Chapter 690 - 690 Death's Symphony
690 Death’s Symphony
Lumian endured the pain in his soul and eardrums as he activated the black mark on his right shoulder.
His figure abruptly vanished, swiftly materializing beside Camus and Hisoka.
As the residual silver-white electric currents surged into the ground, Hisoka, in Wraith form, was about to escape the paralysis’s effects. Lumian activated the black mark on his right chest.
This corresponded to the Spell of Harrumph.
Just as he was about to harrumph, a sudden premonition of danger struck him. He abruptly turned around and stepped back.
A spear condensed from the light of dawn hurtled from afar, spanning a distance of 30 to 40 meters. It flew past Lumian and plunged into the soil behind him, leaving a deep hole as thick as an arm.
Lumian saw his attacker–one of the gravekeepers on the verge of escaping to the periphery.
He was tall, and even in his black robe, his robust strength was evident. A broadsword of light had already condensed in his hand.
A Dawn Paladin? A gravekeeper who received a boon from the Warrior pathway from the black ancient tomb? Lumian wasn’t surprised at all. Instead, it only confirmed his suspicions.
What made his scalp tingle was that the other gravekeepers had also turned to face him.
The dozen or so bestowed locked their gazes onto Lumian.
Hisoka had already broken free from the paralysis caused by the electric shock. Worried about the Spell of Harrumph’s control, he endured the pain and leaped into the eyes of one of the gravekeepers. Then, he broke free and transformed back into a human.
He looked at Lumian, who was dozens of meters away, and his smile widened.
I’m also a gravekeeper now. Harming me means harming the gravekeepers!
Although they won’t actively assist me and will try to escape once the tomb is opened using the current method, they will undoubtedly react if you threaten me.
This is one of the reasons I dared to “invite” outsiders to the Dream Festival and guide them here.
Unfortunately, my main body is dead, and I can’t obtain the promised godhood item from the Celestial Worthy and Loki to resist the outsiders’ high-level powers. For now, I can only wait patiently.
According to the original plan, if something went wrong, I could choose to abandon the corpse in the tomb and help the Nois family’s Demon obtain it to aid the Rose School of Thought in exchange for other rewards. Now, I must obtain the corpse and become its “spirit.”
Only then can I survive after the Dream Festival and maintain my consciousness and rationality as a demigod-level undead creature.
However, these matters don’t concern you, Lumian. You have to face a Guardian and multiple Spirit Warlocks, Gatekeepers, Soul Assurers, Spirit Guides, and Dawn Paladins…
No one below Sequence 4 can withstand the assault of such a Beyonder “army!”
Lumian watched as the gravekeepers’ gazes fell upon him. Some of them even condensed broadswords of light. As they charged forward, Lumian tensed up. He reached out, grabbed Camus’s shoulder, and teleported away from his current position.
Not long after they vanished, the ground silently collapsed, and pale-white palms extended outward.
Lumian appeared beside the severely injured Rhea with Camus and grabbed her shoulder with his other hand.
Then, the trio swiftly vanished, reappearing beside Amandina, who had awakened from the electric shock.
The distance between them and the gravekeepers widened to nearly a hundred meters.
Lumian clamped his feet around Amandina’s arm, releasing the accumulated spirituality and strength in his body.
His condition returned to normal, and he activated the black mark on his right shoulder once more.
This time, the four of them teleported to Lugano, who was self-healing.
As Lumian continued to flash, some of the gravekeepers’ Beyonder powers failed to hit them. The remaining ones were forced to change directions repeatedly, preventing them from closing the distance.
Just as Lugano was about to tell his employer, “Let’s escape quickly. Teleport us back to Tizamo,” he saw Lumian toss Camus and Rhea towards him.
Thud!
The three of them collapsed together, followed by Amandina.
“Ha!”
Lumian spat out a pale-yellow light, enveloping the four of them.
Lugano, Amandina, and the others lost consciousness. With their souls’ strength, it would take them at least a minute to regain consciousness without external stimulation.
With this done, Lumian teleported away once more, preventing himself from being targeted by the gravekeepers whose abilities were effective at this distance.
His body vanished, and the gravekeepers, including Hisoka, lost sight of him.
Lumian silently materialized behind the gravekeepers, appearing in front of a palm tree.
Leaning against the rough trees, he retrieved an item from his Traveler’s Bag.
It was a blackened bone flute with blood-colored holes.
Symphony of Hatred!
Lumian’s lips curled up as he brought the sinister bone flute to his lips with a smile.
Almost simultaneously, “Hisoka” Twanaku felt a strong premonition of danger. He abruptly turned around, spotted Lumian, and locked onto him. He activated his Devil form, transforming into a pitch-black monster nearly three meters tall with curved goat horns and bat-like wings.
Hisoka instinctively abandoned his Wraith form, forsaking the plan of possessing Lumian Lee and restraining him. He found it impossible to remain calm under the aura capable of conquering everything and reflexively fled from the other party.
Accompanied by Hisoka’s movements, the gravekeepers also turned.
Lumian’s lips touched the black bone flute, emitting a bloody scent, and he played the first note.
The smile on his face widened.
