Chapter 19 “Underground Gathering Hall”
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The individuals wearing hooded cloaks, their faces obscured by the fabric, instantly recognized Duncan’s determined presence in the middle of the road.
Duncan, looking the same as when he had left the dark cave, stood defiantly with his frail and gaunt body wrapped in tattered clothes. A hastily mended fabric covered a significant wound on his chest. He boldly stood in the road’s center, unflinching even as the sudden appearance of the cloaked figures startled him. Equally surprised, the mysterious figures hesitated momentarily until their apparent leader broke the silence, shouting, “One sacrifice has slipped away!”
Immediately, the group rushed towards Duncan, their cries of “Hurry! Restrain him! Don’t let him escape!” echoing behind them.
Duncan nonchalantly shrugged, his gaze steady as he faced the advancing figures. Their menacing attire did not provoke him to flee; instead, he assessed the situation and chose to stand his ground. Yet, the shouts of “Don’t let him escape!” and “One sacrifice has escaped!” continued from the group.
Duncan’s bold decision to remain in the middle of the road created an awkward tension. As the noisy hooded figures drew closer, sensing the oddity of the situation, their shouts subsided, though they couldn’t halt their advance towards him. He could almost sense the mingled humiliation and anger emanating from beneath their shadowy hoods. They soon encircled him, forming an uneasy and angry mob.
It was then that Duncan scrutinized those encircling him. After a brief pause, he joked, “Shouldn’t I have fled by now? Considering the vibe here…”
His jest went unheard as the hooded figures watched him suspiciously before shifting their focus to the scenery behind Duncan. Two members of the group quickly began whispering to each other.
Duncan overheard snippets of their conversation:
“Why did one of them break loose?”
“Do you think the church’s hounds found this hiding place… he doesn’t seem like someone they’d intentionally free…”
“Regardless, we need to bring him back. This runaway sacrifice doesn’t make sense… We need to act quickly.”
“Leave the decision to the emissary.”
Duncan knew neither the identities of these people nor the mysterious “emissary” they referred to. However, their strange behavior and the use of the term “sacrifice” suggested the eerie truths of this place, though still shrouded in secrecy.
Uncertain how to behave as a typical “sacrifice” and having no interest in participating in their odd “charade,” Duncan felt quite detached. Being only a fleeting presence outside the Vanished and navigating the world in a temporary physical form, he feared little. Thus, after a quick look around, he calmly asked, “Where exactly are you taking me?”
A wave of surprise moved through the hooded figures at the composed question from the supposed “sacrifice.” Though their dark veils hid their expressions, Duncan sensed their astonishment. One of the cloaked figures responded through the concealing fabric in an intimidating tone, “You’re in no position to question us—seize him!”
As the hooded figures closed in, ready to seize him, Duncan preempted their actions by stepping forward and stating, “There’s no need for manhandling. I’ll accompany you willingly.”
The hooded figures exchanged a glance of bewilderment, struck by the nonchalant demeanor of their supposed “sacrifice.” Nevertheless, the group’s leader, gesturing dismissively, replied, “That’s more like it. Ultimately, escape is futile… Follow us, and you might retain some dignity when you face the divine.”
The cloaked figures then formed a tight circle around Duncan, blocking any possible escape routes, and led him deeper into the dank recesses of the sewer system.
Navigating through the sewer, ripe with revolting odors and filth, would be nauseating to anyone unaccustomed, but the hooded figures moved with ease along the grimy, mildewed path. Duncan, maintaining a stoic and silent demeanor, followed closely behind, attentively listening to their sporadic conversations. Although their discussions were sparse, he caught potentially informative terms like “Pland” (presumably a place), “Governor,” and “Church.”
“Are we in the city-state of Pland?” Duncan suddenly asked, his tone casual as if he were conversing with familiar acquaintances.
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“Certainly…” one hooded figure replied instinctively before catching himself and giving Duncan a puzzled look. “You’re extraordinarily calm, kid. Do you know what’s about to happen?”
