Chapter 38 “Offline”

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The body took a sharp, deep breath as though it was abruptly yanked from the brink of death back into the living world.

As the black-robed cultists assembled in the room looked on, a mix of confusion and wonder filled the air. Some didn’t fully comprehend that the man before them had just narrowly escaped death. The perilous moments had flashed by so quickly that only the most observant among them might have caught the signs. What they distinctly noticed was the sudden stabilization and strengthening of their comrade’s previously weak breaths, leaving them deeply astonished.

Suddenly, the man lying on the floor opened his eyes.

After being engulfed in darkness for what felt like an eternity, the dim glow from the oil lamps now seemed unbearably bright. He blinked repeatedly to adjust his vision before slowly focusing on the three black-robed figures standing close to him.

“Thanks to the Lord’s blessings!” exclaimed one of the younger cultists, his voice filled with relief and realization, “You’ve survived! I feared the worst…”

“Wait! Something’s not right! Back off!” commanded another cultist, his voice deep and urgent, sensing a discrepancy in the situation. He interrupted the burgeoning celebrations, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he took a cautious step away. “His breathing had completely ceased, I’m sure of it… Something is amiss here!”

Duncan, still sprawled on the ground, gradually became conscious of his surroundings. The ringing in his ears subsided, and he could now clearly see the figures around him. Confusion clouded his thoughts—why was he waking up here again, among these people, in this dreary sewer?

The spirit walking process he had engaged in was meant to be random, and he had chosen a target purely based on instinct. Yet, here he was again, awaking among these cultists. What rotten luck!

He quickly became aware of the peculiar reactions of those around him and then noticed the black robe he himself was wearing.

Duncan fell silent for a brief moment as realization hit him.

In the previous cycle, he had been the sacrificial victim offered up by these very cultists, and now, he found himself one of them—a cultist.

There was clearly a connection between him and these people.

“… Something is off!”

Suddenly, a low, menacing voice cut through the silence, intensifying Duncan’s post-awakening confusion. He followed the sound and locked eyes with an icy, vigilant stare.

This Translation is hosted on bcatranslation.com

The one who had issued the icy stare continued to watch him closely, while the other two cultists seemed to recover from their initial shock. They quickly assumed defensive stances, cautiously moving away from Duncan.

Caught off guard, Duncan realized with a jolt that he might once again be inhabiting a deceased body.

He was essentially masquerading as a corpse in front of these cultists!

The situation had become painfully clear, and the agitated behavior of the surrounding cultists now made perfect sense. Duncan’s thoughts raced as he struggled with the numbness and clumsiness of his new body, finding it hard to move without drawing suspicious glances. He needed a strategy to defuse the escalating tension.

While he pondered his options, a flood of vague memories washed over him.

These memories, unclear and fragmented, were not his own. They brought glimpses of hiding in sewers, sacrificing his family’s wealth to a supposed emissary of the sun, and engaging in dark, blood-soaked rituals aimed at curing diseases. These rituals involved consuming the lifeblood of innocent people in exchange for the “blessings of the sun”…

At the climax of these overwhelming memories, he vividly “remembered” a ritual sacrifice scene where numerous figures in black robes surrounded a raised platform. A young victim, his face etched with terror, was forced onto the platform, causing chaos to erupt among those gathered…

He “saw” the heart of the sun’s “emissary” being offered up, which triggered a frenzied massacre among the devotees. The air filled with furious roars and ghostly whispers as chaos unfolded around the altar. The original owner of the body he now occupied, along with a few other cultists, had fled the scene…

How long Duncan had been lost in these memories, he couldn’t say. The flood of strange memories began to ebb, leaving behind traces of a life both pitiful and horrific, fragments that settled in his heart like some sort of nourishment.

These were clearly the memories of the previous owner of the body—sparse but undeniable.

Noting this change in his experience, Duncan realized that this “spirit walking” journey was different from his last, where he had gained no memories from the body he inhabited. Previously, the mind of the “sacrificial victim” had been a blank slate. Why was it different now? Was it because the body was relatively “fresh,” or had Ai, the dove, enhanced the powers of the brass compass?

Slowly, Duncan stood up from the cold ground, fully aware that now was not the time for reflection. The cultists, sensing something unusual about his “resurrection,” grew even more tense.

As Duncan stood, the trio of cultists instinctively stepped back. The quiet was shattered by the deep-voiced cultist who, hand on his waist, demanded authoritatively, “Don’t make any sudden movements—state your name.”

“Ron… Ron Strelane,” Duncan responded, the name surfacing effortlessly from his newly acquired memories.

“The man’s name is Ron,” whispered the youngest-looking cultist to the deep-voiced individual across from him, who seemed to be the trio’s unofficial leader.

Despite the revelation, the leader, still cloaked in black, remained vigilant, his gaze locked on Duncan. He began to chant in a haunting rhythm, “In the name of the sun, may the Lord’s radiant light bathe us; in the name of the sun, may the Lord’s blessings rain upon us!”

Duncan was startled by the cultist’s sudden fervent chanting. As he stood there, puzzled, a growing warmth spread from his chest. Instinctively, he reached into his garments and pulled out a golden sun amulet, which was radiating an intense heat from its elaborately designed surface.

No sooner had he grasped the amulet than it burst into flames, swiftly transforming into a blazing inferno. The fire, as if possessing a will of its own, lunged directly towards Duncan’s heart!

“The Lord’s glory is consuming him!” exclaimed the chanting cultist, witnessing the spectacle. He swiftly drew his short sword, yelling, “His soul is corrupted! Slay this blasphemous creature!”

The other two cultists, initially a moment slower, quickly grasped the gravity of the situation. Believing Duncan to be a threat, they drew their swords and daggers without hesitation, their intentions deadly as they charged at him, shouting, “Kill him!”

As they advanced, Duncan gripped the flaming amulet. Suddenly, another figure appeared at the edge of his vision—a ghostly bird, shrouded in ethereal green flames, soared through the air, its tail trailing a haunting fire and emitting a strange, piercing screech as it flapped its wings, scattering invisible ashes and feathers.

The three cultists, momentarily distracted by the spectral bird, looked up to see Ai in its ghostly form. As they did, their movements dramatically slowed, as if their connection to reality had been distorted. They moved in jerky, fragmented motions, like figures in an old stop-motion film, eventually freezing entirely, just meters from Duncan.

Terror filled their eyes as they watched the spectral bird circle the ceiling before diving towards them. As they held their positions, the fire from the sun amulet in Duncan’s hand changed to an eerie green hue, mirroring the spectral flames of the bird.

Now engulfed in supernatural green flames, Duncan held the amulet tightly. The fire surged forward from the talisman, spiraling before him and then calming down, wrapping around his arm obediently, like a tame creature.

Holding the transformed sun amulet, now fully under his control, Duncan walked steadily toward the group of immobile cultists. He looked into their eyes, filled with terror, and felt an unexpected pang of regret. He couldn’t help but comment, “You would have been better off pretending you didn’t know anything.”

In an instant, the figures of the three cultists trembled violently in mid-air and then vanished without leaving any trace they had been there.

The spectral bird, enveloped in green flames and resembling a ghostly skeletal figure, quickly hopped onto Duncan’s shoulder in two swift moves. Amidst the sizzling and crackling of the engulfing flames, it emitted a harsh, rasping cry that seemed to say, “Oops, the page is gone, try refreshing?”

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