“Power of Inevitability!”

As Lumian uttered the words in ancient Hermes, the light above the altar dimmed ominously. The orange candle flame flickered wildly, as if buffeted by an unseen wind, compressing to the size of a peppercorn.

Simultaneously, heat bloomed in his chest, and his head spun. His ears buzzed, as if once again on the verge of hearing that terrifying voice emanating from an infinite distance, yet remaining unnervingly close.

Lumian steadied himself and had a sudden realization.

The corruption within him had been sealed by the master of the bluish-black symbol. Even if he delved into deep Cogitation, he could only summon the thorn symbol and release a meager aura. He couldn’t harness its true power.

Could this ritual bypass the seal and absorb the boon?

Only if the owner of the bluish-black symbol, that great existence, had tacitly granted permission!

Remembering the enigmatic lady’s self-assured demeanor, Lumian felt a surge of confidence. He even suspected that the ritual itself contained a component for seeking the great presence’s approval.

As for which part, his knowledge of mysticism was too limited to speculate.

In the throes of the ritual, Lumian dared not delay. With a focused mind, he began reciting the subsequent incantations in ancient Hermes.

“You are the past, the present, and the future;

“You are the cause, the effect, and the process.”

These words resonated within the sealed altar. The floor and artifacts seemed to writhe, as if innumerable bizarre entities were about to burst forth and invade the dream ruins.

Ooo!

A black wind materialized out of nowhere, encircling Lumian. The candle flame, previously shrunk to a peppercorn size, swelled, suffused with a silvery hue and a touch of black.

Lumian heard the voice that had always pushed him to the brink of death once more. But at some point, a faint gray fog had emerged from the altar, coalescing around him.

The sensation left him suspended between deep Cogitation and witnessing the Noodle Man’s dance. He wasn’t on the edge of death, but he wasn’t comfortable either. It felt like severe tinnitus—dizzy, nauseous, and agitated to a degree, his mind a swirling mess.

Barely maintaining control, Lumian continued the ritual.

“I implore you,

“I beseech your benediction.

“I plead with you to grant me the power of Dancer.

“Tulip, a herb that belongs to inevitability, please pass your powers to my incantation!

“Gray amber, a herb that belongs to inevitability, please pass your powers to my incantation!”

As the ritual progressed, Lumian’s tinnitus and dizziness intensified. It felt as if countless maggots writhed beneath his skin.

Finally, he completed the incantation.

Almost instantaneously, the silver-black candle flame condensed, transforming into a pillar of light that illuminated his left pectoral.

Silver-black phantom liquid poured forth, swiftly enveloping Lumian, rendering him sinister and fearsome.

It felt as if his skin was pierced by a thousand needles, his muscles and ligaments torn asunder. The mysterious voice became deafening, reverberating within his mind.

Lumian was consumed by excruciating pain, his mind teetering on the edge of madness.

His blood vessels seared as if incinerated from within.

This torment far exceeded the near-death state induced by deep Cogitation.

All he could do was clench his teeth and endure, desperately clinging to his fraying sanity. As for everything else, it didn’t matter.

Amid the tempestuous onslaught, he was adrift. Time became an enigma.

At last, the agonizing pain abated. Lumian felt as if he had been unburdened or had emerged from drowning, a sudden sense of relief washing over him.

He swiftly collected his thoughts and looked up.

The candle flame had returned to its original size, but retained its silver and black hues.

Regaining his senses, Lumian took two hasty steps forward and snuffed out the candle representing him to avert any mishaps.

Next was the candle symbolizing the deity.

He meticulously followed the procedure, completing the ritual step by step. As he dissolved the wall of spirituality, he felt mentally drained and his body sore, as if he had battled a formidable beast.

Before long, the dining table was cleared. Lumian began to assess his condition and discovered a wealth of knowledge had materialized in his mind.

There were three primary parts to this:

First, it involved harnessing the power of dance, rhythm, and spirituality to tap into the forces of nature and communicate with unknown entities. This was the essence of being a Dancer. With this knowledge, Lumian could not only beseech Inevitability but also craft new sacrificial dances tailored to various situations, in order to “appease” other beings.

The second and third parts were applications of the first.

What Lumian desired most was the enigmatic dance performed by Noodle Man. The knowledge was directly implanted into his mind, enabling him to comprehend it instantly; all that remained was to practice.

