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Chapter 45 - Priest
The world around me was a desolate wasteland, a ring of charred earth where life once thrived. Everything on the circumference of the bear had been consumed by the ravenous flames, leaving behind a stark reminder of nature's fury. The air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and ash, a bitter perfume that clung to my lungs as I struggled to breathe. Yet, amid the devastation, I felt an odd sense of control; my fire bound to my will, a flickering ember of hope in the chaos.
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I raised my hand to my right eye, feeling the heat radiating from my skin. My fingers brushed against my bangs, slick with sweat and soot. I needed to stay conscious; I needed to remain anchored in this moment. The world around me swirled like a fever dream, colors bleeding into one another as the heat wrapped around me like a suffocating blanket.
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Suddenly, a violent shiver coursed through my spine, sharp and electric, as if a thousand icy fingers had gripped me all at once. My body was burning hot, yet I felt the cold creeping in—a paradox that sent waves of confusion crashing over me. My mind raced, struggling to grasp the reality of my situation. Was this the onset of a fever? I clenched my jaw, letting go of my eye as I pressed my palm into the scorched soil beneath me. The ground was still warm from the flames that had ravaged it, but it felt oddly grounding against my feverish skin.
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As I focused on the earth, another wave of shivers wracked my body. Each tremor felt like pins being plunged into my head; my own flesh revolting against me while my mind teetered on the edge of consciousness. The heat within me surged and receded like a tide—high one moment and dangerously low the next. My thoughts began to spiral, each one more fragmented than the last. Breathing became labored, each inhale a struggle as though the very air had thickened into a viscous fog. The relentless shivers continued their assault, and I could feel myself slipping away from reality. My vision blurred at the edges, darkening like an encroaching storm cloud.
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I don’t think I'll—
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The thought shattered like glass before I could finish it. The world tilted violently around me, colors swirling in a dizzying dance before fading into darkness. With one final gasp for breath that never came, I lost consciousness and collapsed onto the scorched earth—a silent witness to the aftermath of destruction that surrounded me.
*Blink*
*Blink*
*Blink*
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My eyes opened, but my vision remained unclear. I blinked several times, attempting to dispel the haze that enveloped me like a heavy fog. As my surroundings gradually came into focus, I discovered that I was lying on a hard mattress, the fabric rough against my skin. The bed was covered with a faded quilt, its colors muted and worn, with frayed edges that suggested years of neglect. The mattress sagged in the center, cradling my body in an uncomfortable embrace, and I felt the coolness of the room seeping through the thin sheets.
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As I pushed myself up on one elbow, the dim light filtering through a grimy window caught my attention. I was no longer clad in my horse riding attire; instead, I found myself dressed in a long, full-sleeved white nightgown that felt foreign against my skin.
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Dust motes danced lazily in the beams of light, illuminating the stark features of the room. The walls were lined with cracked stone, their surfaces rough and uneven, while remnants of peeling wallpaper clung stubbornly to the corners. A solitary wooden chair occupied one corner, its legs uneven and splintered as if it had been abandoned long ago. The air was thick with a musty scent—a blend of dampness and something earthy that made me wrinkle my nose in distaste.
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My gaze traveled to the far side of the room where an old wardrobe loomed, its doors slightly ajar as if inviting me to explore its secrets. As I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, I felt the coldness of the floor beneath me; it was composed of uneven stones that appeared to have been laid without care. My bare feet quickly grew numb from the chill. The floor tiles were so broken that it felt as though some of the stones could easily be dislodged.
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A single beam of sunlight broke through the grime on the window, casting a soft glow on the scattered dust and debris littering the floor. Beneath that window lay a large piece of glass surrounded by small mounds of sand. Scattered screws and nails also littered the ground.
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As I continued to run my hand along the dusty wall, just behind the window and still close to the bed, suddenly—the brown door swung open with a loud creak that made me flinch.
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"AHHHH!" screamed,
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the PRIEST.
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That damn Priest who greeted me at The Shrine of Hidden Springs Temple.
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As the Priest's scream echoed through the room, I felt a surge of emotions coursing through my veins. The sight of him—that same rotund clergyman who had greeted me at The Shrine of Hidden Springs Temple—ignited a peculiar mixture of contempt and intrigue within me.
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My countenance transformed into an expressionless mask, a visage so devoid of emotion that it belied the tumultuous thoughts swirling beneath. An overwhelming urge to bring this man to his senses, to assert dominance over him, consumed me. My mind, usually a bastion of control, now teetered on the precipice of chaos. The compulsion to witness this corpulent, aging man prostrate himself before me was almost unbearable.
