Chapter 6: 6: I Died

Dumbass, dumbass, dumbass, dumbass, that’s what’s going through my mind at this very moment.

What a brilliant idea to make the damn gargoyle fly off the edge of a ship.

Looking at the corridor I take to return inside the ship, dozens of people are looking out the window.

“Mom, why is there a person flying?” I glance towards the child who says this.

The child leans against the window while looking at their mother, who stares back in confusion.

“That’s not a person, dear, it’s just a helicopter,” I understand; gargoyles are useful, they naturally camouflage to human eyes.

“But...” I walk slowly behind the mother and child.

Kids have a small chance of bypassing the illusory protection due to their imaginative minds, and that’s very annoying to deal with.

I stop walking behind the duo and head towards the opposite wall, where I lean my back and stare at the two.

Around them, several other people also look out the window, but apparently, this is the only child who sees.

Foolish dreamers live in a world of illusions. I grasp the cross on my necklace as I chant the prayer, part of Proverbs 14, the cross shines with sacred energy and then dissipates.

“Mom, I want to be a pilot!” I simply continue on my way, having confirmed that it works.

The mystical is naturally hidden from the civilian, regardless of the region.

This phenomenon has several names: the Greeks call it Caligina in honor of the Greek goddess, the Indians call it Maya, the Russians call it Vel, the church simply calls it a blessing; personally, I call it an inconvenience for making me have to alter minds.

I sit on a bench halfway back to the vehicle, in front of a vending machine where I buy a soda.

My limit is two silent prayers... since I am still just a baptizer, my body does not summon enough sacred energy without speaking; the cross facilitates the process, but it is still exhausting. The human body cannot naturally perform supernatural acts; we need anchors and meanings.

The mages use symbols, ancient names, and objects of power to cast their spells, but they still lack a natural source of energy, so they inject fragments of creatures or mystical objects into their bodies, usually in the heart or neck, through surgical procedures.

In the case of the Holy Church, this act is considered abominable; instead, we interact with the Shekinah, the presence of God, through passages from the Bible. The Torah and the Quran can also be used.

First, a member of the church performs a prayer using a sacred passage, which summons the presence of the Shekinah that enters our bodies and provides energy for the miracle.

This naturally causes physical strain; the ranks of the Holy Church separate individuals’ physical capabilities to evaluate how many prayers they can summon, as well as the method used.

When someone reaches the minimum requirement of the next rank, they receive a cup of Holy Water, which, when ingested with the Pope’s permission, increases their physical capabilities and energy reserves, a Knight can use five mental prayers before becoming tired.

Obviously, this water is not the same false one used by churches released to the public; it would cause many problems.

Unfortunately, I have not yet been approved for the next rank, so I use the cross to overcome the physical strain; without it, I would have fainted at the bow of the ship.

Disappointed with myself, I drink the contents of that soda can down to the last drop, throw the can away, and lie down on the bench to take a nap.

Although it is my job, altering minds consumes much more energy than other prayers; the reason for this is that it is a violation of free will, and as a result, the Shekinah applies a punishment.

Of course, as merciful as God is, the situation is evaluated, so a heavy punishment rarely occurs. That being said, my fourth student, Sam, died trying to use a prayer to take an item from a store without paying.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Frankly, that guy was depressing, i turn in the seat while placing my left arm under my head; there's still half an hour to reach the destination, so I can take a nap.

“Cassiel!” I only manage ten minutes of rest; is this what they call hell?

Damn Matteo, I glare at the young police officer while cursing him mentally. I just need a nap.

The young officer stares at me, holding a radio in his left hand; he must have tried to contact me.

“What is it?” I say while stretching my arms, my disinterest clear to the young man.

“We heard the noise of a helicopter, and I came to look for you and Assan at Ramond's request,” the young man turns his face to the ferry window as if the helicopter is outside.

I understand, what a scared kid, I get up from the bench and return to the vehicle area, letting the kid follow me.

“Miss Cassiel, where is Assan?” I hear the boy's steps; he's walking away slowly, probably afraid of me.

“I'll explain in the car,” I start to ignore the boy after that. Damn Assan for leaving me to deal with this; I should have thought better before unleashing the fire.

