Chapter 72 “The Information From The Meeting”

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With an unbiased perspective, it was clear to see that these members of the religious sect were remarkably thorough in their approach.

Duncan’s immediate acceptance within the group was not a straightforward process. His possession of the sun amulet did not instantly persuade them of his credibility, and they weren’t quick to believe his recounts of the incidents at the underground sacrificial location either. They were far from lax in their judgment — they assessed his every action, dissected his words, and even when they arrived at their meeting place, they took an extra step to validate his authenticity. They were being extraordinarily prudent, even for a secretive cult that was evading capture.

However, their methods of discernment relied heavily on the assumption that Duncan was a standard human being.

Such methods were completely futile against someone like Duncan, who held the title of captain within the enigmatic group known as the Vanished.

The lean, commanding figure of the group took the unassuming piece of fabric from Duncan’s hand, seemingly unaware of any potential changes in the inherent power of the relic. After acknowledging the new member, he gestured towards a vacant spot in the meeting area, saying, “You can settle there for the moment, brother. You’re not the only fresh face here.”

In compliance, Duncan nodded and began to move towards the designated spot. All the while, he made sure to take mental notes of every individual that made up the assembly.

To his astonishment, the adherents he saw here differed significantly from the ones he had encountered at the sacrificial sewer site. Unlike the typical black robes of the Suntists, these individuals were dressed like ordinary citizens. Their faces were fully exposed without the shadow of hoods to hide their identities.

Driven by curiosity, he queried a nearby follower, “Is it customary to reveal one’s face in such gatherings?”

The queried disciple seemed taken aback, asking, “Do the believers in Pland always cover their faces during their meetings?”

A slight frown creased Duncan’s brow, “You’re not from Pland…”

“We’re from Lansa,” another follower chimed in. Having confirmed that the stranger was indeed a fellow believer, the Suntists appeared more relaxed. “We arrived here last week. Before we could even make contact with the local believers, the attack occurred…”

“All of you here… you’re from Lansa?” Duncan was mildly surprised. This revelation explained why there were still so many Suntists in the city, despite the destruction of the sewer sacrificial site.

“Yes, all the believers present here are from Lansa, but we do have groups from other city-states that have sought refuge in various hiding places,” another follower added. “We’re all aware of what has been happening in Pland. For the last four years, that damned governor and the church’s sycophants have been trying to squash our movement… You all must have faced challenges as well. But, fortunately, those times are now behind us.”

Duncan responded with an ambiguous nod, only to be questioned by the first believer he had spoken to, “That dove perched on your shoulder is rather… unusual.”

At that comment, Duncan’s eyes betrayed a flicker of discomfort.

Duncan was aware that he was not the only one intrigued by the presence of the dove perched on his shoulder.

A dove, in itself, was not an unusual sight. However, attending a cultist gathering with a dove calmly sitting on one’s shoulder was undoubtedly an odd sight.

With nonchalance, he dismissed the comment about the bird, saying, “It’s my pet, adept at assisting me in a variety of ways.”

While engaging in casual conversation, Duncan’s mind was busily processing the confirmation of his earlier speculation:

The significant influx of Suntists into Pland indicated that these usually discreet cultists, the same ones who recently orchestrated the conspicuous event in the sewers, were indeed planning something on a larger scale.

His tactic of slipping silently into the situation like a stealthy fish had led him precisely to the truth!

Simultaneously, he was beginning to comprehend why the cultists attending the gathering had chosen not to mask their identities, instead opting to blend in as ordinary citizens.

In the sewer environment, the Suntists had veiled their identities, adhering to a system of communication that limited interaction among lower-ranking members. This was their strategy to counteract the church’s frequent purges and to prevent key information from being exposed in the event of betrayals or arrests within their ranks. It was a necessary tactic for the local Suntists living under such pressurized circumstances. However, these newcomers from various city-states didn’t seem to have the same experience — they were simple cultists, not highly trained special forces.

Moreover, they didn’t see a need to conceal their identities: the attendees gathered here were all “old friends” who had migrated from the same city-state. They were well acquainted with each other, rendering any disguise pointless during the assembly.