With this arcane sacrificial dance, Lumian could activate the black thorn symbol on his chest while exploring the dream ruins, suppressing or weakening the formidable monsters therein.

The third segment involved another bizarre dance. It didn’t resemble a traditional sacrificial rite but rather a blend of sacrifice and summoning.

By executing this dance, Lumian could attract nearby objects, and at the cost of his own blood, bond one of them to himself, thereby gaining access to one of its abilities or traits.

Of course, Lumian would first need to endure such possession. Some attachments could inflict significant adverse effects on humans, while others might prove reluctant to depart, creating complications.

Lumian felt it was crucial to understand the summoned entities fully. It would be far too hazardous to experiment without anticipating potential issues.

The value of mystical knowledge was apparent in such a situation. Lumian desperately required resources like Mysterious Creatures Illustrated or Spirit World Creatures Illustrated, but even a Warlock, renowned for their extensive knowledge, could not possess such information.

Moments later, Lumian stretched and discovered that his flexibility had indeed improved dramatically.

Although not quite on par with Noodle Man, a mutated monster with reassembled organs, he now surpassed nearly all ordinary humans, enabling him to execute the enigmatic sacrificial dance.

Lumian effortlessly kicked backward, touching the back of his head, and nodded contentedly, murmuring, That’s right. I can perform many actions that were once impossible. My Hunter combat skills have also greatly improved.

Lumian practiced the mysterious dance to familiarize his body with the corresponding movements, aiming to reduce the time needed to complete the routine.

Sometimes his movements were forceful and resonant, as if in combat, while other times they were gentle and unhurried, as if conveying a message, yet always rhythmic.

As Lumian danced, his spiritual energy radiated outward, merging with the ambient natural forces.

Gradually, his thoughts concentrated, his mind quieted, and he entered a transcendent, mystical state.

This allowed him to perceive various subtle phenomena surrounding him, as if his Spirit Vision had been activated.

Simultaneously, he seemed to connect with the unseen power within him.

His chest warmed once more, and a faint, horrifying voice echoed, but without consequence.

Phew… Lumian ceased dancing, unfastened his clothing, and inspected his chest.

The black thorn symbol reemerged, accompanied by the bluish-black one.

Lumian’s thoughts briefly scattered but quickly returned to normal. He had achieved the desired effect perfectly.

He then calculated the precise duration from the emergence of the black thorn symbol to its disappearance.

It lasted approximately one minute.

Lumian fastened his clothes and prepared to try the other bizarre dance.

It was crazy and warped, and he couldn’t describe it properly.

As he danced, his spirituality spread out again, blending with the natural forces surrounding him.

In the last third of the dance, he sensed something strange approaching.

Three figures appeared on the first-floor window, but they were blurry and transparent. Lumian recognized them as the skinless monster, the shotgun monster, and the mouth orifice monster with the black mark.

He muttered in amusement, Is this a victims’ complaints meeting?

Lumian could make one of the monsters attach to him and borrow their abilities by taking out a ritual silver dagger and making a cut on his body to release some blood.

He craved the mouth orifice monster’s “invisibility” but resisted the urge—lest something happened via allowing a monster he murdered to possess him—and finished the dance.

As Lumian danced the last few moves, he heard weak and soft voices.

It sounded like many people communicating, but it was unclear where the voices came from.

Lumian analyzed it and realized the voices seemed to come from his body, from the corruption that had been sealed.

After the last move, Lumian stood there and muttered to himself, What did I hear?

Lumian was only semi-literate in the field of mysticism and couldn’t identify the source of the soft sounds he heard. He had no choice but to give up, as it wasn’t more terrifying than the corruption itself.

After the sounds subsided and him finishing the two mysterious dances, Lumian confirmed that the Dancer had enhanced his spirituality. Although he knew he was most likely inferior to Sequence 9s who excelled in spirituality, he had escaped the shackles of being a Hunter. He felt he was above average.

My shortcomings have been compensated for. Lumian was very happy about this.

Lumian didn’t dwell on what would happen to his body after enduring the Dancer’s power and the corresponding corruption. He couldn’t stop it, so he decided not to think about it. He rubbed his tired head and made up his mind to rest for the night, returning to the real world to wait for the owl!