Sirius lay sprawled on the ground, his skull blown wide open. He looked thoroughly dead.
"Huff... huff..."
Blaine gasped for air as he lowered the revolver.
The adrenaline of combat fading, he finally felt how exhausted he was.
The places where he'd been struck during the struggle throbbed with increasing pain.
His mind went blank, and a powerful sense of unreality washed over him.
Am I dreaming? Transmigration, hallucinations, murder... none of this had ever happened in his twenty-something years of life. Could it all just be a dream?
Just as that thought crossed his mind, Blaine was shaken awake.
"Silas, are you alright?!"
Cecilia's beautiful face appeared before him. She clutched his arm tightly, her worry written all over her expression.
So it wasn't a dream after all.
Blaine came back to his senses and couldn't help but sigh.
"I'm fine."
He replied casually and stood up, surveying his surroundings.
Cecilia looked at him with concern but said nothing more.
Among the scattered items that had fallen from the drawer was a mirror.
Blaine reached down to pick it up and looked at his reflection.
Staring back at him was an exceptionally handsome young man with black hair and blue eyes, sharp features.
He wore a thick canvas straitjacket covered in sturdy black leather straps. If those straps were all buckled, no amount of struggling could free him.
His face was gaunt and pale, and in the depths of his blue eyes lurked an unmistakable tinge of madness and suffering.
Handsome, yes, but with an unhealthy edge.
This was Silas?
Blaine quickly matched the face to memories from the past.
No, he should say: this is me now.
He smiled bitterly at the thought, and the young man in the mirror gave a miserable smile in return.
Blaine, who had died in a car accident on some blue planet, had been revived in the body of a mentally ill young man in another world, inheriting all his memories.
At this moment, Blaine felt shocked, confused, afraid, regretful... but ultimately, he could only manage a helpless smile.
Looking on the bright side, it beat being actually dead. Since this was reality, he might as well accept it.
So from now on, I'm Silas.
Blaine, no, Silas thought to himself.
Cecilia was still watching him with concern. Silas smiled at her and was about to say something reassuring when he heard a commotion outside.
He reached over to pull back the curtain, and crimson moonlight immediately flooded the room, making his presence in another world feel all the more real.
Through the window, he could see the scene outside.
It was nighttime.
A red moon hung in the sky, gas streetlamps illuminated the roads, and four-wheeled carriages rattled past. Several people stood outside, men and women who appeared to be neighbors.
They were looking at Silas's house with uncertainty, discussing something among themselves. That was the source of the commotion.
Damn it, the gunshots!
Silas's heart lurched as realization struck. He'd fired six shots. The neighbors must have heard. If they came up and saw the body, what would he do?
But on second thought, he calmed down.
So what if they saw the body? This was self-defense!
That bastard Sirius had attacked them first! Besides, he was now covered in tumors, looking like a monster.
Any normal person could see something was wrong with him. It would be obvious who the good guy was and who the bad guy was.
With that thought, Silas felt somewhat reassured. After a moment's consideration, he turned to Cecilia and said, "Cecilia, go downstairs and get the police."
"Get the police?"
Cecilia's eyes widened.
"What else? You think we can run or cover this up?"
Silas said, glancing at his newly acquired sister.
Cecilia had the same black hair and blue eyes as Silas, equally striking features, but unlike Silas's sickly appearance, she radiated youthful vitality.
"If we report this to the police right away, we'll have the initiative.
Hiding it would only make us look suspicious. As long as we explain it was self-defense, they shouldn't give us trouble."
"Oh, okay. Silas, aren't you coming with me?"
"I'm staying here to preserve the scene."
Only then did Cecilia nod. She turned and hurried out.
Through the window, Silas watched his sister burst out of the house.
The onlookers scattered like startled birds, but once she passed, they quickly regrouped, each wearing a curious expression, looking exactly like a flock of ignorant sheep.
She should know to find a patrol officer on the street, not run all the way to the police station, right?
Well, hopefully.
Silas thought to himself as his breathing gradually steadied.
The room quickly fell silent, so quiet he could hear the dripping of blood from the altar. Sirius's corpse lay face-up.
The bullet had blown off the top of his skull, and combined with his already torn mouth, his face had become even more horrifying.
