When the pigeon spoke, its tone and content were as ridiculous and silly as ever.
However, now it had transformed into a ghostly bird engulfed in flames, with a half-transparent body revealing fiery bones and tendons. Its cries mixed with the sounds of explosions, like the wails of lost souls escaping from the gates of the underworld.
It turned out that sometimes, the line between the absurd and the sinister isn’t that clear.
Duncan watched as three cultists vanished before his eyes, unable to grasp how it happened. All he knew was that this was the ability of “Ayi.”
After a few seconds, realizing the three cultists were truly gone, he tilted his head slightly and asked the pigeon on his shoulder, “...Where did you send them?”
Ayi flapped its wings and began preening its now semi-transparent feathers. After a moment, it suddenly exclaimed, “Returned to the shadows!”
Duncan frowned. He had started to understand the true meaning behind Ayi’s words. “...You mean you banished them to some kind of... parallel space? Or made them into something untouchable?”
The pigeon looked up, its eyes darting around as it gazed at Duncan. “Coo!”
Now it was pretending to be a real pigeon again.
But Duncan believed he understood the truth. He gently tapped Ayi on the head and then surveyed the dimly lit “sanctuary” around him.
In the flickering light of the oil lamp, everything in the small room was clear. The followers of the Sun God who once hid here had completely vanished from this world. Now, standing here was only a ghostly captain who had taken over a cultist’s body, along with his pigeon.
Yet, deep down, Duncan felt something—he sensed that the three cultists were still nearby, trapped in this room, stuck in a dimension that couldn’t be perceived or touched by any means.
He could almost “feel” them shouting in vain, struggling, wanting to reconnect with the real world, but being forever blocked by an invisible barrier, lost in despair.
This feeling lingered until, at one moment, Duncan saw evidence: during one flicker of the oil lamp, in a perfect play of shadows and light, he suddenly noticed a mark on the nearby wall. It looked like a deep cut made by a short sword. But when he looked again, the flame flickered, and the mark vanished without a trace.
That was the last contact the three Sun followers had with the real world.
Duncan let out a soft breath and turned to leave the room with Ayi.
Outside the abandoned lounge was a narrow corridor, much smaller than the sewer corridor he had seen before. The deep, long passage stretched out on both sides, one end leading to a fork in the road, and the other leading to an upward-sloping ramp.
Even in this abandoned area, the city’s managers had clearly maintained the most basic upkeep of these underground facilities—at least the gas lamps on both sides of the passage were still lit.
Duncan quickly assessed the direction of the passage and pieced together a route to the surface from the fragments of memories in his mind. Soon, he stepped toward the upward slope.
He walked faster and faster.
A fresh breeze began to flow, the cool wind tousling Duncan’s hair. He heard some distant, muffled sounds, like factories operating through the night, and the even more distant sound of waves crashing against the shore... the sound of waves lapping against the rocky coast at night.
Duncan almost broke into a run.
Ayi, now back to its normal self without the ghostly flames, flapped its wings on his shoulder, making joyful sounds. “The age calls! The age calls!”
Duncan suddenly stopped, staring into the pigeon’s eyes. “Don’t speak out here—normal pigeons don’t talk.”
Ayi thought for a moment and flapped its wings vigorously. “Aye, captain!”
Duncan was taken aback. The pigeon had actually responded correctly this time. He didn’t know if it was a coincidence or not—but soon, he stopped thinking about it.
He needed to prepare himself for the world outside.
He definitely couldn’t wear the black robe outside. From the memories he had absorbed, this suspicious robe was only used in secret rituals of the Sun God’s followers. Wearing it on the streets of the city would get him tied to a tree and beaten by several security officers.
The city of Pland had a strict curfew, and wandering at night seemed quite dangerous. Ordinary people needed a pass and prior notice to go out at night—this cultist he had taken over clearly didn’t have those legal documents, so he had to avoid the night patrols to move around the city.
The night watchmen, known as “Guardians,” seemed to be armed forces under the Deep Sea Church. From the memories he inherited, the original owner of this body had a deep fear and hostility toward those armed priests...
Duncan quickly organized the fragments of memories in his mind. Since he inherited them from a corpse, they were mostly chaotic and blurry. He couldn’t piece together a complete life path of a “member of modern civilization,” nor could he gather all the information about Pland. But even the most basic parts were enough to give him some idea for his upcoming actions.
He first took off the black robe before reaching the slope to the surface—underneath, he wore normal clothes that wouldn’t raise suspicion.
He considered burning the black robe, but fire and smoke might attract the attention of the night patrols, so he ultimately just rolled it up and hid it in a corner near the slope.
The sun amulet could also cause trouble, but it might contain valuable information. After some hesitation, Duncan decided to take it with him—when he returned to the Lost Home, he could test it to see if Ayi could bring it back too.
He could study it safely on the Lost Home.
After hiding the black robe, he tidied up his appearance, trying to look like an ordinary citizen rather than a cultist hiding in the sewers. Once he finished all this, he stepped onto the slope.
The path ahead wasn’t too far.
Duncan hurried up the slope, the increasingly fresh air filling his lungs. He could clearly hear the sounds of factories and waves in the distance, and within a few minutes, he even saw a cold light shining on the steps ahead.
He hurried forward, and that cold light finally enveloped him completely.
He had reached the surface.
Solid, stable ground bathed in pale light.
Duncan widened his eyes. He saw a city, a city standing on the endless sea, representing mortal civilization—a massive scar across the sky illuminated the rooftops, towers, and distant buildings. Not far ahead was a slightly worn-down edge district, and further up, he could see many distant and grand structures, including cathedrals and city halls in the “upper city.”
Duncan suddenly laughed, silently, gasping for breath.
But after a moment, he forced himself to stop laughing. He took a deep breath in the cool night wind and then strode toward a direction from his memories.
Cultists also had their own “normal lives.” Aside from a few “priests” who made a living by harming others, the Sun Church, like most other cults, relied on a large number of ordinary people to keep running—these deceived grassroots followers were often the poor citizens of the city’s lower class, neglected elderly, naive youths, or just like Duncan’s current body...
An unnoticed, sickly person running a fraudulent antique shop in the lower city, struggling with life and taxes.
The life of the antique shop owner named “Ron” had come to a terrible end. His debt to some evil deity had been wiped away with his last breath, but he still left a place in this world... a place that Duncan found quite appealing.
(End of Chapter)