Mutation

The blood-spattered cloth, jars, eggs, and other items, along with the thick metallic smell filling his nostrils, did not change Parish Priest Guillaume Béné's expression in the slightest. He turned sideways and looked toward a spot in the church, and Lumian's sprinting figure appeared in his blue eyes.

The Parish Priest's eyes immediately grew paler, fading until they seemed almost transparent.

In his eyes, intricate mercury-colored symbols appeared around Lumian, each formed from what looked like little rivers winding around themselves. Lumian seemed to be running through an illusory river composed of these symbols, its surface faintly shimmering. Ahead lay one indistinct tributary after another.

Guillaume Béné extended his right hand and reached through the air for a mercury-colored symbol beside his target.

Lumian planted his right foot hard, preparing to fling himself at the stained-glass window ahead and crash straight out of the church.

Just then, his foot slipped, preventing him from exerting his full strength.

His body flew up in an awkward posture.

Amid thuds, shattering glass, and cracks, Lumian smashed the stained-glass window depicting Saint Sies, but failed to pass through it and remained inside the church.

Cuts immediately opened across his body, bright red blood rapidly spilling out.

At that moment, Pierre Berri, the shepherd who had chopped off Ava's head with a single swing of his axe, set his sights on Lumian.

He still wore a gentle smile, but his blue eyes brimmed with ferocity, as though a seal within him had been broken at some point, revealing his previously concealed true self.

Gripping the axe, Pierre Berri strode toward Lumian.

With every step, his body seemed to grow taller and stronger. Although he had not actually changed, he took on the presence of a giant.

Lumian had his back to the cruel shepherd and was leaning against the shattered stained-glass window.

He had just shaken off the pain of his heavy fall and the glass stabbing into him. As he prepared to brace himself with both hands and force himself out of the church with a roll, he suddenly sensed extreme danger.

Someone's behind me... The thought flashed through Lumian's mind. He kept his hands pressed against the glass-strewn window frame, ignoring the stinging wounds and flowing blood, and made as if to roll outside.

The movement was only a feint. He swiftly pulled himself back, retreating rather than advancing, and fell backward.

Bang!

An axe swept horizontally into the window frame, which held only shards of glass, cleaving it free of the wall and sending it flying out of the church.

Lumian followed his backward fall with a roll, narrowly slipping past Pierre Berri's feet and dodging the savage blow.

He felt neither relief nor joy, because he had been forced completely back into the church, while his quickest escape route was now entirely blocked by Pierre Berri, the shepherd who had undergone an obvious, abnormal change.

Although Lumian had read plenty of novels, he harbored no childish belief that rolling endlessly would keep him from getting hit. The moment he passed Pierre Berri, he propped himself up on an elbow, exerted his waist, and sprang up.

His gaze swept the scene as he moved. Apart from Young Guillaume and a handful of others, the remaining young people seemed to have been affected by something. They had all lost their reason and become mad.

Ignoring Ava's fallen, headless corpse and the blood sprayed around them, they shouted jubilantly, "Send the Spring Spirit on her way!

"Send the Spring Spirit on her way!

"..."

Young Guillaume and the few others were utterly stunned as well. They stood frozen, staring at Ava's wide-open eyes, which still held a trace of a smile.

Their faces were filled with terror, panic, and disbelief, as though they were trapped in a nightmare from which they could not escape.

Although Pierre Berri remained his original height, he gave Lumian the illusion that he was scarcely shorter than the vaulted ceiling.

After missing his first strike, the shepherd swiftly withdrew his axe, turned, and swung again at Lumian nearby. Before Lumian had even steadied himself, he had already dashed forward, successfully evading the blow.

Thud, thud, thud!

Making full use of a Hunter's speed and agility, Lumian sprinted along a curving path.

Target: the Parish Priest!

His experience told him that at a time like this, he had to go after the enemy's leader. No matter how the others attacked him, he would focus solely on that man, taking a vicious stance that said, Either let me go, or we both die.

Only then could he create a miracle in such an unfavorable situation.

Pierre Berri did not chase Lumian. Holding his bloodstained axe, the shepherd stood before the wall with its missing window frame and extended his left hand toward his target's figure.

The entire church suddenly dimmed, and the area around Lumian grew especially dark, sinking into a deep gloom.

The gloom seemed to take on a life of its own and began to sway gently.

It appeared to be no more than a curtain, behind which pale, pitch-black, and bizarre arms lurked, poised to reach out.

