Chapter 672 - Chapter 672: Greater Trouble
Chapter 672: Greater Trouble
Translator: CKtalon
Upon hearing Padre Cali’s shout, Rhea raised her hunting bow and aimed an arrow wrapped in silver lightning at the clergyman in the complicated black robe. Unlike when she had faced the cafe owner, Bunia, the anger in her eyes was even more pronounced now, and there was no hesitation. The padre was blaspheming and apostatizing!
At that moment, a slender and powerful palm appeared in front of Rhea’s hunting bow, blocking the arrow.
“You…” Rhea turned to Louis Berry, puzzled as to why he had stopped her.
Lumian replied calmly, “Let’s wait and see.”
As the two of them conversed, Padre Cali revealed a wanton and flamboyant smile. He turned around and walked back to the cathedral with the Bible in his
arms.
The golden dome at the cathedral’s top and the statues and decorations on the outer walls dimmed under the crimson moonlight.
After Padre Cali’s figure disappeared through the cathedral’s open door, Rhea looked at Lumian with a dark expression.
“Why?”
Lumian chuckled in response.
“After realizing that this place is suspected to be a dream, I’ve been pondering a question.”
As he spoke, screams and piercing cries reverberated through Tizamo and the surrounding plantations, echoing through the dark night sky.
“What question?” Rhea pressed.
Without giving a direct response, Lumian said, “It’s almost certain that we’re participating in the Dream Festival.
“Under such circumstances, if you succeed in attacking Padre Cali, what will happen when the Dream Festival concludes and everyone wakes up?”
Without waiting for Rhea’s response, Lumian smiled again.
“If you shoot him in the arm, he’ll wake up feeling phantom pain in the corresponding location, as if he’s suffering from arthritis and his muscles are tearing.
H
If you strike his head with a hammer and knock him out, there’s a high chance that he’ll have a headache, dizziness, and nervous twitches when he returns to reality.
“If you rape and impregnate him, he’ll likely feel nauseous, reflux, and bloated, feeling like he might have a fetus in his stomach when he wakes up.
“If you tie him up, continuously electrocute him, and incinerate him with fire, will he feel those sensations in the real world, as if possessed by wraiths or shadows. He may always feel restrained, paralyzed, or in pain.”
Rhea listened calmly, not bothering to question why Padre Cali could get pregnant. The more she listened, the more alarmed she became.
This was because Louis Berry’s description matched the various manifestations of mass hysteria in Tizamo that the patrol team had gathered.
Lumian turned to Rhea and asked with a smile, “If you had killed Padre Cali with an arrow, what would happen when the dream recedes?”
“He’ll die immediately? No…” Rhea denied it.
Tizamo had no incidents of multiple people suddenly dying in their dreams after a night.
Rhea immediately thought of an abnormality.
Between mid-December and mid-March, 80% of the annual deaths in Tizamo occurred, significantly surpassing those in Port Pylos and the surrounding towns.
She changed her words.
“They will gradually die in an irreversible manner within the next three months?”
With a nod, Lumian replied, “1 even suspect that the primitive tribe in the forest launched several attacks in those three months mainly to eliminate those who had died in their dreams, allowing them to die reasonably in reality without revealing anything abnormal.
“From December of last year to this year, they only completed one attack. The reason should be that the attack was very successful. Those who should die are dead, and some who don’t deserve to die are also dead. There’s no need for them to take the risk and they also lost the motivation to come to Tizamo again.”
Rhea listened attentively and pondered for a few seconds.
“The Dream Festival originates from that tribe?”
“It’s possible. It’s more likely that they guard or worship the source and act according to its revelations,” Lumian replied simply.
Rhea nodded slightly.
“No wonder you stopped me from shooting Padre Cali. Everyone in Tizamo is likely a victim.”
Thats why I didn’t counterattack the two assailants and only killed the colossal boa with a single punch, Lumian thought. When awoken from the dream, will the colossal boa crawl in front of me and die? If thats the case, I can add more food to Ludwigs plate…
Lumian surveyed the empty square slumbering in the night.
“Let’s find Camus now and see if he’s still lucid.”
In Tizamo, on the third floor of the police headquarters, five rooms and one washroom belonged to the patrol team.
One room was used for day-to-day work, while another was used for storing documents and items. The remaining three apartments belonged to the local patrol team members, one for each person.
With the arrival of Camus and Kolobo, Maslow had temporarily moved to Loban’s to vacate a room for his colleagues from Port Pylos.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Amidst the reverberations of the bell, Camus jolted awake.
He glanced out the window into the deep night, illuminated by a faint crimson moonlight. Momentarily disoriented, he wondered about the hour.
Just as Camus reached for his pocket watch, intending to check the time, he noticed Kolobo’s absence from the makeshift bed.
A sense of unease washed over him, urging him into action. With silent determination, he rose from his bed under the eerie crimson moonlight, securing his pocket watch and weapon.