Kind of creepy, actually.
Silas's mouth twitched. He rummaged through the clutter on the desk for revolver ammunition and reloaded the gun fully, finally feeling secure.
When he turned his attention back to Sirius's body, he suddenly noticed a flash of incongruous white on the black-robed corpse.
Taking a few steps closer for a better look, he discovered several folded sheets of letter paper.
The pages were slightly blown open by the wind, revealing just one word:
Silas Londor.
This letter is about me?
Staring at those sheets of paper, Silas hesitated for a moment before crouching down to pinch them out with two fingers.
Technically, he should preserve the scene, but his instincts told him this letter might contain important information about him.
Silas unfolded the pages.
The letter was written in Ruen script. Silas searched his memories and quickly became familiar with the text. He read slowly:
[Dear Lady M:
Following your instructions, I have successfully taken control of Silas Londor.
You were right; he carries a strong aura of the Lord. However, Lady M, while I am pleased, I also hate him immensely!
He bears the Lord's aura.
He can meet the Lord in hallucinations and hear the Lord's teachings.
This is a blessing all of us believers desperately crave, yet he, this damned Silas Londor, actually says he hates his fate and detests those hallucinations!
This blasphemer, this ignorant fool! How dare he!
He doesn't deserve to be so close to the Lord. He should become a sacrifice for the Lord's descent! I can feel it; the Lord is within his body. His filthy shell imprisons the Lord's will!
Lord! Oh Lord!
I can't wait another moment! I understand now! This must be a trial the Lord has sent down for me, it must be! I will use his death to summon the Lord's descent!
Today is his eighteenth birthday. From a mystical perspective, it's the perfect timing!...]
This was an insane and malicious letter. The handwriting at the beginning was relatively neat, but the further it went, the more frenzied it became.
Combined with Sirius's deranged statements, it was enough to demonstrate the writer's excellent mental state.
"Looks like Sirius was already off his rocker when he wrote this," Silas muttered to himself. "No wonder he'd do something like blood sacrifice and murder."
But despite its madness, this letter still revealed some terrifying information.
Sirius's approach to Silas Londor was clearly premeditated.
He must belong to some secret organization, following orders to control Silas.
The letter was meant to report the situation to his superior, someone called "Lady M," though he'd started losing his mind halfway through writing it.
Moreover, Silas's body apparently did have a problem, seemingly related to the "Lord" Sirius kept mentioning.
Combined with Sirius's sudden transformation, this world might actually have supernatural elements.
"What the hell? My body is being targeted by a cult?"
He couldn't help but frown.
Did that mean he might be captured by more lunatics like Sirius for blood sacrifices in the future?
This is complete bullshit.
Silas took a deep breath, feeling both irritated and uneasy.
Just then...
"Bang!"
Without warning, Silas felt a tremendous force strike his chest.
The world before his eyes suddenly lurched forward. The next instant, his back slammed hard against the cold, hard floor.
Only then did he realize he'd been knocked flat on his back!
The pitch-black ceiling filled his vision, and a shattered, horrifying head slowly emerged from below.
It was Sirius, back from the dead!
His skull blown open, yet he could still move!
His heavy body pressed down hard on Silas, crawling toward him stiffly and slowly.
"Bang! Bang!"
Silas's hair stood on end, shocked and furious. He raised the revolver and frantically pulled the trigger, aiming at Sirius's head.
Bullets pierced through repeatedly, turning Sirius's head into a shattered melon, but even so, he kept pinning Silas down.
This was literally a moving corpse!
Sirius extended his withered, aged palm in front of Silas's face. Carved into the center of that palm was a twisted black mark.
The mark writhed and contracted like a living thing until it burst through the skin, transforming into a small sphere mixed with blood and black patterns, floating in defiance of all physical laws.
"Get off! Get off!"
Silas sensed something dangerous from that sphere. He roared and smashed Sirius's body with the butt of the revolver.
He tried to break free, but his body was tightly pinned down by the other man. There was no escape!
He saw Sirius's mangled face move slightly, as if smiling.
"Lord, please save us..."
Sirius spoke in a cold, hollow tone, his movements stiff as he slowly shoved that black-and-red sphere into Silas's mouth.