CHAPTER 11: THE CREATOR, THE HEAVENLY FATHER

Squeak, squeak—

Pale hands scraped across the hood of the car, leaving dried bloodstains and scratch marks. A vicious ghost slowly crawled up from beneath, its translucent body distorted in many parts. Its terrifying appearance could silence a crying child.

It had no head, its grey neck cavity gushing blood. The child was silent because they had fainted from fright.

In an instant, Wayne’s face turned paler than the ghost’s. “Shit-shit, this car must have been in an accident. The victim is looking for revenge.”

“G-g-ghost...”

Naturally, William had seen the apparition from the passenger seat, too. He frantically pointed forward and tried to dispel it with warm, radiant light.

Veronica pressed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“This isn’t a victim, but a trap set by the Deathwalker. Using magic would alert him to our presence, hindering our operation.”

She didn’t want their mark to run away. Another day living with the curse was one day too long. She would capture the Deathwalker on this trip no matter what. The horrifying ghost was all bark and no bite. It would leave once they drove out of the range of the spell.

Be brave, and they would be fine.

William’s face scrunched up. He knew that Veronica was right, but...

“Easy for you to say—why are your eyes closed?!”

Veronica silently turned to the side before opening her eyes. Another spectral hand slapped the car window, draining all the color from her face and making her shudder. But then she stole a glance through squinted eyes, feeling the urge to look despite her fear.

“They can’t touch us, so just pretend that they didn’t exist,” Monica said sagely. “Slow down a bit. They are transparent, so we can still drive.”

The cat’s eyes were closed, too.

“Then you open your eyes!” William snapped. He wished he could join the pretty girl and cat latching onto each other tightly for comfort, but he couldn’t. He was in the front. The only one he could hold was Wayne.

When he turned to the driver’s side, he realized that Wayne was driving slower—but with his eyes shut!

“Damn it, you’re driving!”

The ghosts didn’t terrify William to death, but Wayne almost gave him a heart attack. He hurriedly rolled up the window on his side, roaring at Wayne to look straight ahead and drive safely.

He had spent two years getting his license. As a self-aware road menace, he strictly prohibited himself from touching the steering wheel under any condition. And he knew well that whether a car crashed or hit someone depended entirely on whether the driver followed the traffic law.

Suppose there were someone following regulations by watching television from the couch of their living room, separated from the road by a small garden. William was confident that he would still run them over if he were driving.

The self-awareness made him fear car accidents more than ghosts. His voice jumped an octave higher as he shouted, “Veronica, maybe we should just kill them. I’m scared.”

“You’re afraid of ghosts, and you call yourself a devotee of the Goddess of Sun?”

“So? Is there a rule that a Sun’s follower can’t be afraid of ghosts??” William was nearly in tears. “Besides, I’m not talking about ghosts, but Wayne. He’s driving with his eyes closed!”

Silence stretched in the back seat. Only then did Veronica and Monica realize the severity of the situation and curse out in a roar.

The blue sedan, covered in ghosts, shook violently amid the ruckus.

***

A moment later, the blue car ran along the road, free from the earlier haunting. Veronica was right: the ghosts parted on their own once they drove beyond a certain range.

Wayne, holding the wheel, had requested a driver change but got rejected. Everyone in the car was scared of ghosts, and none was willing to open the door and get out.

William was the quickest to recover from his fear. Noticing that Wayne was still shaken, he said, “Wayne, I can’t believe you’re scared of ghosts. Trust me, you’ll have many more similar encounters going forward. Get used to it quickly, or you’ll be tarnishing the reputation of us mages.”

You guys have already tarnished your reputation thoroughly!

Wayne huffed and argued, “I’m a conservative. Ghosts are too liberal for me.”

“Come on, you’re just scared.” Feeling mischievous, William continued with a grin, “Why don’t I tell you a few romantic ghost stories to help you overcome your fear?”

“Is it family friendly? If it is, I don’t wanna hear it.” Wayne glanced at him, knowing that William was trying to scare him. He deadpanned, “Speaking of horror stories, I know a good one. It haunted me throughout the early half of my life.”

William gulped. “Let’s hear it.”

In the back, Veronica craned her ears. She was scared, but curious.

“It was a dead silent night without moonlight. A child said to his mother, ‘Mom, there’s a child under the bed...’”

Wayne narrated the story with dramatic intonation and pauses. “The mother looked under the bed and indeed found a child, who looked exactly like the one on the bed. The child said, ‘...Mom, there’s a child on the bed!’”

“Then?”

William’s face twisted as he tried to merge his trembling body with the car window. Holding her breath, Veronica tightened her arms around Monica.

Monica couldn’t breathe.

“Then...” Wayne slowed the car and gave William a meaningful look before saying in a deep voice, “Then the mother scolded the twins.”

