Chapter 21: “Announcement, The Ritual Went Smoothly”
As the resonant prayers of the cult’s high priest reached his ears, Duncan abruptly halted his efforts to sever his soul projection and return to the Vanished.
He fixed his eyes on the high priest, who had just concluded his fervent invocations, his hand raising a deep black dagger into the air. The surrounding devotees erupted in a unified chant, calling upon their “deity”—their distorted remembrance of the long-forgotten “true Black Sun.”
They planned to sacrifice Duncan to the Black Sun, intending to offer his heart as the supreme tribute.
This insight cleared Duncan’s understanding as he began to comprehend the terrifying scene he had previously witnessed in the cave, recognizing the madness and malevolence of the cult members.
He then watched the masked high priest approach him, the black flames on the dark dagger’s surface flickering menacingly.
This remarkable supernatural spectacle piqued Duncan’s curiosity. He pondered whether the dagger was some type of “anomalous” artifact, whether the high priest possessed supernatural powers, and how many such uniquely gifted individuals existed within this world’s civilized society, along with their potential roles.
Maintaining a neutral expression, he observed the dark flame-covered dagger pierce his chest, making a subdued sound as it tore through his ragged clothes.
The flames persisted briefly inside him, but beyond that, nothing else happened.
Behind him, the fireball that had been burning on the totem pole suddenly burst into a series of unsettling, crackling explosions. Amid the chaos, a disorienting, tearing noise seemed to emanate from the fireball. Duncan faintly sensed something icy and wild being unleashed—an indescribable “sensation.” He struggled to articulate this feeling, partly because the borrowed body’s senses were numbed, and partly because this sensation surpassed any of his previous experiences. One thing was certain—the high priest’s ritualistic sacrifice had undoubtedly triggered significant turmoil in this realm filled with tangible supernatural phenomena.
The instant transformation of the “sun symbol” on the totem pole captured the attention of the nearby worshippers. After a few muffled gasps, the previously charged atmosphere quickly dissipated. Even the two hooded figures who had been firmly holding Duncan’s arms released their grip in fear and knelt in reverence before the totem pole. The high priest, still holding the obsidian dagger, froze in place, his hand clenched around the blade. Yet, his gaze remained fixed on the face of the “sacrifice” before him. Through the slits in his mask, Duncan could see eyes now filled with confusion and turmoil.
Straining, Duncan forced the corners of his mouth into an odd smile. Laboriously, he lifted his right hand and placed it over the high priest’s outstretched hand, which was tightly grasping the obsidian dagger. From his palm, tendrils of ethereal green flame began to flow, spilling over the blade like water over a brook, eventually enveloping the entire weapon in a ghostly aura.
In that moment, Duncan felt a peculiar reaction from the dagger. It seemed like he was holding a poorly made replica, a hollow imitation of a real weapon. The sensation was frail and insubstantial; the weapon appeared to possess just a hint of “borrowed power,” reminiscent of a trickle of water in an otherwise dry riverbed.
Nevertheless, Duncan remained unfazed. The authenticity of the dagger was of little importance to him.
With a wolfish grin, he casually addressed the high priest, “I have a pair of remarks to make.”
Suddenly, the high priest experienced a disturbing disruption in the mystical bond between him and the obsidian dagger. His unwavering faith in the power bestowed by the Black Sun hit an impenetrable barrier and was abruptly severed.
“Firstly,” Duncan stated, “I am an individual of expansive tolerance—as evidenced by my broad personality.”
Without any formality, Duncan tore off the last remnant of his once majestic attire, already badly torn by the dagger. The large hole exposed was daunting, giving the high priest, who was leading the ritual, a clear view of the scene unfolding behind Duncan.
“Secondly,” he continued, “I’d recommend refraining from offering your Lord stale leftovers.”
With a dismissive gesture, Duncan pushed away the hand of the high priest. Interestingly, after his green flames had covered the obsidian dagger, the high priest seemed to lose a significant amount of his earlier strength. This left him so weakened that Duncan, despite his own weakened state, easily pushed him aside.
