"Lumian, listen to me. Calm down—don't be afraid, just take it easy."
At that moment, Lumian could hear Derrick's voice echoing faintly in his head. He took a deep breath, and the countless eyes began to close one after another. A cold sensation flooded through his body, making him tremble as his form seemed to "float" in the air. Slowly, his spirit began to descend and fuse back with his body.
As his breathing steadied, Lumian's eyelids fluttered open. Derrick stood before him—but something was terribly different. His vision had turned completely blue, and faint white silhouettes drifted through the air around him. When his gaze settled on Derrick, his heart nearly skipped a beat.
Because, he saw not a man—but a skeleton!
"Wh—"
Knowing, Lumian was about to question him, Derrick immediately smiled and said. "Oh, boy, looks like you survived, and didn't turn into a curse after all. If you had, well… George here might've had to, you know, deal with it."
He gestured to the man in black suit by the door, a pistol resting in his hand.
"Your so.... nonchalant, aren't you," Lumian muttered inwardly, certain that if he already had control over his powers, he'd have blasted Derrick's head right then and there.
"Alright, George, you can go," Derrick said casually.
The corners of George's mouth twitched— almost disappointed he wouldn't get to shoot anyone today. Before he mumbled something under his breath and left.
Once the door shut, Derrick's expression finally turned serious. "How's your vision? Seeing anything unusual?"
Lumian touched the side of his eye. "Yes, Derrick. I'm seeing a lot of things — they look like ghosts." He paused, and continued. "Mr. Derrick… what exactly happened to me back there?"
Derrick chuckled softly, covering his mouth.
"It's nothing too serious. You were afraid when you took the potion, and your spirit wandered a bit, to the spirit world and caught the attention of other entities."
"And you say that's not serious?" Lumian thought bitterly, making a face that screamed he wanted to cry.
Aloud, he asked, "But, Mr. Derrick, how can I get rid of this vision?"
Derrick rubbed his chin, as he leaned closer. "Luckily, I've brewed plenty of potions for others. Listen closely — focus. You'll feel pressure on your head. Draw that pressure down to your chest. When you need to use your ability, bring it back up again."
"Okay, sir," Lumian said, closing his eyes to follow the instructions.
Gradually, he opened them again — and everything had returned to normal.
"How's everything now?" Derrick asked.
"Much better," Lumian said with a small smile.
Going back a little, Derrick said, "Alright, let me teach you how to use your powers."
Lumian looked at him and asked, "Mr. Derrick, are you a sorcerer—or, let me say, are you a sorcerer from the Diviner Order?"
Derrick chuckled. "Yes, I'm a sorcerer, but from a different order."
"Which one, sir?"
"Oh, I'm from the Mystery Pryer Order, hehe. It mostly keeps me away from dangerous things," Derrick said. Changing the subject, he continued, "Just focus. Breathe. Remember that pressure I said you should bring down? Now bring it back up to your head again."
Lumian sighed and did as he was told. Soon, he began to see that blue vision again, alongside the white silhouettes.
"Don't panic yet," Derrick said. "Look at the figure very well."
Hesitantly, Lumian focused on Mr. Derrick's skeleton. Suddenly, the bones began to stitch together, replaced by flesh rather than bone.
"Boy, don't stop—keep looking."
Focusing deeper, Lumian began to notice spectral blue lines, and Derrick himself now appeared to be burning with a faint blue light.
Derrick chuckled. "Now, what you're seeing is spirituality. By focusing your innermost thoughts—those aligned with your new order—you gain a very high perception of spirituality from both the environment and from people. You can even detect their motives toward you."
Smiling slyly, Lumian asked, "Sir, what does blue mean?"
With a small smile, Derrick replied, "It means the person has no opinion of you yet. He doesn't despise you, he doesn't like you."
"Why am I not surprised…" Lumian muttered inwardly.
Derrick sat down and leaned forward slightly. "Now that you've understood that, draw that pressure this time down into your body." With a grin, he added, "Boy, you're lucky I've studied this stuff very well—if not, you'd have been a dumb sorcerer."
Lumian ignored the insult and did exactly as instructed. Though he had trouble focusing on the pressure and moving it up and down, he could pinpoint it. He could even sense different areas of his body—it felt as though he was looking at a map of himself.
Soon, his body began to feel light. He saw a penny on the desk and picked it up instantly.
With a small clap, Derrick said, "This process I've studied is what I call Invigoration."
Frowning, Lumian asked, "Sir, please, what's invigoration?"
Chuckling lightly, Derrick replied, "Boy, it's simply the way of spreading your spirituality to the parts of your body where you need it. Think of it like nerves in a nervous system."
Lumian nodded in understanding and raised the pressure to his head. Instantly, the world around him glowed in shades of bright blue. As he glanced toward a corner near the sink, he noticed two pairs of eyes watching him again.
Derrick chuckled. "Ah, I almost forgot to tell you—don't use that vision for too long. Other entities might take notice of your presence in the spirit world, hehe."
Letting out a quiet sigh, Lumian pulled the pressure back to his chest.
Crossing his legs, Derrick wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and said, "Now, what I'm about to tell you is a crucial method in invigoration. Normally, I don't tell people this." He took a deep breath like a professor about to start a lecture.
"This is one crucial part many diviners ignore," he said, moving his hands animatedly. "That pressure, the spirit world you just visited—they're all connected through the diviner. So what I want you to do now is dissipate that pressure, spread it out of your body."
"But Mr. Derrick, I thought I would still need that pressure?" Lumian asked.
"No, you don't," Derrick replied flatly. "Your body naturally draws in more spirituality from the environment when you release it. Just focus, and expel that pressure."