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I turned my head deliberately, fixing my gaze upon the intricate wall trimmings of the room. My jaw clenched imperceptibly, teeth grinding silently as my lips pressed into a thin line. A heavy exhalation escaped me, laden with unspoken tension.
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As he approached, his pudgy hands seized my shoulders with unexpected vigor. "MY GODDESS!" he exclaimed, his voice reverberating mere inches from my face. My eyes, previously narrowed in contemplation, snapped open, locking onto his visage which was alight with childlike excitement. His stature, barely reaching my shoulders, and his corpulent frame only served to accentuate the absurdity of the situation.
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A conflagration ignited within my eyes, a primal desire to tear him asunder. Yet, I remained silent, true to my reputation—for I am known as one without a tongue.
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"MY MY MY GODDESS!" he repeated, his grip tightening as he shook me slightly. His eyes were wide, unblinking, his mouth agape in a grotesque approximation of a growl. He appeared as a ravenous beast, poised to devour its prey, his gaze boring into mine with unsettling intensity.
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A smile, slow and deliberate, crept across my features. My eyes widened to match his, piercing into the very depths of his soul. With calculated precision, I grasped his arms, crossing them before me in a swift, fluid motion.
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My smile never wavered, a stark contrast to the confusion now etched upon his face, his mouth still agape in bewilderment.
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I released his arms, allowing them to fall limply to his sides. As his gaze dropped, following the trajectory of his appendages, I seized the moment. In one fluid motion, I dropped to the ground, my fingers finding purchase on one of the large, cracked floor stones beside me. With a strength born of purpose and fueled by an inexplicable rage, I wrenched the stone free and with that-
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*THUD*
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The sound echoed in the dimly lit room as I brought the blunt edge of the stone crashing down on the priest’s head. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground with a sickening finality. The sharp gasp he let out faded into a wheezing groan, and I could feel the tremor in my hands as I crouched beside him.
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*THUMP*
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*THUMP*
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*THUMP*
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*THUMP*
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The stone struck his skull again and again, each blow heavier than the last. The priest’s screams rose in pitch, sharp cries of terror turning to choked whimpers before falling into a ragged, pitiful gurgle. Blood poured from the gaping splits in his forehead, tracing crimson rivers down his nose and cheeks. His eyes—oh, his eyes—stared wide and empty, as though the light had abandoned them mid-prayer.
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I let the stone slip from my hand and reached for the jagged glass shard from beneath the window. It felt warm against my palm, sticky with sweat and blood. My breath quickened as I leaned in, his shallow breaths brushing against my face.
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*STAB*
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His body jerked beneath me.
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*STAB*
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"No!" he gurgled, his voice drowning in blood.
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*STAB*
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*STAB*
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*STAB*
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The glass plunged into his throat, carving through flesh and sinew. He screamed, gargled, choked—and yet I didn’t stop. The sound of his agony filled the air, shrill and raw, a harmony to the rhythm of my strikes.
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*STAB*
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*STAB*
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*STAB*
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*STAB*
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*STAB*
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*STAB*
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*STAB*
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*STAB*
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*STAB*
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*STAB*
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His voice faded, but my hand kept moving, each thrust of the glass a punctuation to his silence. Thirty-two times I drove it in. Thirty-two times I watched his body convulse, twitch, then still. And then...nothing.
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I sat back, breathing hard, blood spattered across my arms, my face. A smile stretched across my lips.
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Standing, I stepped lightly to the window, still clutching the glass shard. Outside, the day was calm, indifferent. I bent down, retrieving the scattered nails from the base of the frame. They were cold, sharp points pressing into my skin. Perfect.
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Returning to the priest’s body, I knelt beside him. His head lolled to one side, mouth agape, frozen mid-cry. I set the glass shard aside and picked up the stone once more. The nails glinted in the dim light as I pressed one against his bloodied forehead.
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*THUMP*
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The first nail sank in, cracking the bone slightly as it pierced the flesh. My heart pounded, but I didn’t stop.
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*THUMP*
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He screamed in my head now, even though his lips were still.
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*THUMP*
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*THUMP*
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*THUMP*
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I drove the nail deeper, grinning as the sound reverberated through the room.
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*THUMP*
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*THUMP*
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*THUMP*
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*THUMP*
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*THUMP*
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Nine nails in total. Nine iron teeth hammered into his skull, sealing him to his fate. My hands were steady as I set the stone aside. Blood pooled beneath him, spreading outward like a halo. I leaned back, gazing at my work.