“I have an inkling,” Duncan affirmed, a hint of a smile touching his lips. He then ventured a guess, “The authentic Black Sun… Am I correct?”
The pace of the hooded figures momentarily faltered. They seemed to misinterpret Duncan’s unique reaction. One whispered to a companion, “Hold on, could he be a disciple of the Lord?”
“Impossible, he obviously fled as a sacrifice…” another cloaked figure retorted, giving Duncan a sidelong glance. “You’re smart, but don’t think you can evade the sacrificial fate… The Lord has already decreed your destiny. You’d be wise to accept it willingly.”
Duncan kept his emotions hidden, aware that his unusual calmness had led these apparent zealots to make misguided assumptions. They possibly thought he was feigning tranquility and posing as a “devotee” to ensure his survival. However, the true circumstances were known only to Duncan.
His temporary corporeal form was so fragile that even ordinary movements were strenuous, causing his facial muscles to feel as stiff as necrotic flesh and confining him to a placid, expressionless face.
Nonetheless, Duncan remained indifferent to the conjectures swirling in the minds of these cultists. His main goal was to gather as much information as possible during this unique reconnaissance mission. Without much deliberation, he posed a seemingly nonchalant question, “Do you think the current ‘sun’ gracing our skies is a forgery? Do you foresee its downfall?”
“The fraudulent sun will undoubtedly fall!” The topic visibly struck a chord with the zealots, and Duncan, to his satisfaction, heard one of them respond passionately and zealously, “Even the church’s puppets will have to admit in historical records that the sun that arose after the Great Annihilation is a twisted, grotesque entity! The true Black Sun, the harbinger of life and order, has had its rightful authority usurped by that loathsome pretender… That detestable imposter will inevitably fall from the heavens!”
As Duncan listened, the surrounding cultists joined in, their voices echoing, “The deceitful day will certainly end!” “The genuine Black Sun’s resurrection is imminent!” “The excessive seawater flooding the world will be forced back into the abyss by the Black Sun’s formidable power, reinstating Earth to an epoch of abundance and equilibrium!”
While absorbing the escalating fervor of the cultists’ declarations, Duncan’s mind buzzed with speculation. He realized that reasoning with these fanatical devotees using conventional logic was pointless, as their rigid beliefs were likely based on distorted and manipulated information. Yet, snippets of the information they revealed were intriguing—
The “sun” floating in the heavens is a fake…
The authentic Sun has been dethroned…
They see the true Sun as a fallen deity destined for a “resurrection through blood and fire”…
They’ve also mentioned a world overwhelmed with seawater and a time of prosperity and stability… What could these references mean?
Duncan’s mind teemed with myriad thoughts, but the cultists soon regained their composure. They remembered their primary objective—that they were escorting an escaped “sacrifice” back to their fold.
The cultists closest to Duncan resumed their silence, while a quiet dialogue ensued between two at the back of the group:
“Don’t you think there’s something odd about this ‘sacrifice’?”
“Yes, he seems unusual… I’m feeling a sense of unease.”
“Do you think this sacrifice spent too long in the light-deprived underworld before escaping, and it somehow altered his mind…?”
“If so, it’s all the more appropriate. The Lord’s power will purify him.”
Duncan’s interest was particularly piqued by the mention of the “lightless underworld” as he listened to the whispering discourse behind him. Just as he was attempting to glean more details from their conversation, the procession’s leader suddenly stopped.
“We’re here,” the leading cultist announced in a chilling, monotone voice, shrouded in his black robe.
Duncan felt a fleeting pang of disappointment, having wanted to extract more information. However, his immediate focus was soon captured by the spectacle unfolding before him.
They had reached the end of their path, where several sewer tunnels converged. In this expansive clearing, akin to a small subterranean chamber, a congregation of hooded cultists was assembled!
Cult, religions and gods, love it. Thanks for the chapter!
So i guess duncan’s compass allows him to possess corpse.