Chapter 18: Acolyte
A man in a quilted jacket marched smoothly towards the deserted gates of Bleakstone.
Despite his unruly hair that danced with the wind, he was still a picture of wild beauty, lonesome yet captivating.
The man was Luke Scissors who had just exited Juanito's shop.
Four green canvass bags were now dangling on both of his arms. The bags were like some sort of gunny sacks but were better designed to offer ease of use. Not to mention, the craftsmanship was beyond anything he had seen.
Down to the finest details, it was masterfully woven into perfection and idyllic in every aspect.
As Luke reminisced over his brief experience with the supernatural shop, he was unable to placate his wildly thumping chest with mere meditation alone.
'That was undoubtedly a work of wizardry. There couldn't be any plausible reason other than employing the unfathomably enigmatic magecraft,' Luke hypothesized in mute amazement.
'Especially the miniature sun that hung on the construct's walls. How can such an artifact summon light brighter than a bonfire without producing any kind of heat? The flashing words, as well. Did he capture some exotic breed of firefly and extracted its essence?'
Luke also recalled the fantastical tools which the shop owner operated. Whatever they were, they were certainly contraptions from some lost ancient civilization, unearthed and given power through an arcane spell.
Questions of grave significance whipped Luke's mind incessantly. It seemed that the phenomenon he just witnessed would rob him of his precious sleep tonight.
As his figure loomed even closer to the city's entrance, he sauntered through the thinly guarded gates.
A patrol then haughtily approached Luke to conduct his routine inspection, hoping for successful extortion but his upbeat steps stopped dead in their tracks.
"..Tsk…an Enforcer," the patrol mumbled in dismay upon seeing the metallic tag dangling around Luke's neck. Tiny words were carved on it, but the most telltale sign was its ellipsoid shape with an ashen polish. The patrol then returned to his gambling cohorts empty-handed.
Enforcers were state-sanctioned, special individuals, tasked to administer the laws of the kingdom which would have been otherwise difficult for the local militia or patrols. However, that was only on the surface.
The term Enforcer was just a disguise to hide the true nature of their profession - Acolytes. Endowed with the unique abilities of their faith, they're tasked to deal with the paranormal incidents brought about by the Gray Era.
Since time immemorial, the whimsical Gods had once walked among the common men. They molded themselves to blend within the middling beings of the mortal world to relish in their masterplans. Their free-wheeling nature caused a multitude of bizarre phenomena to emerge, and the manifestations of their divine might altered the very laws of nature.
Conflicts between the Gods eventually erupted as they fought over authority and dominance. Thereafter, alignments were formed on the foundation of countless betrayals and conspiracies.
Historically labeled by the scholars as the Gray Era, the epochal tussle of the Gods reshaped the mortal realm at an atomic level, dyeing the vast horizon with a monochromatic shade until a primordial entity broke the standstill with overpowering supremacy that dwarfed even the warring Gods.
They were then forcibly ejected from the mortal lands, exiled to never cause harm to the humans. Balance was restored as peace reigned over. Beyond the destruction, civilizations rose from the ashes although it was also the dawn of unending strife over worldly interests and beliefs.
However, the widely accepted notion of the Gods truly vacating the mortal realm was only partly true.
The Gods were no fools. They left vestiges of their divine powers, remnants of divinity that were infused into all manners of articles, hoping that one day they will be able to descend once more. Hence, the world today was littered with aberrant occurrences albeit subtly hidden to the eyes of the common folks.
And to combat the left overs of the cataclysm that plagued the world, various entities in the likes of nations, orthodox religious groups, sects, and factions collectively ratified the appellation 'Acolyte'.
The Acolytes' core mission was to eradicate the root of anomalies brought about by mystic phenomena. Otherwise, mitigate the hazardous effects to an acceptable degree so as to safeguard the survival of humanity.
Luke Scissors was among the chosen few. As a devout believer of the Lunistice Theocracy who worships the God of Eclipse, he was instilled with the executive virtue of honesty and righteous indignation at a young age.
Although his motivation was not as noble as selfless servitude, but rather the opposite.
It was to indulge in leisure and luxury in order to attain the fleeting heights of financial freedom. In short, he wanted to be wealthy to the point where he could do what he pleases. A retirement of extravagance and a luscious lifestyle comparable to magnates.
But to do that, he needed to grind himself, work hard for the top brass, and if fate would permit, a heaven defying chance encounter to achieve the items on his bucket list.
He then titled his gaze towards the area where the patrol guards were languidly wasting their time.
'Scums-!' Luke mocked in his heart as he furtively spat out of disgust.
Despite his personality, Luke was a fervent advocate of honest perseverance to achieve one's goal. 'If you can't succeed with talent, triumph with effort.' was his life's credo.
The very picture of indulgence and leisure through corrupt means only inspired his animosity. The patrol guards, that squandered the taxpayers' precious money, automatically drew his undiluted ire.
As Luke's steps led him into the heart of the Bleakstone, he turned to a desolate corner veiled by the encroaching nightfall.
After a few moments, a cat coated with glistening fur crawled out from the darkness, its aureate irises flickered with caution.
As the mysterious cat drew ever closer to Luke, he felt the pull of gravity bore down on him, intent on making him fold.
"It is greater than the Creator and more unholy than the devil. The destitute have it, the wealthy need it, and if you eat it you'll perish. What is it?" an archaic voice rang in Luke's ears.
Despite the overwhelming pressure, Luke maintained emotionless as though the whole ordeal was rehearsed several times.
"Nothing," he said emphatically.
"Meow~!" the cat then turned on its hind legs and leaped into the thin air as the shadows engulfed its body.
'Can't even catch a break, can I?' Luke protested in his heart.
And likewise, he reluctantly chased the creature as he entered the darkened corner, his figure drifting into the unknown.
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