Stepping cautiously into the corridor, Camus found it unusually still, cloaked in shadowy silence. Beyond the confines of the police headquarters, eerie cries and distant wails pierced the night, emanating from various corners of Tizamo and its surrounding plantations.
Drawing on his keen awareness honed through experience as a Public Security Officer, Camus sensed a disturbance in his Jurisdiction.
Suddenly, he instinctively dropped to the ground and rolled forward.
A deafening crack echoed through the corridor as a wooden door, which Camus would have passed by, splintered and burst outward.
In the blink of an eye, a broadsword slashed through the air, propelled by a savage force, slicing through the empty corridor.
As Camus swiftly evaded the attack, he turned to face his assailant.
It was Loban, the towering patrol member standing at over 1.9 meters, with short light-gold hair and piercing light-blue eyes.
A cruel smirk adorned the Feysacian’s face, his eyes glinting with unmistakable greed.
In the dim moonlight, his features were obscured by shadows, emanating an eerie malevolence.
Upon spotting Loban, Camus’s eyes sparked with determination.
Psychic Piercing!
Loban recoiled with a pained cry, instinctively shielding his head with his hands, relinquishing his grip on the broadsword.
Seizing the opportunity, Camus swiftly drew his revolver, taking aim at his teammate.
In a moment of hesitation, Camus faltered, then lowered his weapon.
Bang!
The bullet found its mark, striking Loban’s knee with brutal force, tearing through flesh and shattering bone.
A Doctor from the Church of Earth Mother could mend such injuries!
Loban crumpled to the ground, writhing in agony, his attempts to curl up thwarted by the searing pain.
Camus lowered his revolver, rose to his feet, and pressed forward towards the end of the corridor.
As he descended the stairs, Camus passed by a cluttered cubicle, its contents scattered haphazardly, and caught faint murmurs from within.
His heart skipped a beat as he whispered, “Kolobo, is that you?”
A moment of tense silence followed before Kolobo’s voice, tinged with panic and fear, replied, “Stay back! Don’t come any closer! Spare me!”
Camus frowned, sensing that Kolobo’s demeanor was far from his usual composed self.
Though prone to bouts of fear and unease, Kolobo typically pushed through his anxieties to fulfill his duties. This level of hysteria was unprecedented.
Whats wrong with Kolobo? Camus wondered.
Choosing to stay put rather than risk exacerbating the situation, Camus observed as Kolobo fell into an uneasy silence, as if attempting to fade into obscurity.
After more than ten seconds, Camus contemplated assessing Kolobo’s condition. If it proved dire, he resolved to retreat and seek out Louis Berry.
Suddenly, the sound of two sets of rapid footsteps echoed from below.
Camus swiftly pivoted, training his revolver down the stairs. There, he beheld Louis Berry, sporting a golden straw hat, accompanied by Rhea, armed with a hunting bow and arrow.
Gazing at the barrel aimed in their direction, Louis Berry chuckled lightly, his tone calm.
“Welcome to the Dream Festival.”
The Dream Festival?Its the Dream Festival?Realization dawned on Camus. He glanced between the smiling Louis Berry and the serious Rhea, confusion etched on his features.
“Why are we still lucid?”
Observing their composed demeanor, Camus deduced that they hadn’t succumbed to the overwhelming emotions and desires that often engulfed dreamers. Yet, he kept his revolver steady, wary of any sudden developments.
“Perhaps our early entry into this peculiar dream, thanks to Twanaku’s house, has granted us this lucidity,” Lumian proposed, offering his deduction.
Rhea seized the opportunity to suggest that encounters within the dream might hold sway over reality to some extent, sharing the conjecture with Camus.
Initially relieved that he hadn’t resorted to lethal force against Loban, Camus’s expression turned grave as he addressed his companions.
“The three of us aren’t the only Beyonders in Tizamo. If we adhere to the notion that we can’t retaliate when attacked, it will severely hamper our ability to defend ourselves.”
Lumian smiled. “Who said we can’t kill? If someone poses a threat to me, they shall be killed accordingly.”
Rhea and Camus fell silent.
After a moment of contemplation, Camus nodded decisively, gesturing towards the sundry compartment nestled in the stairwell.
“Kolobo’s extreme reaction stems from fear. He won’t pose a threat to us. Let him seek refuge there, undisturbed.”
As Rhea concurred, Lumian’s expression suddenly shifted.
He asked, “Is Kolobo also in this dream?”
Kolobo, who has been in Tizamo for less than a week like me, has also been forced to participate in the Dream Festival?
“Yes.” Camus asked in confusion, “Is there a problem?”
A shadow crossed Lumian’s features as he responded gravely.
“This suggests there may be a larger problem at play.”
Perhaps one more terrifying than the Dream Festival itself!
Before Camus and Rhea could inquire further, Lumian abruptly interjected.
“Wait here for me.”
With that, he vanished from the stairway, utilizing Spirit World Traversal.
Lumian reappeared on the second floor of the Brieu Motel, just outside his suite.
In the next instant, a piercing scream echoed through the air, filled with agony and terror.
It was Lugano..