The twist wasn’t particularly novel, but in this era, it was innovative enough to ruin the atmosphere, making William’s subsequent stories pale in comparison.

Operation: Scare Wayne was a failure.

***

The blue sedan crossed a stone bridge onto a slightly bumpy road. As raindrops pattered on the windows, Wayne turned on the windshield wipers. Through the blur, they saw the hazy silhouette of the town.

Under the gloomy sky, scattered lights bled into the backdrop like watercolor. The rain failed to wash the mist away, but it did drown out the noises. The town was eerily quiet except for the occasional dog barks.

Wayne drove into the town’s main street. Most shops lining the path were closed, with only bars and inns still operating. At the far end of the street lay a fenced church. The cross on its rooftop stood firm in the wind and rain, representing the mainstream faith of the town of Klofron and the Chosen Land at large.

The Creator!

The belief in the Creator, also known as the Heavenly Father, had a long history, far more enduring than the beliefs in the various goddesses. Wayne wondered how the different faiths coexisted rather than erupting into religious wars.

As the rightful faith of the Chosen Land, the Church of Heavenly Father worshipped the creator of all things in the world.

The Church should have firm control over the continent in Heavenly Father’s name, enjoying an unchallenged supremacy. Followers of all other deities should all be labeled heretics, and even a pretty girl like Veronica would be branded as a witch, sent to prison, an underground chamber, and then a burning cross.

That was the Chosen Land he envisioned. The current chaos of multiple faiths coexisting didn’t make sense to him.

The Chosen Land had magic, and gods existed, including the Heavenly Father, who had created all. Being the Creator, he would naturally be the one supreme deity. The lesser gods shouldn’t be sitting at the same table as Him, stealing followers from His plate.

But if the Creator didn’t exist and was fabricated like a virtual idol, how did the faith become the official one over the other beliefs? By what right did the Church lord over the royal families of various countries?

The contradiction puzzled him. Perhaps the goddesses pay their tithe to the Heavenly Father through jus noctis? But no, if tithing through tittying would make the Heavenly Father turn a blind eye, the male gods would’ve all died due to tithe evasion.

Unless the Creator, with His boundless love, saw all as equal in his eyes.

Rumble!

A thunderclap started Wayne out of his impious musings. He opened the door and put up an umbrella.

Veronica harrumphed from the back, and Wayne, playing the role of her driver, opened the rear door to hold the umbrella up for her. She played the part of a wealthy young lady perfectly since she was a wealthy young lady. Holding the black cat in her arms, she headed into the inn. She remained silent throughout, letting Wayne do the talking.

He folded the umbrella at the counter and quickly surveyed the first floor, spotting two plainly dressed young ladies on a bench to the right. With heavy makeup covering their faces, their low collars revealed their smooth and fair... necklaces.

Under Veronica’s disdainful gaze, he exchanged a knowing look with one of the ladies and reached an agreement with her. Then he did the same with the other woman.

Both are good!

He reserved three rooms and, facing the overly friendly innkeeper’s inquiries, summarized their predicament. They were passing by. It was dark and raining, so they made a stop to rest... He spoke politely, but the weariness he injected into his voice stopped the chatty innkeeper from chatting more. He led the group upstairs and delivered them dinner.

After the innkeeper left, the two ladies knocked on Wayne’s door. As soon as they entered, they saw an eager William and an impassive Veronica sitting on the bed, cradling Monica on her lap.

“Sir, this will cost you extra.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll find the payment satisfactory.” Wayne nodded. Everything was negotiable.

Soon enough, the two ladies were leaning against each other with drool running down the corners of their mouths, looking drained like their souls were departing. Their dull eyes were dazed and unfocused.

Clearly, they had consumed mushrooms.

Veronica’s method of extracting information was as simple and crude as ever. She was a woman of action who disliked wasting time. Without preamble, she asked about Bloody Mike’s whereabouts.

Klofron wasn’t a big town. Due to industrialization, most of the young had moved to the city, causing the town’s population to decline year after year. It shouldn’t be difficult to find Bloody Mike.

They had the Deathwalker’s name, Mike Nelson, and they knew Mr. Nelson was getting married soon. In a town with a dwindling population, the wedding would undoubtedly be a rare celebratory event. She was certain she could find out his home address.

That was what she had thought, but Bloody Mike turned out to be a man of integrity who had not invited the town’s ladies to his bachelor party. Veronica’s plan was thwarted again, and she got nothing out of the ladies of the night.

Not long after, it was the innkeeper’s turn to be stupefied. Unlike the ladies, he was well-informed and knew where Mike Nelson lived.

“Drive west and through the path in the forest. That’ll lead you to the Nelson Family Estate.”

“Estate?!” Veronica frowned. “What kind of estate? Is the family wealthy?”

“They were. The ancestors of the Nelsons named Klofron, and they once owned all the land in the town. Until one night...”

“Everyone went mad!”