CHAPTER 181: UNTOUCHABLE

"What did you see?" Raphael asked. His voice cracked, and something new appeared on his face....

Fear.

Hermes never expected that being perceived could wound Raphael so deeply. Once, he might have been surprised, even confused by such a reaction. But the Hermes who had touched that memory knew better.

This man, who smiled so easily and carried himself with warmth, was far more haunted than anyone would guess.

Hermes reached forward instinctively, his fingers hovering close, the gesture soft and unspoken. Raphael flinched before he could make contact.

The rejection was small, but it was sharp enough to sting. Hermes let his hand fall back slowly and shook his head. His voice came out low, steady, almost tender in its restraint.

"Do not worry. I will not touch you if you do not want me to... unlike them."

Raphael blinked, the stutter breaking his composure for the first time. "W-what do you mean?"

Hermes inhaled slowly, the memory still burning fresh in his chest. "You were not always alone when you were in the crypt. There were two men. The two who practically raised you."

***

Hermes told him about what it was like entering him as the Mindbloom beast.

It was as though he had become Raphael, thanks to becoming the Mindbloom beast. Slipping behind the boy’s eyes, forced to see what he had seen.

He was not the master of this body. He could not lift a hand, could not speak a word. He was only a passenger in the memory, a future soul looking through the cage of the past.

The golden bars loomed around him, and when they opened for the first time, Hermes felt Raphael’s confusion as if it were his own. His eyes were heavy, bleary from sleep that had lasted too long.

The space beyond was dark, damp, echoing with the weight of stone walls.

Then a figure entered.

A man bald even in those earlier years, dressed in a cassock as black as the crypt around them. The white band at his collar gleamed faintly in the dimness.

"Ah... You are awake, little one," the Reverend murmured.

His voice was smooth, honeyed, carrying the practiced cadence of sermons. He crouched, reaching through the bars to stroke the boy’s hair.

But the alien child recoiled. His skin steamed under the touch, the sensation burning into him like acid.

"Ahhhh!!!" He wailed instinctively, the sound raw and wounded.

Hermes could feel it coil in his throat, could feel the agony rise through skin that was never meant to be touched by water-bound creatures.

The Reverend only smiled. "So it is true. He is a creature of flame. And we, of water, wound him by nature. Untouchable... like the divine."

Fear spiked like lightning inside the boy’s chest. Hermes felt his small heart beat erratically, a desperate flutter caged within ribs that could not escape.

"Bring me a basin," the Reverend commanded.

A staff member shuffled in, carrying a silver bowl sloshing with water.

Raphael pressed himself against the far bars, shaking his head frantically. "No! Please, no—!"

The Reverend unlocked the cage and dragged him out. The boy struggled, fists beating uselessly, but the priest’s grip was firm.

"Hush, child. This is for your salvation."

"No! It hurts!"

The basin was brought, and the priest’s voice rose with solemn conviction. "I bless you with the virtue of Fortitude. This is my Dogma."

Light burst from his hands, not soft but searing. It did not heal....

It branded him.

Raphael’s small body seized under the weight of it, but he did not collapse. He could feel every nerve alive with pain, feel his body boiling as though his blood were set aflame. But something unnatural pressed against him, something that forbade surrender.

His skin blistered where the water touched, and yet he did not break. His jaw clenched, his fists trembled against the air, his eyes watered but did not shut.

His Dogma would not allow him to escape.

The water boiled around him, his pale skin turning white as bone under the strain.

Still, the Reverend whispered about virtue, about the necessity of enduring pain for the sake of salvation. Ritual after ritual followed.

The man touched him again and again, hands heavy with false affection. Each contact sent steam curling from his skin, each prayer laced with commandments he could not resist.

And then another shadow entered.

A taller man, covered head to toe. His garments were heavy, fabric layered like armor, and his face was hidden beneath black cloth. Large, round goggles covered his eyes, and he moved with the precision of someone uninterested in comfort or ceremony.

"The Scientist," the Reverend called him, voice laced with forced warmth. "You have come to observe."

The Reverend’s smile faltered. "Ah... Scientist."

The man ignored him, his voice muffled but cold. "Step aside."

"I was conducting a sacrament."

"And I was sent to observe the specimen."

The Reverend hesitated, then gestured. "Very well. The Thirteen’s will be done."

Raphael shrank back.

The Scientist approached, pulling on fresh gloves. "Hold still."

"No... No more..."

The Reverend clucked his tongue. "Stay still."

Gloved hands pressed Raphael flat against a table. Instruments gleamed as the Scientist unfolded them one by one. Metal sliced through his body. Raphael screamed, but did not leave the table due to his ’blessing’ of endurance.

"Interesting," the Scientist muttered, peering into the incision. "Organ structure nearly identical to a human’s... but fluids not hydrogen-based. No, this is different. Liquid helium in his blood. Intriguing."

He continued, probing deeper, murmuring observations. "Brain matter stable. Blood replaced with... yes, solinium-bound helium. Not of this earth."

Raphael’s body trembled, but Fortitude held him conscious. His eyes watered, his lips quivered, but he endured.

The Scientist raised a fragment of glowing rock. "The comet. The source."

He crushed it between his palms. Molecules unraveled, light spilling out until only a pulsing shard remained.

"They called me the Alchemist before, because of how I can separate and mix matter to become a new one. But really, I feel more like a walking filter system."

He turned to Raphael, expecting the boy to laugh. But he didn’t, and nobody in the room did.

"I was joking."

The Reverend chuckled. "Good thing you did not become a comedian then, Mr. Scientist."

The Scientist scoffed, and turned to Raphael again, prying his lips apart.

"Open."

Raphael whimpered. The shard slipped into his mouth. A surge of heat, then light. His wounds sealed. The pain faded. His body glowed faintly, healed by what had been forced into him.

"Just as I hypothesized. He needs solinium to survive." The Scientist concluded. "But more testing must be done."

"And I will continue cleansing his soul," the Reverend said. His eyes glimmered with fervor. "Together, we will shape him."

The Scientist nodded, satisfied, and announced he would return each week. The Reverend echoed his resolve, promising to return each Sunday with water and scripture.

Both left their mark, both carved their truths into the boy’s body, until fear and fatigue drowned him. He fell asleep each time with only one wish...

That someone would save him from the endless nightmare.

***

When he escaped the memory, and Hermes gasped as though resurfacing from drowning. It was only for a split-second that he entered Raphael’s mind, but it felt like centuries.

"I had hoped," he whispered, his voice raw, "that you would never know."

Hermes reached for him again, this time slower, his voice soft with understanding. "When you embraced me... You allow yourself to be in pain. And you asked me to sleep with you, which no doubt would hurt you. Why?"

Raphael trembled. His lips parted, but no sound came.

Hermes nodded. "I know why. I just want to hear you say it."

It was because Raphael just wanted to be touched without being treated like a specimen, or a child to be indoctrinated. Even if it hurts, he wanted to be touched...

Like a normal human.