76 Saint Mary's Orphanage - 1900: Part 1
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻ 2 Months Prior: Gu World ⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
Within Xie Ling's mind, Hunter voiced his concerns, pertaining to the consequences of filling the Gu with an abundance of fighting spirit, "If we were to fill the Gu primarily with fighting spirit, it would hinder how many commands we can imbue within them. That would leave us in a tight spot on account of our primary method of use when refining Gu being commands."
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻ 3 Months Prior: Dream ⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
"Extra, extra! Hurricane claims over 6000 lives in Galveston!" proclaimed a young boy, his voice echoing through the streets as he distributed newspapers.
Approaching the boy, a man clad in a black suit inquired, "What's the latest scoop?"
The boy cast a sidelong glance as he tapped the newspaper with a mischievous glint in his eye, while with his other hand, he rubbed his fingers together expectantly. "First, buy a newspaper, then we talk," he quipped.
Rolling his eyes, the man fished out a penny from his pocket and flung it towards the boy. "Speak."
The boy deftly caught the coin, and with a smug grin, shared a tidbit. "They say the hurricane's primary target was none other than St. Mary's Orphanage. The aftermath revealed a grisly sight: 100 corpses entwined by rope, comprising 90 children and 10 nuns." He paused, once again rubbing his fingers together. Another coin gracefully found its way into his hands.
With a smirk, the boy continued, "But that's just the commonplace news. The truly peculiar discovery was a ritualistic formation within a well, adjacent to the church."
- Galveston Cemetery: One hour before the Hurricane -
Standing before a tombstone bearing the inscription 'Reverend John: 1840-1875,' a man in a hunter's garb spoke frankly, "They claim you saved my life, so on this day of your passing, my... 'rebirth' so to say, I have come to express my gratitude. Thank you for bestowing upon me the gift of life."
His gaze turned skyward as he sighed, his emotions mingling with the breeze. "Initially, I resented you for saving me, for I had been adopted into a family of hunters—or rather, a façade for their nefarious business as hitmen." Contempt contorted his features. "Who in their right mind raises a child to become a hitman?"
He let out a bitter scoff, shaking his head in disdain. "And that's not even the worst part. The truth is, I relished it. It felt as though I was born to snuff out lives." A solitary tear found its way down his cheek. "But, I digress. The past is behind me now. I made sure of it." He turned his gaze to his left, where a freshly dug grave housed two body bags.
Nodding his head reminiscently, he divulged, "I am now known as John Hunter, the first half is out of respect for you who saved my life, the second half is a stain on myself for my past."
-
Beneath the depths of St. Mary's Orphanage, a man's sadistic laughter reverberated. "HmHmHm, HAHAHA! I have achieved it! Fortune has smiled upon me! The stars, the moon, the planets—all aligned! Once this day draws to a close, I shall ascend as the supreme grand sorcerer!" The voice belonged to Barvest, the grand elder of the Baal Church, who, by a twist of fate, stood as its sole surviving member.
"The witch hunt in 1600 may have decimated my entire flock and forced me into seclusion, but it bestowed upon me two invaluable gifts. Firstly, a clean slate—no living soul remembers my existence from that era. Secondly, this!" His lips curled into a wide grin as his eyes fixated devilishly on a crystal orb.
"By trading souls, it grants me power. Naturally, I have yet to unlock its full potential, for I am certain it conceals many secrets that I have yet to unravel." His countenance darkened. "However, capturing souls for it to devour requires many complex techniques, It is far from the simple act of snuffing out lives."
His gaze shifted toward a meticulously crafted formation woven into a carpet on the ground as he muttered to himself, "I have improved the formation since 'the incident'—now it can ensnare both men and women. With this hurricane, a thousand souls, perhaps even ten thousand."
-
John Hunter cordially greeted the nuns while retrieving pieces of deer meat from his sack to share with the children. "I heard you'll be hosting a celebration for the kids today. If it's alright, might I join in?"
Cleo, affectionately known as Sister Cleo by the children, responded, "Certainly, our doors are always open to the Hunter family."
John involuntarily choked on his own saliva, taken aback by the remark. He nervously stammered, "Yes... The Hunter family."
Cleo chuckled playfully, extending an apology. "It would appear the rumors of you being afraid of your parents are true. Fear not, your parents will not be in attendance."
Suddenly, the sky darkened, cloaking the orphanage in an ominous shroud.
Cleo quickly instructed everyone to seek refuge inside and await the passing of the storm. However, just as they were about to enter the orphanage, the winds grew fierce, uprooting a small tree and flinging it at one of the nuns.
"To the basement!" shouted Cleo as she guided them to the basement—a place sealed off for years due to rumors of a lurking demon. Amid the chaos, they discovered a large rug stretching across the entire room, adorned with countless enigmatic symbols and patterns. However, considering the danger of their situation, this held little importance to them.
Surveying its surroundings, Cleo located a rope and proceeded to tether everyone, including itself, to a sturdy pillar, hoping to anchor them to the ground should the orphanage be torn asunder.
Outside the orphanage, John Hunter noticed a figure clad in mysterious robes climbing out of a hole in the ground. He called out, attempting to inform the individual of the orphanage's potential as a shelter. However, the man either didn't notice or was too preoccupied with other matters, leaving John perplexed. Nevertheless, he resolved to chase after the man.
-
Emerging from one of his hidden escape tunnels, Barvest muttered to himself, "I must get out of here before matters spiral out of control. The water well situated on the eastern side of the orphanage should be perfect for this." Deafened by thunderous roars and the howling tempest, he remained oblivious to John's desperate calls, leaving him oblivious to the fact that he was being trailed.