Arriving at the vehicle, my gaze focuses on the fact that Ramond is sitting on the car hood, eating a sandwich and drinking coffee, waiting for my return and Matteo's.

What a lazy bastard, I put my hand in my pocket, taking out my lighter and bringing it to the front of my face.

“Do not remember the things that happened, nor the things from the past,” The energy of Shekinah flows through my body, and the flame of the lighter moves, taking the form of a small will-o'-the-wisp that soars above Matteo's and Ramond's heads.

A small amount of smoke begins to emanate from both of their heads, the memories of the two about Assan being extracted by the divine fire, leaving both in a catatonic state in the process.

Since I have nothing else to do, I open the car door and fall face-first onto the back seat of the vehicle to take a long nap.

If regret could kill, I would die right here.

I find myself floating in an endless night, my body bare, just as I came into the world; despite this, there are no erogenous parts.

Is this what a prophetic dream looks like? For more context, prophetic dreams, also called lucid dreams, are actually premonitions sent by the Archangel Jeremiel.

The night suddenly turns into day, my foot now cold and wet, a putrid odor invading my nostrils.

Blood and a corpse of course, doesn't take much to identify this; I am walking in blood at the moment, hence the cold.

Come on, show me already, Spotting a door, I walk toward it, noticing that the blood is coming from behind the door, I punch it open.

On the other side of the door, located in the center of the room, is a large gurney with a body covered by an aluminum shroud.

“Let me guess, zombies? That would be so cliché,” I head to the gurney, wishing I had pants with pockets to stick my hands into.

Just to screw things up a bit, my big mouth attracts trouble; as I touch the aluminum shroud, a square blade passes in front of my face, almost beheading me in one blow; I end up dodging by stepping back.

What the hell is this? I take two more steps back, waiting for the creature to reveal itself as I close my right fist.

If I’m in a lucid dream, I can control it, so some weapon please!

Unfortunately, no weapon appears; instead, the creature in front of me reveals its face and body.

Eagle claws made of steel, dark fur covering its entire body, hands similar to a monkey, while its head is that of a gray wolf, with a pair of large fangs protruding from its mouth.

I understand; it’s a Yoguai. I decide to make the smartest choice in this dream—run for my life.

In this case, not to run for real; I already understand the message, so I just need to wake up, but how am I going to do this? The easiest way to wake up from a dream is through pain or external action; I doubt Matteo and Ramond will wake me, so it’s going to be the hard way.

The Yoguai has already crossed the morgue door and is following me down the hallway; since it’s not a real place, there’s nothing I can use to throw at this damned creature, nor to hit myself...

It’s easier for me to just let it hit me with its sword, what can I do? I stop running and turn to face the Yoguai.

Does dying hurt a lot?

And with that, I black out in the dream. The Yoguai strikes its sword at my neck and beheads me; the cold steel of the blade hurts more than the cut—I can see my feet as I fall to the ground, blood spilling from the basis of my neck.

Yeah, dying really hurts, even if it’s a dream.

What a terrible idea, The Yoguai grabs my head and stares into my eyes, a horrible creature, the Yoguai smiles, its rotten teeth filled with torn flesh between them.

I understand; the coroner is already dead.

My vision fades, and then, seconds later, I sit up in the car seat; the vehicle is already in motion, with Ramond and Matteo sitting in the front seat.

The vehicle has left the ferry, now crossing the streets of Vienna toward the morgue.

“How long until we arrive?” My voice startles Matteo, who looks back with a pale face and wide eyes; Ramond doesn't even care.

“6 minutes until we arrive; how was the nap?” A palpable irritation echoes from Ramond's voice; sleeping on duty is shameful.

Got it, 6 minutes until we arrive. What can I prepare to face that Yoguai?

Part wolf, part monkey, and part eagle; should I use Samson’s prayer? No, it uses too much energy... wait, I know what to use, I grasp the cross around my neck.

“Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves,” A small light envelops me and strengthens me; my pupils turn into those of an eagle.

Matthew 7:15 has two effects; the first is to see the truth in someone's words, and the second is to make me stronger against wolves, it is the most appropriate prayer for this situation. I smile; in the end, the nap is worth it; thank you, Jeremiel.

After a few minutes, the car stops in front of the morgue; I get up from the seat and stare at the white building.

Come on, Yoguai; you’re the one who will lose your head now.