Anomaly

Chapter 366 – Worship of the true gods [12]

(POV – Dominic Virel)

Dominic was getting ready for another night of preaching. The dimness of the hall was broken only by the soft glow of a few candles scattered across the altars, their flames flickering gently and casting long shadows across the walls.

The devotees would probably arrive in a few minutes, so Dominic didn’t have much time for preparation. Still, calling it “preparation” was almost an exaggeration.

There were no elaborate ceremonial garments, no long rituals to perform before the sermon. Dominic simply adjusted the collar of his robe, absentmindedly smoothed the wrinkled fabric, and took a deep breath, as if trying to organize his thoughts.

However, there was one gesture he simply couldn’t abandon, a small ritual he repeated every night. One by one, Dominic walked across the hall, passing in front of the statues that represented the Virtues.

The white stone of the sculptures gleamed under the candlelight, revealing flawless forms. Each statue carried a majestic posture, serene faces, and expressions that seemed to transcend any ordinary emotion.

Dominic would stop before each of them for a few seconds, carefully observing their sculpted features. He admired them. He paid them his silent respects.

In his mind, he recited words of praise, recalling the stories, the qualities, and the perfection each one represented. He preached to himself, even if only in silence, about how magnificent they were, beautiful beyond human comprehension, powerful in an untouchable form. Curiously, these were the only moments when Dominic did not feel envy.

Standing before those immaculate figures, something inside him simply grew quiet. There was no possible comparison, no competition like there was with other people. Somehow, Dominic could see them as something above himself, something that existed on a different plane, far too distant to be reached, judged, or even fully understood.

Something he could not touch. Something he could never become. And what could he do about that? Nothing. Perhaps that was exactly why Dominic felt relieved. A strange and subtle relief, but relief nonetheless. Because only in those moments did he not have to compete. He didn’t have to prove anything. He didn’t have to feel inferior.

Dominic was fully aware of how dark and imperfect his own heart was. He knew every stain that lived within his soul, every twisted thought, every desire that many would call abominable. Even so, it mattered little to him. Humans were naturally imperfect, fragile, flawed, contradictory. And he was no different. But there was something that set him apart from the rest. A purpose.

Dominic had a clear objective carved into his mind, an objective he believed he was getting closer and closer to achieving. He could feel it. The next step was near, dangerously near. Perhaps just one more small effort, one more night like this one, and he would finally reach what he had desired for so long.

The final goal he had yearned for all this time. With his hands clasped before his chest and his eyes closed, Dominic prayed. His words came out softly, an intimate whisper between him and something only he seemed to understand. His lips moved slowly as he preached to the void, as if the very darkness of the church were his congregation.

Then his ears caught the sound. The soft creak of the heavy wooden door echoed through the once-silent hall. Someone had entered. Almost immediately, a gentle and warm smile appeared on Dominic’s lips, a welcoming smile, worthy of a devoted pastor greeting a lost soul. He slowly opened his eyes and calmly turned around, his robes brushing lightly against the floor.

It was time. Dominic turned his gaze toward the entrance of the church, ready to receive the first lamb of the night. However, what stood before the door was far from a lamb. Definitely not. A figure stood there, wearing a finely tailored jacket that fell neatly to the waist, perfectly fitted to the body. The fabric looked expensive, smooth and immaculate.

A long-brimmed hat tilted over the figure’s head, casting a thick shadow that concealed most of the upper half of the face, leaving only the outline of the chin and part of the lips visible. The hands were covered by dark gloves, tightly fitted around the fingers, completing the meticulously elegant appearance.

Every detail of the figure’s posture and clothing screamed sophistication and elegance. Yet, to Dominic’s eyes, that elegance was nothing more than a veneer. Behind it, something far more disturbing revealed itself.

A dark, thick, sickly aura seemed to seep silently from the figure, like an invisible fog contaminating the air around them. It was the kind of presence that didn’t merely unsettle, it rotted the atmosphere, carrying with it the sense of something irreparably corrupted.

A completely lost soul. There was no trace of redemption there, no spark of light to cling to. This was not the aura of someone still walking toward salvation. It was the mark of something that had passed that point long ago. A lamb... one that had already been sacrificed. A long time ago.

Dominic remained silently watching the figure. Even so, it was impossible to decipher what lay behind those eyes. His gaze was deep, unreadable, completely impossible to interpret.

