Differences

"About the same strength as 'last time'..." Lumian looked down at the skinless monster's corpse and murmured under his breath. Before time turned back, he had traded blows with this creature back and forth, only managing what looked like an easy victory by thoroughly outsmarting it. Now, it had taken a single swing of his axe. Of course, part of it was that he had lived through this "before"—he knew the sneak attack inside out and had anticipated it ahead of time. Even so, the stark before-and-after contrast was enough to make him feel the qualitative leap in power he had gained from becoming a Beyonder. After pondering for a couple of seconds, Lumian dragged the skinless monster's body and severed head into a corner, leaving them uncovered by stones, wood, or dirt, fully exposed alongside the blood pooling on the ground. Next, he swiftly searched the half-collapsed building, pinpointing the remaining 197 ferrins and 25 kopecks before sorting the coins into different pockets. He also leafed through the little blue book once more, finding nothing out of the ordinary. With everything done, he made his way deeper into the ruins. Yet after advancing merely twenty or thirty meters, he circled back to where he started, retracing the skinless monster's path in life to nimbly scramble onto the half-collapsed roof. Once his preparations were complete, he concealed himself. Minutes ticked by. Lumian waited with great patience, like a seasoned hunter staking out his prey. After who knew how long, a figure approached from elsewhere in the ruins. It was half-man, half-beast in shape, its knees bending forward with its shins, greasy black hair hanging down over its shoulders, a hunting rifle strapped across its back. It was none other than the very monster that had yielded Lumian a Hunter Beyonder characteristic "before." The shotgun monster advanced cautiously, as though on a routine patrol. Suddenly, its nostrils twitched. It spotted a large pool of blood on the ground in the distance. It quickly changed direction, drawing near the fire-gutted, half-collapsed building. Following the blood trail, the shotgun monster found the skinless monster's corpse and severed head. It crouched down and began a careful examination. Up on the half-collapsed roof, Lumian shook his head at the sight and mused silently, *It didn't catch my scent even at this distance? *Even if the stench of blood is masking it, it shouldn't be completely oblivious!* Muttering to himself, he raised his axe and drove it hard into a fissure he had pre-chiseled on the side. *Crash!* The half-collapsed roof gave a violent shudder, and heavy slabs of masonry came crashing down. The shotgun monster reacted with lightning speed. Twisting its waist, it kicked off hard with both legs and leaped toward an area that had not yet given way. Lumian smiled. He pounced from the stable section of the roof, like an eagle swooping down upon prey in midair. Amid the howling rush of wind, Lumian collided with the shotgun monster in midair. One had the high ground and raised his axe with one hand, while the other had its back turned to the drop and struggled to twist around to block. Lumian punched downward with his clenched left fist. As the creature raised its arm to parry, Lumian's fingers sprang open, his force softening as he seized it in an iron grip. Wrenching back with his left hand, Lumian swung the axe in his right downward with crushing momentum. With a wet *thud*, amid spurting blood, man and monster slammed to the ground together. Cushioned by his "pad," Lumian was unfazed. He raised his hand and chopped down with the axe once more. No matter how reluctant the shotgun monster might be, its head was torn from its shoulders and tumbled across the ground for two full turns. Lumian rose to his feet. Staring down at the creature, he let out a low sneer. "You've grown weaker! "All that's left is a terrifying husk. What's stuffed inside—straw?" Having become a Hunter, he had been confident in taking down the shotgun monster again, but he had never expected it to be this effortless. Gazing at the corpse on the ground, Lumian waited patiently for the Beyonder characteristic to precipitate. Yet he waited for a good while, and not a single speck of crimson light surfaced. "Nothing?" Lumian muttered in bewilderment. Curiously, he didn't feel particularly surprised. After all, he had already obtained this shotgun monster's Beyonder characteristic "last time," and it had been brewed into a potion that now resided in his own body. *As expected. Since the time reset didn't turn me back into an ordinary person or strip away the Beyonder characteristic inside me, it means there is one less Hunter characteristic here. The shotgun monster simply returned to a living state, but without its underlying essence to sustain it... The question now is, why did I retain my state from before time turned back?