Chapter 108: The Illusory Scorching Sun

As Duncan navigated the turbulent darkness enveloping him, he began to grasp why society so deeply feared and vilified the Vanished and its captain. The ship was seen as an omen of doom, akin to an incurable illness spreading calamity. This perception cast Duncan in a role of dread and disdain, mirroring the ship’s ominous reputation.

Duncan’s eyes fixated on the flickering flame he conjured between his hands. The fire appeared tame and controllable, yet he was keenly aware of its immense, nearly boundless power. In his world, fire was not just a source of light and warmth; it was a primordial force crucial to humanity’s survival and progress through countless challenges. Fire maintained a delicate balance between the supernatural and the physical, symbolizing divine grace and the gods’ protection. Whenever the supernatural was invoked, fire played an overwhelmingly important role.

However, the flame Duncan wielded was unlike any other, even among supernatural fires. It was uniquely malevolent, tinged with dangerous attributes like corruption, concealment, usurpation, and sacrilegious power. According to the sparse information he had gathered, this mystical fire could taint and distort supernatural objects, inhabit the corpses of the dead, and nestle within the souls of the living. Even a saint’s powers couldn’t completely eradicate it. Under the right conditions, this enigmatic fire could lie dormant within a soul, forming a covert connection with the Vanished, akin to an undetectable, incurable disease.

Drawing a deep breath to steady himself, Duncan pondered the fragile connection he had recently established with Vanna, a saint, and how it might be advantageous. He theorized that by using the right “medium” and a specific “trigger,” he could access Vanna’s immediate environment through his senses. His proximity to the mystical “mirror” suggested he could also extend his powers to Vanna’s surroundings, likely by corrupting any existing flames.

Upon forming this psychic connection, Duncan felt a distinct resonance with the “fire” near Vanna, affirming his belief that fire was crucial for maintaining this ethereal link. He speculated that the mystical “mirror” and the unique properties of the “fire” could serve as ritual tools in the supernatural realm. The specific trigger remained an enigma.

Duncan’s thoughts drifted back to the moment the mysterious connection with Vanna was established. The words that echoed in his ears at that pivotal instant were, “…It might actually link them to the Vanished.” Almost immediately after hearing that sentence, he felt the ethereal bond form, leading him to speculate that the trigger for this connection could be embedded within those very words.

“Could it be the term Vanished?” Duncan mused.

Though his understanding of the supernatural was limited, he knew the monumental importance of “names” in this realm. The power of a name wasn’t trivial; uttering it could summon or channel certain energies. His own name, “Duncan Abnomar,” and his ship’s name, “Vanished,” seemed to hold inherent power.

Piecing this logic together, Duncan theorized a mechanism for the bond. When Vanna, serving as the “carrier,” spoke the term “Vanished” in the presence of the flame and the mystical mirror, the connection between her and the Vanished—and consequently him—could solidify instantly. If he actively acknowledged this “call” at that exact moment, the supernatural channel would establish itself.

His eyes, previously lost and unfocused, snapped back to the present. While Duncan harbored no specific grievances against the Storm Church or animosity toward the young inquisitor, Vanna, he had no desire to harm her using this newfound link. However, he acknowledged that if this connection occasionally yielded useful insights, it would be beneficial.

As his thoughts crystallized, the chaotic, dark void that had engulfed him began to dissipate. The specks of light, resembling distant stars, faded away, and Duncan found himself back in his bedroom.

Beside him lay a mask designed to resemble the sun, which he initially thought was gold. His pet dove, Ai, perched on a nearby table, snoozing quietly. He recalled sending Ai earlier to communicate with a goat head, but the creature appeared uninterested in dialogue, sending the dove back instead.

After a moment’s hesitation, Duncan picked up the sun-shaped mask. Despite the unpredictable events and the influx of unforeseen information, he felt things were aligning once more. It was an opportune moment to explore the properties of this so-called “Solar Relic.”

As he scrutinized the mask’s intricacies, his eyes caught a tiny imperfection—a small chip at one of its corners revealing a darker material underneath. Just as he was about to investigate further, Ai suddenly sprang to life, hopping energetically and flapping her wings, exclaiming, “Copper-plated iron! Copper-plated iron!”

Hearing Ai’s surprising exclamation, Duncan focused more intently on the mask’s flaw. Using his fingernail, he scraped away at the damaged section for a closer look. After a few seconds, he sighed and announced with disappointment, “It really is just copper-plated iron. Not even gold-plated.”

Adding insult to injury, he noticed certain areas at the mask’s corner had started to oxidize, turning a telltale shade of green.