“It’s been a while since our last meeting, Mr. Dominic” The figure spoke calmly as he slowly raised his gaze to meet Dominic’s face. A faint smile curved his lips: “Looks like things have been going well for you”

Dominic didn’t respond. Still, the figure didn’t seem bothered by the silence that settled between them. With calm, unhurried steps, he walked toward a chair a few meters away. The old wood creaked softly as he sat down, crossing one leg over the other with casual ease.

The faint light filtering through the church’s stained-glass windows cast patches of color across the floor. For a brief moment, those colors brushed across the figure’s face before slowly sliding away with the shifting light. Even so, he remained there, perfectly still. There seemed to be no intention whatsoever of leaving the church.

Dominic knew that very well. He also knew exactly who that figure was. And being who he was, he certainly wouldn’t leave without doing what he had come to do. A quiet sigh slipped from Dominic’s lips, heavy with resignation. Resting one hand on the back of the pew in front of him, he finally spoke in a casual, distant tone that carried not the slightest hint of familiarity.

“It’s been quite some time, Mr. Graham” Dominic’s voice came out cold and indifferent, carrying an apathy that barely concealed his true feelings. His eyes remained fixed on the man in front of him, while the slight arch of his eyebrow betrayed his impatience: “May I ask what I owe the honor of your distinguished visit?”

The words were smooth, but the sarcasm in them was as natural as breathing. Dominic shifted his weight in a relaxed manner, as though Graham’s presence were nothing more than a minor inconvenience in his day. The reluctance in his voice was unmistakable.

Graham, who had heard every word, couldn’t help but form a faint smirk. It was a small, lazy smile. Without the slightest ceremony, he simply waved his hand in the air dismissively, as though brushing aside something trivial: “We’re long past the stage of pretending, my dear Dominic” he said, his voice low but firm: “There’s no need to show that much respect. Besides... I know perfectly well you don’t have any for me”

His gaze then drifted away from Dominic and slowly wandered across the hall, settling on the stone sculptures surrounding the place. The surfaces of the statues were slightly worn, marked with thin cracks.

Although the carved faces were indistinct, weathered to the point where they no longer revealed who they had once been modeled after, Graham didn’t need to see them clearly.

He knew exactly what each of them represented. For a few seconds, no one spoke. Then Graham’s voice echoed through the room again, calm, yet heavy with meaning: “Life... Death... Time... Chaos... Order... Hope... and Fear” Each word was spoken with a brief pause between them.

Graham’s words were so sudden that it took Dominic a moment to process them. The logic behind them simply didn’t fit in his mind. He frowned, a deep crease forming between his brows as his eyes turned toward Graham.

Graham, however, seemed completely oblivious to Dominic’s confusion. His eyes moved across the statues around them, examining them with an expression laced with irony. The soft light in the room touched the stone surfaces, casting long shadows that seemed to watch the two men in silence.

Then, slowly, Graham turned back to Dominic. The ironic smile never left his lips, if anything, it seemed to deepen slightly, curling at the corner of his mouth as if he were about to share something delightfully absurd: “Don’t you find it ironic, my dear Dominic?” he said, his voice light, almost amused.

Dominic didn’t respond. To him, there was no need. Silence felt more appropriate than any words he could offer. Graham, for his part, didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the lack of an answer. He continued speaking as though Dominic’s silence were just another irrelevant detail.

“Our entire existence... living like the blind” he said slowly, his voice heavy with contempt: “Humans have always considered themselves the center of everything. Greed drove them to wage war against each other... and the growth of their own intelligence only made them arrogant”

He slowly shook his head, letting out a faint sigh through his nose. The expression on his face made it clear how absurdly ridiculous he found it all, as though he were watching a tragic play performed by fools.

“In the end” he continued: “our very existence is only possible because of higher forces. And even knowing that... we still believe we can bind, shape, and control those very same forces”

The last words came out colder. Graham’s expression changed. His face lost any trace of emotion, and his eyes became completely dull, empty, like a bottomless lake reflecting nothing but darkness. For a brief moment, Dominic felt a chill run down the back of his neck.

His body reacted before his mind could process why. His muscles tensed. His legs nearly stepped back on instinct alone, as though something inside him were screaming to get away immediately.

But at the last second, he forced himself to stand firm. A drop of sweat slowly slid down his forehead. Another traced the side of his face. Seconds later, Graham concluded, his voice low and filled with contempt: “How pathetic... and how ugly humans can be”