In the real world, facing such a large group of Sequence 7, 6, and 5 Beyonders, he could only teleport Lugano and the others back to Tizamo. However, this was the Dream Festival. Apart from the few who had recently arrived and could remain lucid, the others were either fused with their dream projections or allowed the corresponding dream projections to move independently.
Dream projections were formed from excessive desires and emotions, and they would lose control during the Dream Festival.
Realizing that Hisoka’s dream projection could also become a gravekeeper and maintain a certain level of lucidity and rationality, Lumian believed that it wasn’t that the gravekeepers didn’t have dream projections, but that they had fused with them. Using their uniqueness and their self-control in their lucid state, they barely suppressed them.
Such targets were the Symphony of Hatred’s favorite prey.
It could inflict an attack on the weakness of an enemy’s mind or body who heard the corresponding melody. Those with unstable minds might experience symptoms akin to madness. Those with psychological issues might have latent problems triggered. There’s even a chance that excessive desires could cause them to explode on the spot. Individuals with illnesses or old injuries would inevitably face severe consequences. Those less fortunate might find themselves trapped in extreme misfortune.
Faced with the dream projections—against the gravekeepers who might have fused with them, Lumian felt that the Symphony of Hatred could be miraculously effective, igniting 100% of the targets’ excessive desires and emotions!
Therefore, he chose to make such an attempt. If it failed, he would teleport back to the unconscious Amandina and company, hold onto them, and return to Tizamo.
A melodious and sorrowful melody sounded, but “Hisoka” Twanaku, who was too late to stop Lumian, instinctively burned the two curved and mysterious goat horns on his head.
Mental Shock!
Lumian’s emotions swelled, and the melody he played was filled with unmistakable pain and hatred.
He also saw many spirits, as well as the gravekeepers wielding broadswords of light, rushing towards him in various ways.
He continued playing the Symphony of Hatred.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Apart from the unconscious Rhea’s dream projection, all the gravekeepers, including Hisoka, halted with contorted expressions.
They heard illusory explosions in their bodies and minds, and their eyes instantly turned bloodshot. They lost control of their bodies, and their ears were filled with buzzing sounds.
They couldn’t see, hear, or think. Their bodies and souls had been severely injured.
The same went for “Hisoka” Twanaku. In essence, he remained a dream projection formed by extreme emotions and desires.
However, as he suffered the Symphony of Hatred’s weakness attack, he also ignited Lumian’s emotions and desires from the impact.
Lumian’s mind buzzed, and blood vessels bulged in his green eyes. A viscous liquid reeking of blood flowed from his nose, and his internal organs seemed to suffer varying degrees of damage.
The Symphony of Hatred fell to the ground with a thud.
More than a hundred meters away from Lumian, near the forest, the unconscious Amandina, Lugano, and company’s faces contorted, as if they were trapped in different nightmares.
Devajo, weakened by spitting out blood to the human skin, silently approached the edge of the forest, ready to escape at any moment. However, he heard the Symphony of Hatred’s melody.
He froze, vomiting copious amounts of bright red blood that reeked of sulfur. His entire being weakened, and he nearly lost control.
Iveljsta watched as the evil rag doll emitted a silent shriek, transforming the crystal skull with its golden mask and its invisible “ferry” into a pale-white goat. Just as he was about to approach the silent river in front of the black ancient tomb in delight, his pale-white face instantly flushed red, and dark-red blood flowed from the corners of his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.
He had also suffered the explosion of emotions and desires, but he wasn’t a dream projection, nor had he fused with one. Therefore, he was only severely injured, unlike the gravekeepers and Devajo, who were pushed to the brink of death.
Reaza, who had maintained his lucidity and rationality without a dream projection, panted heavily, as if caught in a struggle of his own. His cold eyes became rather lost.
In the area where the black tomb resided, only the evil rag doll, the human skin man, and the pale-white goat with the golden mask remained unaffected by the Symphony of Hatred.
Relying on his Ascetic endurance, Lumian quickly recovered from the severe damage caused by the explosion of desire and emotions.
Gazing at Hisoka and the others, who had yet to recover, he smiled and extended his right palm.
A colossal white-hot fireball swiftly condensed, engulfed in silver-white lightning, and launched.
Upon reaching the gravekeepers’ area, it split into nearly 20 smaller lightning fireballs that blasted at “Hisoka” Twanaku and the gravekeepers.
Precision!
Rumble!
Blazing white flames and silver-white lightning surged simultaneously. Lumian watched as the gravekeepers, already on the brink of death, collapsed like straw, their lives extinguished one after another.
This is what Culling means… Lumian closed his eyes and took it in.
Rumble!
Apart from the unconscious Rhea’s dream projection and the Guardian struggling to hold on, the gravekeepers were all dead. Only “Hisoka” Twanaku, his body still emitting silver- white lightning, remained.
His eyes were bloodshot, on the verge of losing control.
At that moment, he saw a flaming spear wrapped in silver-
white lightning fly over and collide with the side of his nose.
Amidst a sizzling sound, the blazing white flaming spear pierced through his skull, igniting his brain and flying behind him, leaving behind raging silver-white electric snakes.
As the flames dissipated, Lumian’s figure appeared, his back facing “Hisoka” Twanaku.
The Devil-form Hisoka’s eyes glazed over. He swayed a few times before collapsing to the ground.
Weakness Investigation!
Cull!