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He was beautiful now.
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I smiled again.
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I shook my head slightly, the motion almost imperceptible, as the weight of my ritual settled upon me. A hollow breath escaped my lips, and I recalled my custom—an offering made not in reverence, but in finality.
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With deliberate grace, I clasped my hands together, their warmth slick with the remnants of my work. My lips curled into a soft, unhurried smile, one that betrayed neither guilt nor doubt. Bowing my head, I whispered, "May God Bless your Demise. In your next life, please attempt to become a better Priest."
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A plea offered to a God he had forsaken, a God he did not obey. And yet, as the words spilled from my tongue, they rang with an eerie sincerity, echoing through the stillness of the room.
*Clap*
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*Clap*
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*Clap*
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"HAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAAA!" The sound of laughter echoed through the air, a hearty and infectious mirth that made me tilt my head slightly to the right, instantly recognizing the voice. It was none other than—
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Cillian De Valentine Eriko Elmir.
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He leaned back against the window, his presence commanding and vibrant. His attire was striking: a layered ensemble featuring a crisp white shirt with a high collar adorned with black buttons, overlaid by a blue vest-like garment decorated with intricate white patterns. The vest boasted an asymmetrical cut, one side cascading into a long, flowing scarf-like piece embellished with swirling white designs and tassels at the ends. The sleeves of the shirt peeked out from beneath the vest, the cuffs elegantly tied with small white bows.
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His pants were black and fitted, uniquely designed with white crisscross lacing running down one leg and subtle patterns woven throughout. A sleek black belt cinched his waist, its silver buckle glinting in the light. On his feet were white shoes accented with blue, perfectly complementing his overall color scheme.
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I straightened up.
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"DANG MAN! Even in a godforsaken place like this, you had the guts to take him out?" he exclaimed, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he approached me. "Now that... is savage." He leaned in close to my left ear, grabbing both my shoulders and resting his chin upon them, his grip firm yet oddly reassuring.
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With my bloody right hand, I seized his left wrist and twisted out of his grasp, my expression unreadable as I locked eyes with him—his aquamarine gaze piercing through me.
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His eyes widened slightly, while his expression remained composed, as if he were witnessing something unexpected.
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"My—" I whispered.
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In response, he gently tapped his forehead against mine.
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The brief contact compelled me to meet his gaze for just a moment before I looked down at the floor, feeling drained of energy.
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"Sapphire Necklace," I murmured again, still holding onto his wrist.
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"Hmmm..." he hummed thoughtfully before straightening up and turning his attention to the bed.
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I followed his gaze to the bed as well. Suddenly, he turned back to our entwined hands, bringing them before our faces while glaring into my eyes. My eyes widened in surprise as I released my grip on him. Just as my hand fell away, he brought that same hand close to my face and covered my eyes with it.
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Then in a second, he removed his hand from my face. "There ya go," he said nonchalantly, shutting his eyes for effect before turning back to the window.
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Glancing down at my chest—my necklace! A smile crept across my face as I stared at it.
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"So, how'd you get here?" he asked casually while pressing his right hand against the glass of the window and gazing outside with an icy demeanor.
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I tilted my head to the left in confusion about what he meant.
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He glanced back at me and urged, "Take a look for yourself."
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Concern piqued, I stepped closer and peered out into the distance. My eyes widened in astonishment at what lay before me.
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"Where the hell are we?" I inquired, my gaze fixed on the surreal landscape stretching out before us.
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"How am I supposed to know?" Cillian retorted, his tone nonchalant. He moved away from the window with fluid grace, approaching the lifeless body on the floor. As he extended his hand towards the corpse, an otherworldly phenomenon began to unfold.
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Before our very eyes, the Priest's body underwent a startling transformation. It crumbled and disintegrated, turning into a fine, obsidian-like ash. The dark particles began to defy gravity, slowly rising into the air as if guided by an invisible force. The ashes continued their ascent, gradually fading from sight until no trace of the body remained.
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This dude's lucky. Demonic power is really something to envy. I mused, redirecting my attention back to the enigmatic landscape before us.
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Exhaling deeply, I shook my head, resigning myself to the labyrinthine nature of this man who seemed unlikely to ever provide a straightforward answer. "Cleal," I uttered, my gaze still fixed on the view beyond the window.
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At the sound of his name, he swiftly turned his attention to me, his eyes locking onto my form.
To be Continued...
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