Lord of Mysteries 2: Circle of Inevitability-Chapter 369 - King? No, Emperor!

369 King? No, Emperor!
Compared to his previous nightmare, Lumian could now “see” him more clearly. The dark-red-haired man behind the narrow glass window bore a striking resemblance to Count Poufer.

As he raised his right hand to dig at his eyes, his facial muscles twitched, and his facial contours transformed, instantly becoming identical to Lumian’s.

It was identical to Lumian Lee from Cordu Village, not the current Ciel Dubois!

When the dark-red-haired man with Lumian’s face gouged out the bloody eyeball, Lumian’s eyes ached, and his vision darkened.

Simultaneously, wild laughter echoed in his ears, infecting him to the point where he wanted to release his frustration, unleash violence, and satisfy his bloodlust.

Suddenly, his right palm heated up, and pure madness surged into his mind.

Out of nowhere, frustration, violence, and bloodthirst surged out of him as the maniacal laughter instantly ended.

Lumian’s vision returned to normal, and he saw Novelist Anori sitting across from him, with Count Poufer beside him.

They grinned as they observed the other participants selecting slices of King’s Pie, completely unaware of the unusual changes happening to Lumian.

Lumian counted the King’s Pie slices that had vanished and glanced at Laurent, who was engrossed in his choice. He realized that only a few seconds had elapsed, but it felt like an eternity.

Drawing upon his Alms Monk abilities, he resisted the emotional turmoil stirred by the Blood Emperor’s presence. He faintly perceived a peculiar, insane, bloody, and ruthless mental impression lingering in the void above him.

The desire to infiltrate Lumian’s body, sending shivers down his spine, remained suppressed by Alista Tudor’s hidden aura; it dared not descend. Instead, it circled above the living room, akin to vultures eager to feast on carcasses but cautious of nearby predators.

None of the participants in the King’s Pie game detected the existence of such a manic spirit glaring fiercely at them from above. They giggled and selected their slices of King’s Pie.

Come, dance with the Blood Emperor! Let’s see who’s crazier, you or Alista Tudor! Lumian scoffed inwardly, his emotions in turmoil.

Of course, he understood that his Blood Emperor aura was a mere facade. If the spirit were to forcefully enter his body, he wouldn’t have the power to resist it. All he could do was hope that Mr. Fool’s seal would activate and yield some effect.

However, judging by appearances, the frenzied and cruel spirit lacked any rationality. It operated solely on instinct and harbored an innate fear.

Lumian took a moment to collect himself. While observing Elros and the others choose their King’s Pie slices and sensing the frenzied spirit’s erratic movements, he contemplated the corresponding dilemma.

This appears to be the core of the Sauron family’s King’s Pie game…

Poufer employs his bloodline and a simplified ritual to summon the lingering spirit of his ancestor, allowing it to inhabit the person who consumes the symbol and becomes the king…

If a frenzied and bloodthirsty spirit were to truly take control of my body and corrode my mind, I might lose my sanity instantly. It’s nearly impossible for ordinary individuals to resist such a force. What does Count Poufer rely on to maintain his composure? At the very least, he seems normal and has become king countless times…

No wonder Termiboros insisted I switch slices last time. If I were to lose control, He wouldn’t fare any better…
Son of a sow! Why didn’t you warn me today? Did you choose to remain silent because you knew I possessed the Blood Emperor’s aura and wouldn’t succumb to this insane mental invasion?

Where does this frenzied spirit originate from? It’s been two to three hundred years; how can it still exist?

Could it be that the Sauron family has a special method for preserving the spirit of a high-ranking individual across generations? Or could Vermonda Sauron actually still be alive? Or perhaps the Beyonder trait he left behind has become too corrupted? Is the Sauron family attempting to gradually eradicate it using this method? But it’s been two to three hundred years!

Gardner Martin’s objective is to ascertain Vermonda’s condition…

Hmm, this crazy spirit continues to hover above my head without descending… Will it eventually retreat, change its target, or trigger other alterations?

Lumian remained on high alert, keeping a constant watch on the frenzied spirit lingering in the air.

If it displayed any signs of forcefully invading through the Blood Emperor’s aura or causing other unfavorable developments, Lumian would opt to “teleport” away.

Anori, Mullen, Iraeta, and the others each selected their King’s Pie slices, leaving only the one reserved for Vermonda Sauron on the plate.

Count Poufer surveyed the surroundings with a grin and declared, “Everyone, let’s dig in. The one who finds that gold coin will be the king for today.”

With that, he elegantly sampled a portion of the King’s Pie in his hand, then took a few more bites. His countenance gradually shifted from one of confidence to one of blank panic.

There was no gold coin!

Count Poufer stared at the other participants in disbelief, his assurance of control crumbling.

In that moment, a single thought consumed his mind:

No, this can’t be! I’m the one who most closely resembles my ancestor!

