this with the signs near the entrance, Lumian could roughly discern the route leading west.
Nevertheless, he pulled out a compass he had prepared beforehand to confirm.
Under the feeble candlelight, the compass needle oscillated continuously, erratic and unceasing.
“It’s acting crazy,” Lumian commented, attempting to alleviate his pent-up irritation with humor.
“We’ll have to rely on the road signs and black lines,” Hela responded, seemingly expecting this.
Lumian sighed, eyeing the erratically moving compass. He chuckled self-deprecatingly.
“If it never stops, could it power a perpetual motion machine?”
Hela glanced at him.
“Aren’t you a believer in the Eternal Blazing Sun?”
Lumian replied sincerely, “At least for now, I am.”
Hela didn’t press the topic further. Following the road sign beside her and the black lines above, she stepped to the right.
“The Marianne Night Pillar and Lius Night Pillar are both on this floor. There’s also François’s Tomb, the Blood Order Hall, and Crazy Shrooms Cave… Uh, the style of this name is completely different from the others,” Lumian rambled, diverting his attention from the road sign.
The most noticeable difference between the fourth and third levels was the absence of corpses lining the path. It appeared wider and cleaner, yet it was eerie in its silence.
The ancient tombs had sealed entrances, concealing their contents from prying eyes.
Without turning around, Hela remarked, “Does your mental unrest manifest in talking and rambling more?”
“Not exactly. Talking just helps me cope with the irritation,” Lumian admitted.
They continued to navigate, using the road signs and black lines to adjust their direction as they went along.
As Lumian passed by the partially natural tomb cave named the Order Hall, the outer soil tinged with a hint of blood, he suddenly spotted someone.
It was a woman in a plain white robe, her black hair flowing down her back, and her features extraordinarily exquisite, perfectly harmonious. Her aura was so pure that she seemed out of place in this silent and filthy tomb.
Despite having seen a Demoness of Pleasure frequently, Lumian couldn’t help but be amazed. He even felt an unholy urge to ravage her.
This wasn’t just a drawback of Flog’s boxing gloves; it was a dark impulse from the depths of his heart.
Lumian snapped out of it. The woman had sparkling blue eyes, cold and lifeless, and her hands were empty, holding an unlit white candle!
In the catacombs, the living would vanish without the protection of the white candle’s flames!
Lumian’s body tensed as the woman slipped into the surrounding darkness, blocked by the outer wall of the Blood Order Hall, and disappeared without a trace.
“What are you looking at?” Hela’s cold voice cut through the silence.
“Didn’t you see?” Lumian recounted the scene he had witnessed in detail.
Hela fell silent for a few seconds before saying, “I didn’t see it indeed. However, as soon as you stopped moving, I cast my gaze in that direction.”
“Was I the only one who could see it? Or was I the only one allowed to see it?” Lumian couldn’t be certain if it was due to Termiboros’s influence, his Sequence, or his gender.
Hela pondered for a moment and replied, “Don’t concern yourself with such matters. It’s normal for special wraiths and evil spirits to linger in the depths of the catacombs, but this place is like a powerful seal. As long as you don’t break the rules and trigger an anomaly, you should be safe.”
Lumian nodded.
“I was just thinking,” Lumian began, “Ordinary tourists and adventurous college students wouldn’t be able to pass through the third level of the tomb to reach this place. Why did they produce the guiding black line and accurate road signs? Who are they for?”
Hela answered as she took another step forward, “Official Beyonders who come here regularly to clean up and tomb administrators who patrol the area every day.”
She then offered a simple reminder. “Based on your description, the female figure you saw earlier resembles a high-ranking Demoness.”
Lumian’s heart skipped a beat.
“Could it be the lingering vengeful spirit of the Demoness of Catastrophe, Krismona?”
“I’m not sure,” Hela replied, taking another sip from her military flask.
Lumian casually glanced around, his eyelids twitching.
He noticed a purplish-red patch on the back of Hela’s right hand.
It hadn’t been there before.
It resembled the livor mortis seen on the deceased!
Is this the effect of the corruption on the fourth level of the catacombs? Is Madame Hela using alcohol to resist it? Lumian continued his small talk.
Amidst his babbling, they meandered through the unmarked ancient tombs and eventually reached the westernmost area of the floor.
At the edge of the rock wall, dozens or possibly hundreds of ancient tombs stretched out of sight.
Just as Lumian was about to ask Hela if she could expedite the search for their target, he heard knocking from an ancient tomb nearby.
Both Hela and Lumian tensed, their eyes fixed on the tomb as more of its damaged stone walls crumbled, revealing a dark cavern that humans could enter and exit.
A figure emerged, hunched over.
Lumian, filled with tension, wanted to unleash a Giant Fireball, but he restrained himself, opting to observe first.
The man who crawled out of the ancient tomb held a lit white candle, dusted off his clothes, and slowly straightened up.
Dressed in a black seer’s robe commonly seen in circuses, he had brownish-black skin, a slender build, curly black hair, and deep-set eyes. A crystal-like monocle adorned his right eye. He was none other than the Islander swindler, Monette.
Monette flashed a smile at Lumian and Hela.
“What a coincidence!”