Chapter 108 “The Illusory Scorching Sun”

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In the shroud of turbulent darkness that enveloped him, Duncan was beginning to comprehend the reasons behind society’s deeply ingrained dread and disdain for the Vanished and its vilification of him, the ship’s captain, as though he were an omen of impending doom. In many respects, the Vanished did serve as a living calamity, mirroring the widespread devastation wrought by an incurable illness.

Duncan’s eyes were fixated on the wavering flame he conjured between his hands. The fire seemed tame and manageable, yet he was acutely aware of its vast, almost limitless power. In the world he inhabited, fire wasn’t merely a source of illumination and warmth; it was a primordial force that enabled humanity to persevere and prosper through innumerable adversities. Fire was integral to maintaining a delicate equilibrium between the supernatural and the physical realms, symbolizing the divine grace and safeguarding the gods offered to human beings. In any circumstance that invoked the supernatural, fire stood as an element of overwhelming importance.

However, the flame Duncan wielded was unlike any other. Even when compared to other supernatural fires, his was uniquely malevolent. It was a fire tinged with dangerous attributes like corruption, concealment, usurpation, and sacrilegious power. According to the scarce data he had gathered, this mystical fire possessed the capability to taint and distort supernatural objects. It could inhabit the corpses of the dead and nestle surreptitiously within the souls of the living. Even the purported powers of a saint could not eradicate it entirely. Given the right conditions, this enigmatic fire could lie dormant within a soul, forming a covert connection with the Vanished, akin to a nearly undetectable, incurable disease. As far as Duncan could assess, even the saints’ powers seemed futile against this insidious flame.

Drawing in a deep breath to steady himself, Duncan pondered on the frail connection he had recently established with Vanna, a saint, and how it might serve him well. He hypothesized that by employing the right “medium” and a specific “trigger,” he could access Vanna’s immediate environment through his senses. Moreover, his proximity to the mystical “mirror” suggested that he could also extend his own powers to Vanna’s surroundings—most likely by corrupting any existing flames in the vicinity.

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. As for what might serve as the appropriate “medium” and “trigger,” the mystical “mirror” and the unique properties of the “fire” seemed likely candidates to function as ritual tools in the supernatural realm. As for what the specific trigger might be, that remained an enigma he had yet to solve.

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

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

Although his understanding of the supernatural was far from exhaustive, even his limited knowledge confirmed the monumental importance of “names” within this realm. The power of a name wasn’t trivial; it was almost as though uttering it could summon or channel certain energies. His own name, “Duncan Abnomar,” as well as the name of his ship, “Vanished,” seemed to hold an inherent power.

Piecing together this logic, Duncan theorized a possible 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. Should he actively acknowledge this “call” at that exact moment, the supernatural channel would establish itself.

His eyes, which had been lost, unfocused, in what seemed like distant stars, snapped back to the present. While Duncan had no specific grievances against the Storm Church and no particular animosity toward the young inquisitor, Vanna, he certainly had no desire to harm her using this newfound link. However, he admitted 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. Specks of light that had seemed like distant stars faded away, and Duncan found himself back in his bedroom.

Beside him lay a mask designed to resemble the sun, made of what he had thought was gold. His pet dove, Ai, was perched on a nearby table, quietly snoozing. He remembered that he had sent Ai earlier to communicate with a goat-headed entity, but it appeared that the creature had been uninterested in dialogue, sending the dove back instead.

After a moment’s hesitation, Duncan picked up the sun-shaped mask. Despite the unpredictable series of events and the influx of unforeseen information, he felt like things were aligning once more. It was an opportune moment to delve into 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 further investigate, his previously dormant dove, Ai, suddenly sprang to life. Hopping energetically and flapping her wings, Ai blurted out, “Copper-plated iron! Copper-plated iron!”

Hearing Ai’s surprising exclamation, Duncan focused even 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 a certain air of disappointment, “It really is just copper-plated iron. Not even gold-plated.”

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

“Is this a joke?” The disappointment in Duncan’s voice was palpable as he held up the mask, which now seemed to be nothing more than an overhyped trinket. His eyes were filled with dejection as he examined the tarnished object in his hands. “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 any hesitation as he initiated his investigative “tests.”

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

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

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

As he felt his flames permeating through the mask, Duncan sharpened his focus, attempting to discern any hidden information or mystical essence embedded in this artifact.

Given that this was a mass-produced object, Duncan was skeptical about the richness of its spiritual “essence,” especially compared to the more authentic items like Alice’s intricately designed doll sarcophagus. Nonetheless, he believed that 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 in the seemingly mundane mask. His consciousness was instantaneously engulfed by an overwhelming and searing force as if he had been catapulted through some cosmic portal or had flung the gates to an unfathomable realm. A torrent of awe-inspiring visions flooded into his brain, overwhelming him with their sheer magnitude and intensity.

It may have lasted only a second, perhaps even less than that, but in that ephemeral span of time, 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 the immense gravity, Duncan found himself standing before this blazing spectacle. Yet, 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 it felt as though it were a mere echo from a distant epoch, an entity that once existed in all its glory but was now incapable of influencing the tangible world.

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

As the sun turned, what lay behind it was a terrifying sight—dark, pallid flesh spread across a massive expanse, intermingled with countless withered tendrils that spanned for what seemed like 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 that it looked as though it had been decaying for millennia.

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

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

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