Chapter 77 “Thoughts On The Fire”

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A thunderous explosion reverberated through the basement as a fireball burst into existence and soared from one of the dim corners. However, Duncan had already sensed that something was amiss before the flaming projectile could get close to him.

Without pausing to think, Duncan’s instincts took over. He raised his hand in a defensive gesture, bracing for impact. A brief, scalding sensation tingled at his fingertips. In the next heartbeat, a blast of ethereal, spiritual fire erupted from his palm, counteracting the incoming fireball in a spectacular recoil explosion. It seemed as though Duncan had plucked the fiery projectile right out of the air. The once-raging flame now morphed into a spectral green hue, its explosive potential subdued. It began to burn calmly, almost reverently in his open hand.

Gripping the now-tamed, spectral green fireball, Duncan pivoted slowly, directing his gaze towards the source of the initial attack. As he did so, the shadowy canine figure known as “Dog” took the opportunity of this distraction. Suddenly, a fissure materialized at Dog’s landing spot, filled with swirling shadows and tendrils of black fog. Without a moment’s hesitation, Dog leaped into it with Shirley being dragged into the void with him. And just before disappearing into the fissure, Shirley forcefully spat to one side, expelling several blood-stained bullets onto the ground.

In the blink of an eye, both the mysterious girl and the dark hound had disappeared, leaving Duncan alone in the basement with whoever was responsible for the sneak attack.

Frustration simmered within Duncan. His eyes returned to the origin point of the fireball, finding a figure dressed as a sun priest, his face hidden behind a golden mask, leaning precariously against a wall. The man’s arm was raised, but he was clearly struggling to keep it aloft. Astonishment radiated from him, evident even behind the mask. He seemed utterly disoriented that his carefully summoned fireball had not only been intercepted but also commandeered.

“Leaving without finishing the job isn’t a good habit,” Duncan muttered while walking deliberately toward the grievously wounded cult priest. As he moved, the ambient lighting in the basement underwent a transformation. Oil lamps and torches lining the walls flickered and changed, their flames taking on the same eerie, spectral green hue. Approaching under this unsettling illumination, Duncan could sense the sun priest’s growing terror—a fear more intense than anything he had felt before.

The sun priest felt his divine connection to the sun god rapidly diminishing. As Duncan approached and each lamp was transformed into that spectral green hue, he felt as if the benevolent gaze of the sun god was retreating from his soul, melting away like snow under the first warm rays of spring.

Consumed by a terror he had never known, the priest spoke from behind the golden mask, his voice quaking. “You… you’re no ordinary heretic. What exactly are you?”

The last of the oil lamps flickered and changed, its flame turning an eerie, spectral green. Duncan halted directly in front of the priest and lowered his head slightly to make eye contact. Illuminated by the otherworldly green light, his face looked particularly menacing. “You interrupted me while I was asking questions. That’s quite impolite. Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”

As he spoke, Duncan assessed the priest’s physical state. Shirley had indeed inflicted devastating damage. The priest’s chest was horribly caved in, broken ribs likely piercing both his heart and lungs—an almost certainly fatal wound. The only reason he was still clinging to life was likely due to some mysterious, potent force—perhaps the very essence of what these cultists called the “Sun God.”

Yet, Duncan could clearly see that life was ebbing quickly from the priest. Each of his breaths was growing shallower; death was imminently near. And for some reason that Duncan couldn’t fathom, it was evident that the blessings of the Sun God were rapidly leaving this wretched figure.

“It seems the blessings of the Sun God aren’t as steadfast as one might hope,” Duncan mused, shaking his head. “Your god has abandoned you.”

Though he spoke casually, his words seemed to light a fuse in the dying priest. Mustering a final surge of strength and rage, the priest pulled a bloody strip of cloth from his sleeve.

“I offer this body to my Lord! May the Holy Shroud cleanse the heretic before me!”

His golden mask was smeared with dark blood and bits of tissue, but he triumphantly held aloft the “Holy Shroud,” intending to make the ultimate, fanatical sacrifice. He was willing to give up his own life to activate the relic’s latent power, aiming to take Duncan down with him.

Duncan, however, watched this dramatic display with detached interest. Though initially startled when the priest produced something from his sleeve, his concern evaporated when he recognized the object. It was the same strip of cloth that had been used to confirm his “brotherhood” upon entering this bizarre gathering. What he hadn’t expected was for the cloth to be referred to so grandiosely as the “Holy Shroud.”