His eyes fixed on Elros, the sole guest possessing the Sauron family’s bloodline.

Though Elros was perplexed by her cousin’s frantic and intense gaze, she still took a few bites of her King’s Pie slice.

Yet, still, there was no gold coin to be found.

Count Poufer’s confusion deepened. His gaze darted around, his mind racing with conjectures.

Could there be an illegitimate son of a family member here?

No, even if there were, I bear the closest resemblance to the ancestor!

Could a high-ranking member of the Hunter pathway be present?

Impossible!

Or perhaps someone here has been tainted in the underground world?

Lumian noticed Count Poufer’s distressed head-scratching, and most of the game participants had sampled their King’s Pie slices. He gradually lifted his right hand and took a bite.

As anticipated, his teeth encountered a solid metallic object.

He spat out the item onto his left palm. It was, without a doubt, a 10-verl d’or gold coin.

Count Poufer’s pupils widened as he fixated on Lumian’s visage, a burning desire to dissect every inch of his flesh evident in his gaze.

Novelist Anori let out a chuckle.

“Ah, a new king at last. It being always Poufer tires me out. He was getting rather dull with his pranks.”

Lumian picked up the gold coin and cast a cold glance at Anori.

“Who gave you permission to speak?”

Anori’s body quivered, and he instinctively clamped his mouth shut.

Lumian struggled to maintain control over the influence of the Blood Emperor’s aura. He sensed the frenzied spirit above him spiraling faster and faster, as if growing more impatient and savage.

He surveyed the surroundings leisurely and offered a smile.

“From this moment forward, I am your King. Or would you prefer to address me as Emperor?”

For some inexplicable reason, all the participants, including Count Poufer and Miss Elros, experienced a stirring in their hearts, as if they were compelled to heed Lumian’s commands.

Of course, it was merely a pulsing sensation, induced by the combined impact of his words and aura.

Among them, Poet Iraeta, who had recently entered into a sponsorship agreement with Ciel Dubois, rose nonchalantly, pressed his hand to his chest, and bowed.

“Indeed, Your Majesty!”

The others followed suit, either embracing the spirit of the game or yielding to the pulsing sensations in their hearts. They stood and offered their bows in their own unique ways.

“Indeed, Your Majesty.”

Lumian’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as he signaled for everyone to retake their seats.

Then, he turned his gaze towards Count Poufer and raised his chin slightly.

“I command you to present 30,000 verl d’or worth of gold.”

Count Poufer was taken aback, a whirlwind of complex emotions surging within him.

This was the first time he had been subjected to the King’s Pie commands.

He had an urge to respond with a jest, but he remembered the gravity of the consequences if he disobeyed the king’s orders during this mystical game. He would meet a dreadful fate.

Count Poufer clenched his teeth and rose from his seat.

“Indeed, Your Majesty.”

Exiting the living room, he ascended to a floor of the castle’s main building and retrieved five hefty gold bars from a secure vault.

For him, parting with 30,000 verl d’or wasn’t a significant loss.

Seeing Count Poufer offering him gold bars totaling 30,000 verl d’or, Lumian couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret.

Had he known that his orders would be followed to the letter, he might have demanded even more!

The dilemma now lies in how to discreetly make off with the gold later. In normal circumstances, even if I accepted 30,000 verl d’or in person, I would have to privately return it. Failing to do so could offend Count Poufer… Moreover, I need to figure out how to explain to Gardner Martin that I had become king while remaining unaffected. Lumian pondered as he tucked away the five gold bars.

Then, he turned to Novelist Anori.

“Your mission is to bestow a kiss upon someone here. Your target is…”

As Anori eagerly eyed the beautiful women present, Lumian pointed towards Poet Iraeta, who had just taken a puff from his pipe.

“Our poet.”

A momentary silence hung in the air, followed by a whistle from one of the guests, and then the others joined in.

Reluctantly, Anori stood up and muttered, “I really don’t want to kiss that guy with bad breath. I could accept it if it were Mullen…”

Despite his reservations, he complied, giving Iraeta a gentle kiss on the lips.

Iraeta took it in stride, chuckling, and remarked, “I can sense your discomfort, Anori. Pull yourself together. Don’t act like a naive country bumpkin.”

Lumian observed with an impassive expression, his attention primarily drawn to the swirling madness.

Though it refrained from attempting to invade anyone’s body, the influence of the madness made everyone slightly restless, their emotions displaying signs of instability.

Upon hearing Iraeta’s teasing, Anori’s countenance turned icy, as if he contemplated picking up a table knife and stabbing him.

However, he ultimately restrained himself.

Lumian suspected that as the game unfolded, the participants would grow increasingly agitated, irritable, and prone to bloodlust while the madness continued to linger.

At that very moment, a piercing, terrified scream echoed from somewhere within the castle.