Chapter 195: “Disappeared”

As Dante Wayne’s polished silver fork slipped from his grasp and clattered onto his plate, the unexpected noise startled the maid standing nearby in the cavernous, almost empty dining hall.

Startled, she quickly stepped forward, her concern evident. “Mr. Dante, are you alright?”

Dante did not respond. He remained seated, his expression distant and blank, as if his very essence had been drained. Moments later, his eyes blinked rapidly, and he seemed to regain consciousness, his face as pale as someone who had narrowly escaped death.

“Mr. Dante, are you alright?” the maid’s voice echoed again, louder and more anxious in the silent room.

Dante’s eyes were fixed on the fork lying on his plate. To him, it was not just a piece of cutlery. Intense memories and vivid images from the past flooded his mind, so overwhelming that his prosthetic ruby eye began to heat up, causing him discomfort and pain.

Abruptly, he turned his head towards the maid, his voice deep and urgent, “Has there been any word from Vanna?”

The maid, taken aback, hesitated before replying to the distinguished city governor, “Who’s Vanna?”

Instantly, Dante’s demeanor shifted dramatically. His face twisted in anger, exuding an icy and dark aura, as if a storm had suddenly formed in the room, chilling the air. After a tense few seconds, Dante managed to suppress his emotions, returning to a calmer state. He gently dismissed the maid with a wave, “Leave now. I don’t need any assistance.”

Sensing the tension, the bewildered maid quickly exited the dining hall, leaving Dante alone in the vast space. He remained motionless, as if frozen in time, burdened by over a decade’s worth of memories. Within his mind, memories intermingled with visions of an alternate reality, but Dante stayed stoic, whispering almost reverently, “Vanna is still alive… Vanna is still alive…”

His trance was shattered when he noticed another figure seated opposite him.

It was an eerie doppelganger of himself.

This otherworldly entity was a ghostly shade of white, wearing the same attire as Dante, mirroring his appearance down to the minutest detail, like the wrinkles on their hands. However, its face was slightly distorted, and its eyes were deep, hollow voids, devoid of any emotion or life.

Dante found himself locked in a silent, intense gaze with the gray, eerie doppelganger seated across from him. The look on this reflection’s face was a sardonic smirk as if mocking Dante from a place of deep knowledge and understanding.

The entity’s lips twisted as it said, “Ah, it seems there’s now a crack in the facade of your heart, my counterpart.”

Dante’s eyes blazed with intensity, transforming into a glare of accusation. “What have you done?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the room’s tension.

The gray figure shrugged with an air of faux innocence. “To be honest, even I didn’t see this coming. An unexpected anomaly seems to have self-corrected,” it mused. “But isn’t this what you wanted? Freedom from the burdens of truth, from the weight of future responsibilities? Everything is aligning as it should, promising eternal peace for us all. Just as your desires have been realized, so will everyone else’s.”

As it spoke, the reflection slowly rose from its seat, its lips stretching into an unsettling grin. “Remember, I am the mirror to your very soul.”

Matching its movements, Dante stood up, his hand instinctively reaching for the short dagger he always carried for unpredictable moments like this. The cold steel reassured him as he glared defiantly at the figure. “You are but an empty echo, a shadow,” he spat. “By what authority do you presume to understand the depths of human emotion?”

The doppelganger spread its arms wide in a gesture of mock surrender. “I am the manifestation of your innermost thoughts, given form by subspace. Subspace sees and knows all, especially the flawed and fickle nature of the human heart. Go on, end me if you will. We’ve danced this dance before. What’s one more time, especially if the end is near?”

But the creature’s taunts were abruptly interrupted. Dark green flames surged and enveloped its form, causing both the entity and Dante to gasp in shock. As the flames intensified, the entire room vibrated with the phantom’s agonized screams and a strange, eerie whistle. The shockwaves shattered every glass in the dining hall. Yet, none of this chaos seemed to penetrate beyond the room, as if they were trapped in a pocket dimension. As the entity struggled against its fiery chains, the room began to pulse with an eerie green light.

“The Vanished!” were the final words that escaped from Dante’s reflection before it was completely consumed.

Stunned, Dante could only watch, transfixed by the otherworldly spectacle. Just as suddenly, an agonizing pain shot through Dante’s body, a stark reminder of the consequences of seeing his own reflection destroyed.

The dagger slipped from Dante’s grip, clattering loudly onto the floor as he doubled over, overwhelmed by a searing heat that seemed intent on consuming his very essence. It felt as though his soul itself was being torn apart, and every fiber of his being screamed in agony. Remarkably, he remained conscious, his eyes wide with terror and confusion as they watched the flames dancing and swirling around him. To his astonishment, these flames did not consume him.

Dante’s mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. Instead of acting as a destructive force, the flames behaved more like a wild beast recoiling from its prey. It was as if the flames, which seemed to have a predatory nature, found something distasteful or repugnant about him.

Suddenly, a wave of intense dizziness and disorientation washed over him, as if a heavy weight was pressing down on his senses. The room around him began to blur, gradually dimming as the edges of his vision darkened. As he started to lose his grip on consciousness, the distant and panicked voice of a maid reached his ears, echoing through the haze. There was a flurry of movement and the sound of hurried footsteps echoing throughout the hall, but Dante was already slipping into the abyss of unconsciousness.

……

Realizing she had been ensnared in some twisted scheme, Vanna stood still in the silent archive, her senses on high alert for any sign of the priest. For several minutes, she remained completely motionless, resisting the urge to touch anything or flee from her location.

She understood the importance of not interacting with her surroundings immediately. Any impulsive action could ensnare her further into the illusion surrounding her.

Once she felt confident that the objects within her immediate sight weren’t deceptive in nature, she swiftly took protective mental measures. After ensuring her mind was shielded from possible external manipulations, she quickly moved to the back of the crescent-shaped table, where she pressed a concealed button without hesitation.

Immediately, a shrill and piercing alarm resonated throughout the archive.

Despite the cacophony, Vanna once again examined the lantern she held. The middle-aged priest might have vanished, but his lantern remained firmly in her grasp, emanating a comforting and protective glow. Its flame, fueled by grease, held sacred properties known to ward off malevolent forces.

Drawing courage from the lantern’s light, Vanna meticulously surveyed the expansive room. Apart from herself, the archive seemed devoid of any other presence. Her attention was drawn to the table, where she observed disarrayed items and unsettling bloodstains. Alarmingly, no one responded to the blaring alert.

Then it hit her. It wasn’t the priest who had disappeared; she was the one who had been transported elsewhere!

As this realization dawned on her, Vanna felt as if a shroud had been lifted from her perception. The archive around her dissolved, revealing an apocalyptic hellscape – an endless, fierce inferno raging in every direction.

Amidst the fiery chaos stood a gaunt figure clutching a black umbrella.

The stranger, his umbrella casting a minuscule shadow amidst the blazing landscape, raised a skeletal finger pointing at Vanna. His voice, raspy and strained, began to address her.

However, Vanna, filled with determination and fervor, cut him off. With her lantern still in one hand, she unsheathed her massive broadsword with the other and charged. Closing the distance between them with astonishing speed, she raised her weapon, her intent clear. She was merely three meters away when she roared her accusation at the umbrella-wielding figure.

“HERETIC!”

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