Chapter 446 - 446 Prophecy
446 Prophecy
Witches are associated with negative forces that bring catastrophe… Catastrophe… Jenna, in her role as an Instigator, had come to understand that instigation inevitably led to catastrophe. However, given that the outcome depended on the subjective intentions of the Instigator and the uncertainty of the recipient, Jenna was quite sensitive to the term “catastrophe” and believed it could be a key element in portraying a Witch.
At the same time, she confirmed a suspicion.
Negative force… Witches do indeed represent a negative force…
Sequence 2 of the Assassin pathway is called Demoness of Catastrophe… This means that even at the demigod level, catastrophe is crucial…
Jenna nodded slightly and approached the door of the activity room. She turned the knob on the wall, causing the gas wall lamps to emit a dimmer light.
After doing the same for all four gas wall lamps, the room grew darker. The faint light blended with the shadows, creating an atmosphere of impending terror.
Franca surveyed the room, her curiosity piqued as she asked, “Are you trying to create a dark, terrifying, and eerie atmosphere?”
Jenna smiled and said, “Don’t Witches always appear in such settings in various plays and novels?”
“As expected of a true apprentice actress,” Franca praised Jenna, a sense of pride swelling within her. She, too, had quickly grasped the essence of portraying a Witch. she had even experimented with concocting dark potions for a period, though it paled in comparison to the work of Apothecaries.
In the gloomy and dimly lit room, Jenna returned to the calf.
She leaned forward slightly and, in a deep voice, whispered two words from the Hermes language, “His Grace.”
Nothing happened.
Outside the door, Lumian chuckled, recognizing Jenna’s commitment to her role. She knew she lacked the bestowed powers of Inevitability and couldn’t use the simplified Animal Creation Spell. To portray a Witch convincingly, she had to follow a predetermined process.
Lumian raised his voice, mimicking the grandeur of Termiboros, resembling a hidden entity responding to a Witch reciting an ominous incantation.
“His Grace.”
In the activity room, an eerie darkness enveloped the area, causing the brown cowhide to split open, revealing Bouvard Pont-Péro. He was dressed only in a white shirt, black pants, and dark socks.
With this accomplished, Lumian proceeded until he reached the entrance of 20 Rue de la Terrasse. Through the glass of the oriel window, he stared at the drizzle, which seemed to meld with the night.
Jenna crouched down and placed her right hand on Bouvard’s forehead.
From her palm, black flames emerged, seeping into the Sinners organization’s liaison.
These flames didn’t crackle but engulfed Bouvard like inky water.
After over ten seconds, Bouvard’s body convulsed violently.
Moments later, his body relaxed, and the smell of incontinence wafted through the air.
He had lost his life.
Dressed as a female mercenary, Jenna examined her attire with dissatisfaction. She stood and extended her hand to Franca.
Franca understood this as her acting as a mysterious and powerful Witch, so she handed her a bottle of Prophetic Concoction.
Jenna genuflected once more and poured the potion into Bouvard’s mouth.
The dark liquid, bubbling with silver-black light, flowed into the corpse’s mouth and lingered there.
A faint gust of wind blew, and the dim gas wall lamp’s light took on a faint blue hue.
Sensing this familiar change, Lumian knew that Bouvard was now entirely lifeless, and the power of the boon had returned to its source. Thus, he turned away from the door, passed Anthony Reid, and re-entered the activity room.
Gulp!
The sound of the corpse swallowing the liquid reached his ears.
With a swish, Bouvard sat up. His face was deathly pale, and his eyes had turned translucent and devoid of color.
As Jenna gazed into those clear eyes, she marveled at their magical quality—the vibrant colors, the pure light, the invisible form, and the mercurial ripples. She endured the intense chill and then turned her attention to Lumian and Franca.
She had no questions; she was merely acting.
Franca motioned for Lumian to take the lead in asking the questions, as she aimed to learn how to make better use of the remaining canister of Prophetic Concoction.
Lumian, well-versed in the rules, carefully considered the inquiry and addressed Jenna, saying, “Ask, where is Voisin Sanson, the former owner of the Voisin Café in the Trier region of the Intis Republic, this time next week?”
This question carried not only its apparent meaning but also a hidden implication.
If Bouvard’s corpse couldn’t provide a valid answer, or if the response seemed abnormal, it could indicate that Voisin Sanson had left the place where the powerful bestowed resided, possibly signaling an impending catastrophe.
Jenna nodded and posed the question to Bouvard’s lifeless form, her voice deep and enchanting.
The corpse’s pale face, tinged with a hint of dark green in the dim blue light, opened its mouth and replied in Intisian, “Room 7.”