And just as Duncan had suspected, the so-called Holy Shroud remained inert. No miracles were triggered by the priest’s desperate, final act of devotion.

Bewilderment flickered in the eyes behind the golden sun mask. The cult priest was teetering on the edge of life and death, aghast that the sacred object in his hand remained lifeless. He coughed up another gory mouthful of blood, muttering incredulously, “I offer this body to my Lord…”

“Is this what you had in mind?” Duncan asked, unable to contain his exasperation. He shook his head and gestured toward the bloody piece of cloth.

In the next instant, a torrent of spectral green flames burst forth.

The spiritual flame not only ignited the so-called Holy Shroud but also consumed the cult priest’s blood and flesh. Amidst the scorching spiritual fire, the priest screamed in abject horror, “No, no… this isn’t how it should be… the Lord won’t forsake me… the Lord will punish you… who are you?!”

As the flames roared, the voice of the cult priest weakened, fading into an eerie silence. Whatever supernatural force that propped up his life could not withstand the spirit flame’s direct assault on his soul. Or perhaps it was the very existence of this mystical force that catalyzed his rapid incineration.

Gradually, the spiritual flames died down, leaving behind only ashes where the sun priest had leaned against the wall. His clothes and his golden sun mask lay in a sad heap, untouched by the flames.

Even the so-called “Holy Shroud” had disintegrated, reduced to mere ash, having served as a conduit for the spiritual fire.

Duncan furrowed his brow, contemplative.

Truth be told, this wasn’t his first encounter with death. Previous experiences with the “offerings” and another priest in an underground cave had already steeled his nerves. Yet, he found himself slightly taken aback now.

In his previous observations, his spiritual flames had selectively targeted only supernatural objects. Through tests conducted on items from the Vanished, he knew that any supernatural object incinerated by the flame would be “usurped” and essentially become his property. However, mundane objects, like an ordinary piece of paper, remained unaffected by the spirit flames.

This time, the flame had actively burned, a response he had intentionally triggered. Concerned that the cult priest might unleash something dreadful via the Holy Shroud, Duncan had cautiously commanded the cloth to self-destruct. As it turned out, the Holy Shroud complied flawlessly.

What he hadn’t anticipated was that the expanding flames would also consume the cult priest, reducing him to ashes. This outcome was at odds with the conclusions he’d drawn from his earlier experiments. While it made sense for the Holy Shroud to be destroyed, being a supernatural object susceptible to the spiritual flame, the total incineration of the priest posed a puzzling inconsistency.

It made perfect sense that the cult priest’s clothes had survived the blaze unscathed. After all, they were just ordinary, mundane garments, and Duncan’s spiritual flame had a unique characteristic: it existed in a sort of parallel reality to everyday objects, interacting with them as though they were ghosts—meaning, not at all. The flame would only have an impact if the clothing were imbued with enchantments or crafted from some sort of supernatural material.

Similarly, the golden sun mask had also emerged from the inferno unharmed. Duncan had a particular interest in this artifact, which clearly exuded supernatural properties. The moment he unleashed his spectral green flames, he’d mentally commanded them to bypass the mask, sparing it from any damage.

So, the enigma that presented itself now was straightforward yet perplexing: Why had the cult priest, a human being, been reduced to ash by the spirit flame?

With a look of puzzled concentration, Duncan squatted down to closely inspect the greyish-black residue. It was eerily similar to the ashes of the incinerated Holy Shroud.

He had never subjected a living being to his spiritual flames before—certainly never with the intent of causing harm, let alone taking a life. This cult priest, it seemed, was likely the first to fall victim to Duncan’s fire.

Or, at least, the first victim over whom he had exerted conscious control.

A bold hypothesis began to form in Duncan’s mind, pushing its way through the cloud of his confusion. Could it be possible that individuals who had received “blessings” from a deity—due to their devout worship or some other form of ritualistic allegiance—could themselves be considered “supernatural objects”?

The thought was unsettling yet fascinating, forcing Duncan to reevaluate the scope and potential ramifications of his spiritual flame. It hinted at a darker, more complicated reality where the boundary between the mundane and the supernatural was far less distinct than he had initially believed.

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