* Unable to come up with an answer for the moment, Lumian looted the few copper coins off the shotgun monster and headed out of the ruins. ... Come morning, Lumian did not feign a headache before his sister to bring up the subject of mysticism, as he had on the previous March 30. Instead, he got out of bed early and set about preparing breakfast. Toasted bread, soft-boiled fried eggs, and sliced smoked bacon were laid out on the dining table one by one. "My, so industrious?" Aurore said, coming downstairs to the sight in surprise. "I thought with all that drinking yesterday, you wouldn't be able to get out of bed this morning." Lumian replied offhandedly, "It was just a glass of sour cider and a glass of absinthe. How is that a lot?" "What's there to be proud of? Aside from wine, which is fine in moderation, alcoholic beverages are unhealthy and bad for the brain." Aurore shook her head with a laugh. "No wonder you're getting dumber by the day, my little drunkard brother." Never one to win an argument against his sister, Lumian mumbled softly, "Why is wine the exception?" "Because I like drinking it." Aurore wore an expression that dared him to object. Lumian was left speechless. After finishing breakfast, he showed no rush to leave the house, instead setting to work kneading dough. Watching this, Aurore marveled openly: "Did you get into some kind of terrible trouble? Being so well-behaved... "Out with it. Your sister won't beat you—at most, I'll add an extra combat lesson." "I didn't." Seizing the opening, Lumian brought up the topic: "I just feel like the atmosphere in the village is getting stranger and stranger, and some people are acting more and more abnormal. Aurore, have you felt it?" From what he had observed, his sister truly had no memory of the timeline that had been rewound. Yet the village's anomalies certainly hadn't sprung up out of nowhere over the last few days; there must have been warning signs prior to March 29. As a Mystery Pryer, Aurore might have sensed something, even if she hadn't paid it enough heed. Aurore's expression turned a touch more serious. "Even you've noticed something's wrong? "Tell me, which people gave you that impression?" *She really does know some people have issues; she just didn't realize how severe it was...* Washing his hands, Lumian weighed his words carefully. "Madame Pualis, the parish priest, Pons Bénet, and Pierre Berry, the shepherd who came back early." "Madame Pualis does have issues. Ever since she and the administrator arrived in Cordu, I knew something was off about her, but she's been very restrained. Aside from carrying on one extramarital affair after another, there's nothing about her that could be called evil." Aurore recalled slowly, "I once saw something on her..." Aurore trailed off, apparently reluctant to draw Lumian into the world of the supernatural. *One extramarital affair after another?* Before Lumian had caught Madame Pualis and the parish priest in the act, he had taken her for a respectable lady. Who would have guessed the parish priest wasn't even her first lover? Granted, that fit right into Lumian's current stereotype of Madame Pualis. "As for the parish priest, he's just like you—he craves supernatural power, but he's never received a boon from the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun," Aurore said, thinking aloud. "A muscle-brained brute like Pons Bénet isn't capable of pulling off anything bizarre... As for Pierre Berry, those sheep he drove back this time seem a bit off, but I can't put my finger on what's wrong, and I didn't dare look too deeply..." *As expected of a Sequence 7 of the Mystery Pryer pathway... Before time reset, I talked far too little with Aurore about these things, missing such a vital clue as Pierre Berry's sheep possibly having an issue... Well, back then, I didn't suspect Pierre Berry much either; I only thought it strange that he rushed back early for the Lent Festival...* Just as Lumian was about to speak, a jangling chime rang out from the entrance. The doorbell to their house had been pulled. "Who is it?" Lumian called out, walking over. "A telegram for Aurore!" a voice shouted back from outside. "A telegram?" Aurore looked bewildered. "Who'd send me a telegram? There's nothing urgent going on lately..." Lumian was equally mystified. On the March 30 before time turned back, the household had never received a telegram! *No, wait. On that March 30, I left early for the village square to wait for Raymond. Maybe Aurore received a telegram and simply didn't mention it to me...* Finding a plausible explanation, Lumian swung the front door open. Standing outside was indeed Bertrand, the administrator's subordinate in charge of telegrams. Handing a slip of paper to Lumian, he said, "One ferrin." With brown hair and hazel eyes, Bertrand was not a Cordu native. He had accompanied the administrator here from Dariège—a young man whose warm demeanor barely concealed his greedy nature. Lumian produced a one-ferrin silver coin, tossed it to Bertrand, and lowered his gaze to read the telegram. The message was straightforward, and he scanned through the gist of it in seconds: "The writers' salon mentioned previously is scheduled for June. Should you be willing, Miss Aurore, you may depart for Trier now to allow ample time for sightseeing. We assure you, it will be a most delightful journey." It was signed by the editorial department of *Novel Weekly*. *This...* Lumian's eyes snapped wide. *A reply from Novel Weekly?* "When did I ever say I wanted to attend a writers' salon?" Aurore leaned in, skimming the lines. "Has the editorial department of *Novel Weekly* lost its mind? Having to meet that many people all at once is such a bother!" By this point, Bertrand had already walked away from the doorstep. Hearing Aurore's words and pairing them with the contents of the telegram, the stunned Lumian was struck by a daring realization: The telegram in his hands was indeed a reply from *Novel Weekly*, but it was answering the very telegram he would only send out several days from now! To be precise, a telegram he had sent before time reset had received its reply after the rewind—even though, in his current timeline, that telegram had yet to be sent!