Taken aback by the sudden shove, the high priest was jolted back to reality, a mix of fear and anger overwhelming him. His muscles trembled as he pointed an accusing finger at Duncan, summoning all his strength to shout in a bid to regain control over the chaotic ritual. “Accursed undead! A reanimated corpse! You desecrate this sacred ritual! Wretched… who is the audacious necromancer controlling you?! Do you not fear the sun’s holy power?!”
“I fail to understand your accusations,” Duncan replied, glancing casually at the obsidian dagger in his hand, feeling the faint echo of power still resonating in his palm. He then shifted his gaze to the high priest, tuning into the faint crackling noise coming from the totem pole behind him. A daring, mischievous thought began to form in his mind, “However, I do find myself suddenly inclined to indulge my curiosity.”
With a dramatic gesture, Duncan raised the obsidian dagger, capturing the attention of the surrounding black-robed worshippers, who watched in stunned silence and growing terror. Pointing at the masked high priest, his voice thundered across the ceremonial platform, “O mighty and holy Black Sun! Please accept this offering upon your altar! I present to you the heart of this sacrifice, and may you return it from the depths of blood and fire!”
At that moment, a powerful surge of flame burst from the obsidian dagger. Simultaneously, the chilling aura emanating from the totem pole behind him receded, its spectral arrow pointing directly at the high priest. Duncan watched as the high priest’s eyes widened in terror, his body tensing as if ready to flee the ceremonial platform. However, the dagger was quicker.
Propelled by an unseen force, the dagger shot from Duncan’s hand like a comet, blazing with black and subtly swirling green flames. It struck the high priest directly in the chest, eliciting a horrific scream from him. Within moments, the cult leader’s heart was impaled and incinerated into ashes.
Almost immediately, the dagger returned to Duncan’s grip, having seemingly expended all its residual power during its brief flight.
At the cult’s sacrificial altar stood two individuals: one with a heart, the other without. On this day, a certain malevolent deity had developed a craving for a human heart and posed the question—who would lose theirs?
It was inevitably the one who still possessed a heart.
The simplicity of the logic did not prepare Duncan for the seamless unfolding of the event. He had not expected his whimsical “experiment” to yield such a dramatic outcome. Only when he saw the lifeless body of the high priest collapse did he turn to the undisturbed totem behind him, his voice echoing with a note of surprise, “So, as long as the phrasing is appropriate, the sacrifice can be anyone?”
As he expected, the flaming orb atop the totem pole offered no response to his musings. However, the cultists around the altar quickly recovered from their initial shock. Chaos ensued, yet a surge of fanatical fervor soon overtook the initial fear sparked by the totem’s odd behavior.
The cultists nearest the altar were the first to compose themselves. Shouting in the name of the Black Sun, they charged at Duncan. Their bold move inspired others, rallying more black-robed figures to join their frenzied assault. As if possessed, they surged forward, some drawing concealed short swords and daggers from beneath their robes.
Duncan had initially planned to declare, “I offer the hearts of everyone on the altar to the Black Sun,” to test the deity’s appetite. However, upon seeing some cultists draw revolvers from their pockets, he quickly abandoned the idea. Considering the time it would take for the sacrificial ritual to take effect and the rule of “being precise and swift within seven steps,” he simply flipped off the cultists and severed his soul projection.
Let these fanatics continue their madness. He was returning to the Vanished.
Meanwhile, on the vast and Boundless Sea, rhythmic footsteps resounded on the deck of the Vanished.
Alice, the doll dressed in a magnificent Gothic gown, left her room and made her way to the captain’s quarters.
This time, the beautiful wooden box that usually followed Miss Doll was left in the room.
The captain had informed her that she was free to move about the cabins on the lower deck or walk on the deck, and if she had any questions, she was to come directly to the captain’s quarters.
Alice remembered this clearly.
Pretty good out-of-body experience for our MC as a starter. Thanks for the chapter!
LOM vibes, I love it!
Damn, he trolled them hard???
why does this guy talk like an edgy teenager,
In this case I would assume because he knows that he can leave at anytime. So he became a keyboard warrior.
Jfc the chapters are so, so short
Alice about to do some night crawling heh