Room 7… So specific? But there’s no restrictive description from before… Lumian originally imagined that Bouvard’s corpse would be like the deceased he had previously used, using a broader description like Trier’s Quartier de la Princesse Rouge. This could narrow down the scope of the Tarot Club’s investigation. However, he never expected Bouvard’s corpse to directly reveal Voisin Sanson’s room number.
To Lumian, this answer wasn’t as useful as the Quartier de la Princesse Rouge. There were countless Room 7s in Trier.
Furthermore, what if Room 7 wasn’t in Trier? It wasn’t necessary to plan a conspiracy while in Trier!
Bouvard is a bestowed of the Inevitability pathway. He possesses the power of fate and the corruption left behind by the power of Inevitability… After his corpse consumed the Prophetic Concoction, it must have seen more than the average deceased and foreseen it more clearly. Is that why such a change occurred? Lumian muttered inwardly.
He then asked for confirmation.
“Ask him where Pualis de Roquefort from the Dariège region of the Riston Province in the Intis Republic is this time next week.”
After hearing the Witch’s relating it, Bouvard’s corpse responded with an illusory and ethereal voice, “Room 12.”
Room 12, Room 7… Madame Pualis and Voisin Sanson are indeed in the same place. The powerful bestowed of these cults in Trier are gathered together. They definitely aren’t here for food and drink… Lumian nodded slightly and quickly thought of what to ask next.
From the two responses, he vaguely guessed that it had something to do with where the evil god bestowed were. The Prophecy Spell appeared significantly interfered with and was unable to provide precise information. He could only ask in another manner.
A few seconds later, Lumian looked at Jenna and said, “When will Voisin Sanson leave his current building?”
This question aimed to determine the timing of potential catastrophe or the significant operation.
The strange scenes in Bouvard’s eyes quickly dissipated. After hearing Jenna’s question, he opened his mouth and replied faintly, “Rain, water…”
Suddenly, Bouvard’s eyes burst open, and blood sprayed from them, leaving behind two contaminated black and red cavities.
His body started to swell, becoming pale, dim, and moist, as if he had been submerged in water for an extended period.
In the blink of an eye, the corpse vanished from the sight of Lumian and the others, as if it had never existed.
Franca, clutching the mirror and preparing to cast a curse on the mutated corpse, lost her target. She frantically scanned the area but found only remnants of the exploded eyeballs.
Drawing from her limited experience, Franca speculated, “Could it be that an extraordinary event or entity was prophesied, leading to a horrifying backlash that dragged him away into the unknown?”
She sighed and added, “See, divination and prophecies are treacherous undertakings.”
Lumian nodded in agreement and suggested, “Let’s leave now and head to Bouvard’s residence to secure the remaining spoils of our mission.”
“Yes, we must be cautious,” Jenna said, gazing up at the ceiling. “What shall we do with Paulina and the other heretics? Should we eliminate them all?”
“I’ll take care of it! I’ll handle this!” Franca eagerly raised her hand. “I want to find some enjoyment, no—pleasure for myself!”
She wanted to simply act.
Observing the perplexed expressions on Jenna and Lumian’s faces, Franca retorted,
“What’s on your minds? I’m not talking about that! That’s not the only way to have pleasure!”
Doing something to entertain herself? Lumian scoffed and walked out of the activity room, leaving a parting remark. “You have five minutes.”
Five minutes? Franca muttered as she settled in front of the brass mechanical typewriter. Donning gloves, she swiftly typed on the keyboard.
Before long, Paulina, the butler, and the others who were securely bound had notes attached to them. The notes read:
“We’re heretics!”
“Our faith is in an entity known as Inevitability!”
“Arrest us!”
“Our leader is Voisin Sanson!”
“Voisin Sanson and his core subordinates have gone somewhere. It’s said that they’ll stay for three months!”
“They went there over two months ago!
“I have Regeneration, Danger Premonition, and Electric Arc. Please be careful!”
After pasting the papers, Franca scanned the notes with a sense of delight.
She then turned her attention to the unconscious Paulina and remarked, “A Dancer’s flexibility might help you escape the ropes. I can only add two more layers of unconsciousness to you.”
With that, she ignited Paulina’s Spirit Body with black flames, significantly weakening her. She followed this with the Bliss Society’s sedative.
Clap! Clap! Franca clapped her hands together and left the room, leaving behind black flames that burned all kinds of traces.
…
After ensuring the success of their police report, Lumian and his companions retrieved assets that could be quickly converted into cash from Bouvard’s residence in the library district.
Reverting to his original appearance and taking a carriage back to the market district, Lumian was on the verge of inquiring Franca about something when he noticed a figure darting through the darkness outside the window.
The figure was dressed in a white shirt, black pants, and dark socks. Its eye sockets were hollow and empty, and its skin appeared swollen and pale, as if it had been soaked in water.
Bouvard Pont-Péro!
Bouvard Pont-Péro’s previously vanished corpse!