Lumian closed his eyes and focused, trying to clear his mind, pinpoint the pressure, and push it out. For a brief moment, faint blue particles drifted from his body—until he opened his eyes, breaking his concentration.
Derrick frowned, then chuckled softly. "Don't worry. Just keep practicing. With time, you'll get better—and see the advantages."
...
Meanwhile, outside, three men in black suits and hats stepped into the building, each carrying a suitcase. Their footsteps echoed softly on the ground, as thier shadows stretched across the floor.
Soon, the three figures arrived at the alchemy room and knocked twice. Hearing that, Derrick stood up and muttered as he walked toward the door, "I hope it isn't another newbie."
He opened it and saw the three figures. Without delay, the taller one bent down and whispered something into Derrick's ear. Hearing that, a small smile crept onto his face.
"Go call Captain, Vincent, and Rosanne."
The man in the black suit took the three boxes from the taller figure and placed them on the table near Lumian. He looked at Lumian for a moment and said flatly, "Don't open them," before turning back and leaving with the others.
Curiosity began to build inside Lumian as he stared at the three black suitcases, each marked with the Skywalker symbol.
What could be so dangerous? It has the church's logo, doesn't it?
Soon enough, the trio appeared and closed the door behind them. As Lumian turned, he saw Hargreaves staring directly at him with his cold black eyes. Having nothing to say, Lumian turned his head away innocently.
Hargreaves shifted his gaze to Derrick. "You called? Have the curses arrived yet?"
Derrick chuckled as he went to strike a match and light his cauldron. "Of course they have. Why else would I call my 'captain' here?"
Noticing Lumian, Rosanne and Vincent waved playfully like mischievous children. Lumian returned an awkward wave of his own.
Filling the cauldron with holy water, Derrick reached to his left and brought out three blindfolds. Approaching the trio, he said, "Put these on—you'll really need them."
Hargreaves frowned. "What about you? You're not wearing one?"
Derrick let out a small laugh. "Captain, if I do, how will I refine the curses and turn them into eidolons? Besides, one of the features of my Mystery Pryer order allows me to conceal my presence from entities."
"Alright," Hargreaves said, putting on his blindfold, followed by Vincent and Rosanne.
Taking a glance at the black boxes, Lumian hesitated but then put his on as well.
Derrick's tone became serious. "What I need you all to do now is support the refinement. Make a gesture—as though you're flogging a child."
Lumian's mouth twitched. He found the instruction ridiculous, but he still complied, as did the others.
Smiling, Derrick took two steps forward and returned to the cauldron. The water reflected him—a man wearing a mismatched sweater and sporting brown hair.
He went to Lumian's side, collected the boxes, and poured their contents into the cauldron.
The once-white liquid turned pitch black. His eyes lost their previous look of confusion, as the corners of his lips went upward.
He spoke in a deep, solemn tone:
"Ye shall be extinguished."
As if responding to him, the cauldron began to bubble violently. Still smiling, Derrick cut his hand. Suddenly a gust of wind blew through the room, as the red blood gradually fell into the cauldron, darkening it further.
Even with his eyes blindfolded, Lumian could "feel" dark lines moving around the room, converging toward the cauldron.
Above the cauldron, seemed to be a face that was formed with a "colouring" darkness. The face he couldn't see clearly, was filled with excitement, joy, and a wide smile.
He could practically feel "it's" gaze fixated on them all. Then, a whisper brushed past his ear. "Boy... why are you courting death?"
With that, another gust of wind tore through the room. The trio nearly stopped thier gestures, as they struggled to remain standing.
Raising both of his hands as though he was about to cast a spell, Derrick began to chant:
Petals fall, moments fade,
Time's swift drift one bears.
Gifts of now, whispers gone,
Memories linger to be told."
...
Gradually, the wind subsided, and the face above the cauldron dissipated with a piercing laugh. The three assistants, still panting, dropped thier gestures in relief.
Derrick wiped sweat from his brow and let out a small laugh. He then began collecting the newly refined contents into small boxes.
When he was done, he handed three to Lumian. "Boy, help me store these in the cabinet."
Lumian nodded and walked over. Opening the cabinet, he saw rows of identical boxes already arranged neatly inside.
So this isn't the first time.
He placed two boxes inside—but slipped one into his pocket.
Lumian was just about to leave when Derrick called from behind, "Lumian, where are you going? We're not done yet."
...
Later, Lumian and his companions were walking down the streets of Lamenti under the scorching sun, still performing that same "flogging gesture."
Their ridiculous motions drew curious stares from passersby. Some even stopped to take pictures and videos.
Raising his green cloth to his face, Lumian sighed inwardly.
Oh, Skywalker, I hate my life.
Vincent chuckled beside him, still mimicking the gesture. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."
Derrick, walking at the front, said in his deep voice, "What we're actually doing now is expelling the evil energy residue left by the refinement—so nothing bad happens."
A young boy licking ice cream pointed at them. "Mom, what are those people doing?"
The woman quickly covered her son's eyes. "Kid, don't look at them."
Hearing that, Lumian let out a small, awkward laugh.
...
That night, Lumian stood before his home. Warm yellow light glowed from the window, and though his legs ached from the long walk—from Lamenti all the way to Greenland, just past Blackhead—he smiled happily.
He placed his hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, and thought to himself, Sometimes, this world can get so messed up, so crazy… that I don't even know if it's real.
He paused, then smiled warmly.
Even with all of that... I still have Kelvin and Laura.
With that, he opened the door and stepped inside.
From the golden light spilling from the window, three figures were seen in the reflection— a tall man with a happy figure being embraced by a smaller figure, and by his side another tall figure placing his hand under his chin with a warm smile.