Lumian continued rocking by the window.
A quiet, soothing calm washed over him, and soon his mind slipped into a state of deep stillness.
Without stopping, he reached into his coat and pulled out his amethyst pendant. He brought it forward, and quickly entered a state of Invigoration.
It was unknown when he withdrew the pendant, and opened his eyes which felt as though they were glued.
Crossing his legs, he began to think carefully. Hmm, they are two traces of spirituality here, and this does not seem like a dark energy. From the patterns, no one has been here nor was they any sign of possession...
Hmm, perhaps it could be the influence of the Primordial Lord of Chaos... If this is the effect of the "Hakli" whispers, the chaos God should be the most scary deity.
Even after the God of Beginnings sealed him… his influence still leaks into the world.
Lumian leaned back slightly, recalling what he had once heard.
According to the Church of Skywalker, the Primordial Lord of Chaos was sealed high above—bound to an inverted cross, forever watched by Skywalker, the ruler of the skies and all that lies beyond.
And yet… even under the watch of two gods… he still exists.
Lumian let out a faint, almost amused smile. Then another thought surfaced.
Chaos... and... Order.
The Primordial Lord of Chaos… and the Almighty God.
If one represents disorder… and the other destroys any ritual that disrupts balance…
Then… to resurrect Aethera… they must have used Mr. Richard as a counterweight.
He fell silent for a moment. "…May Skywalker watch over him."
Reaching into his coat again, he took out a coin.
"…Was that really the cause of Mr. Richard's death?" he said quietly.
Clank.
The coin spun—and landed on its edge. Lumian stared at it.
"A dual outcome…"
He frowned. "So… Mr. Richard was actually involved with the Witches' Garden."
For a moment, he said nothing. Then he leaned back into the chair, letting it rock slowly.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Suddenly, a quiet chuckle escaped him, as he looked out the window.
Why was he laughing?
Because he had no answer, sometimes life only answers are basically answered with laughs, and joy.
A crooked smile formed slowly on his face as he finally stopped chuckling. …Why did he…? Mr. Richard... Why... And I kinda miss him, I only met and befriended him last year, but he's a very good guy... A funny and cheerful man, who loves his family.
A man who engaged in something bad and suffered the consequences, leaving his wife and child to grieve.
His lips twitched, until it returned to being crooked.
…If you think about it…
Life is nothing more than a game of choices.
But if it's a game… who decides the rules?
And why do we only understand them… after we've already lost?
He closed his eyes halfway.
My life… these roles…
…fuck it.
It's just a game of choices. A game where you never see the consequences… or the rewards… until it's too late to reload.
He let out a slow breath. And even the gods… they're playing too. One wrong move… and everything collapses.
He looked at the Crimson Sun once more and continued. But in a world filled with beings like them…
…what role do humans even play?
Lumian looked at the corpse slowly rotting bit by bit, and slowly shook his head, before resting on the chair, and falling asleep.
...
After some time, Lumian slowly drifted into sleep.
Then—
He found himself standing in a strange, dreamlike state. His body felt light… almost unreal. Even his vision was blurred, as if the world itself had lost its shape.
He looked ahead. Figures were dancing in the distance—but they were nothing more than vague silhouettes, twisting and swaying without form.
Above them, the clouds churned and shifted, as though responding to their dances.
Before he could make sense of it, his eyes snapped open.
Lumian found himself back in the room, and looked at the farmiliar environment. Bringing his gaze downward, he noticed that Patricia, the once still corpse was moving.
Her arm shot upward, her fingers twisting unnaturally as they locked tightly around his leg.
Her head tilted back, her face stretched into a crazed expression.
"Hakli… Hakli… Hakli…"
The whisper grew louder.
"Hakli… Hakli… Hakli…"
Lumian hairs flew straight up, he wanted to run, but with the cold sensation of the corpse arm tightly wrapped around his leg, there was nothing he could do.
He couldn't even think properly, he believed all hope was lost... Until... his eyes snapped open once more.
"Hakli... Hakli... Hakli."
He looked around and noticed Patricia corpse was still dead, and devoid of warmth. He breathed softly, but could still hear the whispers faintly in his head.
The situation was another dream!
...
Lumian steadied his breathing, though his hand still trembled uncontrollably. Yet deep within him… there was an entirely different feeling.
It was calm, peaceful even. It was as if he stood at the peak of a mountain, untouched by everything below.
Could this be one of the Pale Moon Goddess dreams? Hmmm, I don't think so, if it was, I would have been dead by now, or protected by my Eidolon.
And those figures, they were praising and dancing...
And this feeling... Could it be my Law?
His expression shifted again, uncertainty creeping in.
…Or was it corruption from the Primordial Lord of Chaos influence?
Without wasting time, he pulled out his coin.
"The dream just now… was it connected to me—and is it dangerous?"