Meanwhile, in Parish Priest Guillaume Béné's eyes, which had faded to near transparency, Lumian's figure remained submerged in the faintly shimmering illusory river formed from intricate mercury-colored symbols. Ahead lay similar but even more illusory things, or tributaries, that seemed to represent the future.

After trying for some time, Guillaume Béné's right hand finally grasped the crucial pattern composed of multiple symbols.

As long as he reversed it, all of Lumian's efforts would come to nothing, and his future fate would inevitably be rewritten.

Suddenly, the Parish Priest's gaze froze.

"Aaaah!!!!"

He abruptly cried out, squeezing both eyes shut as bright red blood and cloudy tears streamed from them.

As his scream echoed, Guillaume Béné's body began to swell, as though someone were pumping enormous amounts of gas into him.

Rrrip!

His white, gold-trimmed robe could not withstand the strain and rapidly split apart.

His skin had stretched until it was nearly transparent, exposing the bizarre marks previously concealed beneath his clothes.

They were black shapes resembling stamp impressions, each connected to an indescribable world and carrying an extraordinarily terrifying presence.

That presence instantly filled the church. The young people still bidding farewell to the Spring Spirit were plunged into utter terror. Some began running around the offerings, some dropped to their knees, and others prostrated themselves, not daring to raise their heads.

Young Guillaume and the handful of others who had already been scared senseless fainted outright. Wet patches spread beneath them, accompanied by a foul stench.

Pierre Berri, who had been about to use a secret art to seize Lumian, now dropped his axe as well, went down on one knee, and lowered his head, making no further move.

In the entire church, Lumian was the only one who remained unharmed.

He was actually affected too, suffering an unusual stabbing pain in his head, but compared to the mysterious voice that could send him straight to the brink of death, this presence still fell far short.

He also felt some burning in his chest and suspected that the black thorn-chain symbol had emerged, perhaps along with the bluish-black symbol that resembled an eye and worms.

Lumian had no time to check his condition or understand why he had suddenly gained the advantage. He continued sprinting toward Parish Priest Guillaume Béné.

If an opportunity presents itself, I can't let it slip!

As he drew closer, he got a clear look at the black, stamp-like marks:

They seemed to be composed of distinctive writing and strange symbols.

As his gaze swept over them, Lumian spotted something familiar.

On the left side of Parish Priest Guillaume Béné's chest, a black, thorn-like symbol had emerged from within and wound around toward his back!

It was exactly the same as the one on Lumian's chest, only considerably fainter.

He has one too?

Lumian's heart jolted.

Is this the source of the abnormalities in the village?

Why do I have one? When did I get it?

*...*

Thought after thought raced through Lumian's mind, but none interfered with his movements.

He reached Guillaume Béné, thrust out his right arm, and wrapped it around his enemy's head.

Without stopping, he forcefully swung himself around behind the Parish Priest.

With a crack, Guillaume Béné's head "turned" around to face his own spine.

Phew... Seeing this, Lumian quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

The biggest problem's dealt with. I need to hurry home and escape with my sister. I'll leave the rest to those three foreigners!

Just then, Guillaume Béné, who should have been dead, opened his eyes.

They were entirely blood-red.

Buzz!

Lumian felt as though someone had split his head in half with an axe. The excruciating pain left him unable even to scream.

Everything before his eyes instantly shattered into fragments and turned profoundly black.

He lost consciousness.

Pain!

It hurts so much!

Lumian abruptly sat up, opened his eyes, and rubbed his head.

He immediately saw the wooden desk by the window, the chair set at an angle, and the wardrobe and small bookshelf on either side.

It was all very familiar.

This was his bedroom.

Did my sister rescue me? How long was I unconscious? What happened at the church? Lumian had no time to dwell on it. As soon as he recalled what had happened, he climbed out of bed, clutched his head, and rushed outside.

He soon found Aurora in the kitchen on the ground floor.

Wearing a lightweight blue dress, Aurora was diligently preparing dinner.

"Aurora! Sis, we need to run!" Lumian shouted. "The Parish Priest and lots of people in the village have gone mad! They killed Ava at the end of the celebration!"

He was not sure whether his sister knew exactly what had happened. After all, there were many ways to rescue someone, and she need not have gone to the scene herself. He therefore went straight to the main point to avoid wasting time.

Aurora turned around and asked in confusion, "The celebration?

"The Lent Festival celebration?"

"Yes." Lumian nodded emphatically.

Aurora smiled.

"That was a really good story you just made up. In just two sentences, you sketched out a bizarre incident that makes people feel afraid despite themselves.

"But next time you make up a story, please check your facts a little. The Lent Festival is still several days away."

"..." Lumian froze.