Their current guise as common citizens could actually aid in a quick getaway. Should their hideouts be discovered, they could easily blend into the populace of the lower city district, an area lacking a stringent administrative system.

As Duncan contemplated these thoughts, his gaze swept across the gathering. Abruptly, he felt an intense stare fixated on him.

Trusting his instincts, he swiveled around to identify the source of the intense gaze, finding a petite girl with black hair cropped short.

She was dressed in a black dress embellished with white lace. Her appearance was refined and modest, and she looked to be about the same age as Nina. However, what caught his attention was a deep red choker encircling her neck, from which dangled a tiny silver bell — an accessory that, despite its charm, seemed oddly out of place.

As Duncan’s gaze met hers, she effortlessly diverted her eyes elsewhere — her shift in focus was subtle, but Duncan was absolutely certain that the previous intense gaze had belonged to this young maiden!

Why would such a young girl be among this congregation of cultists?

The question sprung up in Duncan’s mind as he observed the child’s attire again… For some inexplicable reason, there seemed to be a stark dissonance between the girl and her current environment.

As he was lost in his musings, the sudden creaking sound of a door hinge snapped him back to the present. The lean cult leader ordered the closing of the basement door and then proceeded towards the center of the gathering, drawing every pair of eyes in the room towards him.

Duncan understood the congregation was starting. He immediately set his thoughts aside, concentrating on the evolving scenario before him. He observed the lanky figure confidently stepping into the limelight, a mysterious smile flickering on the man’s lips. Then from the depths of his robes, he produced an object, lifting it high for all to witness.

It was a pale golden sun mask — a carbon copy of the one donned by the Sun priest who had officiated the ritual at the underground gathering.

“Honor the grandeur of our Lord, speak the truth under His watch,” the lean man proclaimed, his voice saturated with profound reverence. “Bow before this sanctified mask, may the protection of the Sun’s offspring be imbued within, guiding me in leading the brothers and sisters gathered here.”

The surrounding cultists began chanting the sacred name of the Dark Sun in harmony. Then they bowed, pressing their fists to their foreheads in a gesture of respect. Surprisingly, their reverential actions were not focused on the slim man standing at the gathering’s heart, but instead, the golden mask. It was as if the mask was the tangible manifestation of a divine entity, and the man wielding it was merely an instrument.

In his attempt to blend in with the crowd, Duncan mirrored their actions. However, he was oblivious to the so-called sacred words, so he resorted to murmuring multiplication tables under his breath. All the while, he meticulously studied the cultists’ behavior, trying to decipher the significance behind their ritualistic actions.

The tall, lean figure solemnly adorned the mask on his face.

Almost immediately, Duncan sensed… an alteration in the man.

He struggled to define this sensation. It was as though the man had adopted an entirely new persona the instant he wore the mask as if an extra shadow had sprung from his form. Fixing his gaze on the sun-resembling golden mask, Duncan saw its engraved lines seemingly shifting. At that moment, the mask seemed to come alive as if a distant and potent consciousness had projected a minute fragment of its power onto the mask, imbuing an otherwise ordinary object with an ethereal aura.

The simple act of donning the mask, accompanied by a short ceremonial ritual, had turned an ordinary man into an avatar of divine authority.

The cultists surrounding him started chanting together: “May the splendor of our Lord endure forever! May the path of our Lord manifest upon this world!”

Duncan was deep into the six-digit multiplication table when his mind abruptly flashed back.

He had observed a priest wearing a golden mask at the sewer assembly before. But the priest had already completed the “donning” process by the time Duncan arrived, and considering his unfamiliar surroundings and the limitations of his temporary body, he hadn’t given much thought to the peculiarities of the seemingly ordinary golden mask, nor had he questioned why the believers referred to the priest wearing the mask as the “emissary.”

Now it appeared… this so-called Sun mask might possibly be the “communication device” used by the “higher offspring of the Sun,” who lingered on the fringes of civilization, to control their followers and observe the world remotely. Or, more accurately, a type of psychic projection apparatus?

Suddenly realizing the potential significance of the item, Duncan’s gaze subtly shifted as he scrutinized the golden mask.

This small relic… might just be destined for him.

For those that just want to support me, you can follow the link to paypal donating. Sadly you won’t be able to get the benefit of reading ahead 

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