Lumian couldn't make sense of it, but he didn't dwell on it either. He rolled up his sleeves, baring his right arm, and sliced it with the Fallen Mercury blade.
A brief moment of numbness was followed by a familiar pain, but he didn't flinch. He watched as blood oozed out and stained the silver-black blade crimson.
Almost instantaneously, a mercury illusory river, composed of intricate symbols, materialized before Lumian's eyes. The destiny droplets stored in the evil dirk seeped from its tip and flowed into the shallow wound.
Lumian concentrated, straining to discern the fate he sought to exchange.
He "saw" himself receiving treatment, "saw" himself falling asleep after releasing his emotions, and "saw" himself searching for Osta Trul…
Scenes flashed across Lumian's mind as if he had witnessed them firsthand.
Soon after, he located the fate of venturing outside the catacombs and encountering the Montsouris ghost from several days prior.