“Is this a joke?” Duncan’s disappointment was palpable as he held up the mask, which now seemed to be nothing more than an overhyped trinket. His eyes filled with dejection as he examined the tarnished object. “I had hoped to get something valuable from those cultists. Even if this is a mass-produced item, shouldn’t there be some semblance of quality control for something they call a ‘relic’?”

The dove, Ai, seemed to find Duncan’s discontent amusing. Rolling its eyes in a decidedly avian manner, it flapped its wings and squawked, “Do you guarantee the authenticity of everything in your own shop?”

It took Duncan a moment to grasp the implication behind Ai’s snarky retort: “So you’re saying I’m a hypocrite?” Remembering some of the less-than-authentic items he had sold in his store, including modern knockoffs masquerading as ancient artifacts, Duncan shot the dove a withering glance. “Fine, point taken. Now hush,” he muttered, feeling slightly sheepish.

Brushing off the dove’s sarcastic comment, Duncan redirected his attention to the so-called “golden mask.”

Now certain that the mask was essentially a cheap, mass-produced imitation, Duncan felt unburdened by hesitation as he initiated his investigative “tests.”

A ghostly green flame emanated from his fingertips, gracefully dancing across the mask’s surface, tracing its elaborate designs. The flame, under Duncan’s guidance, infiltrated the mask’s deeper layers, probing its supposed “relic” status.

Despite its apparent lack of authenticity, Duncan reasoned the mask must hold some mystical significance. Its design, though trivial in material, might be inscribed with esoteric meaning. If a sun priest could use this object to converse with a deity, surely the mask had properties worthy of study within the framework of supernatural artifacts.

His experience dealing with supernatural phenomena had taught him a clear-cut method—when in doubt, set it on fire. Recently, this method proved highly effective when he incinerated Alice’s coffin with his mystical green flames.

As his flames permeated the mask, Duncan sharpened his focus, attempting to discern any hidden information or mystical essence embedded in the artifact.

Given that this was a mass-produced object, Duncan was skeptical about the richness of its spiritual “essence,” especially compared to more authentic items like Alice’s intricately designed doll sarcophagus. Nonetheless, he believed he would quickly unearth whatever secrets the mask held, then corrupt it to align with his own energies.

With this goal in mind, he delved his consciousness deeper into the mask’s material—only for the situation to abruptly spiral out of control!

A resounding explosion, akin to a thunderclap, echoed in his mind. It felt like he had torn through a veil, breaking into an entirely new dimension within the seemingly mundane mask. His consciousness was instantly engulfed by an overwhelming and searing force, as if catapulted through a cosmic portal or flung through gates to an unfathomable realm. A torrent of awe-inspiring visions flooded his mind, overwhelming him with their sheer magnitude and intensity.

It may have lasted only a second, perhaps even less, but in that ephemeral span, a rush of vivid images bombarded Duncan’s consciousness. Foremost among them was an orb of intense fire, a burning celestial body isolated in the vacuum of space. It wasn’t just any star; it was the sun—a true, magnificent sun with a gravitational force so compelling it seemed to tug at the very fabric of his being.

Engulfed in the overwhelming heat and immense gravity, Duncan stood before this blazing spectacle. Remarkably, he wasn’t consumed by its scorching temperatures. The sun before him was paradoxical—it appeared to exist but also didn’t. It had all the attributes of the sun, its grandiosity, its radiance, but felt like a mere echo from a distant epoch, an entity that once existed in all its glory but now couldn’t influence the tangible world.

Mesmerized, Duncan fixed his gaze on this enigmatic celestial body, which then slowly began to rotate, revealing a darker aspect.

As the sun turned, what lay behind it was terrifying—dark, pallid flesh spread across a massive expanse, intermingled with countless withered tendrils spanning millions of kilometers. These grotesque tendrils and layers of flesh converged to encase an enormous, half-open eye. An eye that seemed ancient, so deteriorated it looked as though it had decayed for millennia.

The tendrils and flesh served as a facade, imitating the sun’s corona, a false front bursting with radiant energy. It was as if some incomprehensible entity was desperately trying to imitate the sun, embody its essence, but could only produce an imperfect, distorted replica.

Then, a soft, almost inaudible voice whispered in Duncan’s ear. It was so faint and surreal he wasn’t sure if he was hearing it or imagining it. The ethereal voice pleaded, “Usurper of fire… extinguish me… please…”

For those that just want to support me, you can follow the link to paypal donating. Sadly you won’t be able to get the benefit of reading ahead 

[Table of Content]

[Previous Chapter]

[Next Chapter]