He flipped it.
Clank.
The coin landed on his palm, as he looked at the outcome.
It was a forward coin!
Lumian stared at it for a second—then exhaled.
…It favors me.
A slow smile spread across his face.
I've finally received a Law.
The tension in his body eased, replaced by a quiet excitement.
He was only one step away from advancing. Lowering his gaze, he began to piece the fragments together.
"The dream… what exactly was it trying to show me…?"
...
They were dancing and praising...
Lumian's gaze lowered as he replayed the scene in his mind.
Their forms were unclear… faceless… almost like projections.
... Perhaps, spirits. Because if they manifest in dreams, they are usually distorted.
... And they were praising something... Hmm, unseen entities?"
Lumian sighed and continued. And there was the matter of the whispers. Could it be that the Primordial Lord of Chaos was trying to tempt me, in the process of obtaining my Law.
He exhaled slowly.
I think I understand, The higher you climb… the clearer the whispers become. And I'm at a low phase for now, so I have nothing to worry about. Kinda reminds me of Cosmic horror. He said with a faint chuckle.
He leaned back slightly, continuing to piece it together.
"Praising… dancing… spiritual projections…"
He repeated them over and over again, until he finally straightened up and understood the meaning. And it was basically simple.
"My Law..."
"Is to perform a spirit dance..."
...
According to what Lumian had heard, Spirit Dance was not something new.
It had existed long ago—a ritual practice used as a medium to communicate with spirituality and the surrounding environment.
"…A bridge between the physical and the unseen," he murmured.
And what made it perfect was that it basically aligned with the characteristics of a Magician and Diviner!
But why does this Law seem too easy... Though I never expected the kind of task to be given. But could the Creator give something so straightforward, or could it be because I'm at a low phase.
And can law vary? Maybe one, two or even three at a time. Lumian continued with a chuckle. Well I just have to not risk dieing and find out, heh.
Now that he had obtained a Law, the next step was clear. The Magician formula.
But Mrs. Hathway had gone, and getting her number from captain would seem rather suspicious... Even the matter of him advancing within barely two months would spark alot of questions.
Having thought it through, he decided to keep the matter pending for the time being.
...
Lumian rubbed his faint beard thoughtfully before pulling out his coin.
"Did Aethera give the text to Mrs. Theresa's husband out of fear of other parties."
He flipped it.
Clink.
The coin landed—revealing the face of the former King of Betyl.
It was a forward position, indicating the matter was a positive outcome!
Hmm, fear... That means why she had not recieved it, is because, she doesn't want the other party to trace her and have a confrontation...
She rather keep it far away from her for the time being... Hmm... That's actually smart.
...
Harper Cemetery, near Blackhead District.
The next day—
The morning at Harper Cemetery was quiet and solemn. A gentle breeze passed through the rows of tombstones as mourners stood in silence.
Lumian, dressed in a black coat, lowered his head. He quietly dabbed at his eyes with a white handkerchief.
Beside him, a woman with orange hair stared at the grave, her lips trembling before she finally spoke.
"I still can't believe she's gone… just like that." Her voice cracked slightly. "No child… nothing left. None of this would've happened if Lacey hadn't disappeared…"
She exhaled shakily, her gaze lingering on the tombstone.
"…May God bless you."
With that, she turned and walked away.
...
Not long after, Lumian was called forward to help lower the coffin into the grave.
Slowly… carefully… it was placed beneath the earth.
When it was done, Lumian stepped back and turned slightly.
Lury stood nearby, her face pale, her eyes filled with tears.
"She was like a mother to all of us…" she whispered.
Her voice trembled.
"But why…?"
"Why did she have to lose her husband…?"
"Why… her son…?"
Her shoulders shook.
"…Why did she lose to grief…?"
Lumian said nothing, neither did Hargreaves. The tears dropped and dropped, creating the only noise under the gloomy atmosphere.
As the grave was gradually filled with soil, Lumian straightened. Only then did he realize—
They had buried them together. They were all side by side.
The sight made his chest tighten. He bowed his head, his voice barely audible.
"…I'm sorry."
"…May Skywalker be with you all."
He lifted his gaze, looking at the portrait placed atop the grave.
It was the same one from Lacey's temporary home, at the abandoned house.
Patricia stood on the left, gently stroking Lacey's hair with a warm smile.
Beside them, Duke Joshua sat with a newspaper, a faint smile on his face.
A complete family.
Frozen in a moment that would never return.
Lumian exhaled slowly, pressing his coat as the morning breeze passed through the crowd.
Above them, the crimson sun was once more setting, bringing the morning to a open.
...
Lumian lifted his gaze toward the crimson sun.
"For humans…"
He paused.
"…we're nothing more than pawns in a struggle for power."
A faint breath left his lips.
"In the end… we're just trying to survive."
"…and that alone already makes us the weakest."