SHAMAN PROTOCOL
Chapter 69: Paradox of Time

Chapter 69: Paradox of Time

Mikel followed the priest quietly, glancing at the chapel where the nuns were praying. Their hands were pressed together, rosaries wrapped around them. Their mouths moved, but barely any sound came out.

This feels like a horror film setup, he thought, eyes settling on the priest’s slightly hunched back.

The priest remained silent, their steps echoing faintly across the stone floor.

Soon, they reached a door.

"You wait here, Haleth," said the priest, giving him a slight nod. "I’ll still scold you once this is over."

Mikel’s face twitched, and he nodded as he watched the priest press a hand against the door. When it creaked open, voices drifted out from inside.

"Hmm?" he hummed as the door closed behind the priest, catching a glimpse of a few robed figures. "I didn’t know there were more than one priest in a church."

He shook his head, then looked around.

"I have no time to waste here," he muttered until his attention fell back to the door.

Mikel approached it carefully, pressing his ear against it. But the wood was thick, muffling the conversation inside. So, he pushed it lightly, just enough to create a gap so he could hear through.

If he was right, the angry mob would rally here tonight.

And everyone inside... would die.

"The Pope already reached out. They’re requesting Haleth be surrendered," one voice said, quickly piquing Mikel’s interest. "Keeping him here is no longer ideal. Haleth sees what others cannot... and people are afraid of him."

"We originally agreed to keep him here because the church is isolated," another voice added. "But now the townsfolk are starting to talk. After the last incident, the church is concerned."

"Reverend, we know you believe in Haleth’s faith. But that boy... that boy is cursed."

Mikel’s brows furrowed. He pushed the door open a little wider to peek inside. Five priests sat around the table, including the elder who had brought him here—the Reverend.

The Reverend sighed. "Haleth is not cursed. It’s a gift. If the townspeople are asking questions, then I—as head priest—will address it on the next public mass."

"Reverend!" one of the priests shot up from his seat, tone laced with protest.

Mikel blinked and gently closed the door, slinking away. He had heard enough to piece it all together.

"It seems Haleth... is a born shaman," he muttered, walking off. He needed to retrieve his lantern—the damn thing was burning faster than it should’ve.

As he turned to leave, he spotted a group of nuns walking in his direction.

He lowered his head and moved aside to let them pass. His steps slowed until he froze mid-stride, heart pounding. From the corner of his eye, he saw her.

A blindfolded nun.

Mikel turned his head, his gaze locking on her back. His shoulders tensed, mouth parting slightly as it quivered.

He wanted to call out and confirm... but he didn’t need to.

His soul remembered that rotten presence—the same one he had faced not long ago. He’d never mistake it, even in Haleth’s Memory Echo.

His hand trembled.

"Not now," he whispered to himself, clenching his trembling hand. "Next time... the next time I see them... I’ll end that tank top guy. Then, her."

Even as his blood boiled, Mikel knew it was too early. They’d shown him just how wide the gap between their power and his really was.

He wasn’t ready yet—but next time, he would be.

Clenching his teeth, Mikel turned and walked away.

His eyes burned.

This would be the first time he walked away from them... and the last.

---

Once Mikel reached the entrance, he glanced left and right to make sure no one was watching. When the coast was clear, he quietly opened the door and checked the lantern hanging outside.

He reached out and unhooked it. As soon as he grabbed it, a howl in the wind echoed behind him. Instinctively, Mikel turned toward the forest surrounding the chapel.

He narrowed his eyes, catching flickering lights in the distance.

"They’re here," he whispered, freezing for a second. "Screw it!"

Mikel rushed back in, considering warning the priests and nuns about the mob. It might save them. But alas, he was wrong... and it was too late.

Returning to the room where the priests had gathered, Mikel didn’t bother knocking. He kicked the door open and shouted:

"There’s an angry mob heading this way—!"

His voice stopped in his throat at the sight before him.

There, the priests were still seated, but slumped lifelessly over the table. Some hung over the armrests, blood dripping from their robes.

"What the hell?" he whispered, taking a step back. "How come they’re—?"

He didn’t get to finish, as a figure from the corner of his eye turned up on his side.

Mikel held his breath before he turned his head.

A blindfolded nun stood several steps from him.

"Haleth?" she said sweetly, smiling. "The abbey told me to relay a message to the Reverend."

Mikel stood frozen, eyes wide as he stared at her bloodstained robes.

"Is he there?"

"You psycho..." he hissed.

She chuckled. "Haleth, that’s not very nice. The Reverend won’t be happy to hear that."

He gritted his teeth—but before he could react, his feet were already moving, running away.

Why am I running?!

But this wasn’t his body—this was Haleth’s memory. He had no control, not over moments this significant. The flame in his lantern flickered with every step but held steady.

He reached the main door and tried to open it. It rattled, but didn’t budge.

"How—?"

Suddenly, pews flew across the chapel in a gust of wind, slamming against the windows—and him, on top of them.

"Ack—!"

The air was knocked out of his lungs as he crashed into the wood, a sharp pain jabbing his ribs. The glass around the lantern shattered, but somehow, the flame remained.

When he looked up, she stood on the altar.

"Oh?" she mused, cupping her face with a smile. "Haleth, I didn’t know you had this side to you. I never imagined you glaring at someone... even with that deformed face of yours."

The corners of her mouth curled.

"Do you know that when you were born, you didn’t have such a deformity?"

"Ugh..." Mikel groaned, trying to push himself up. He didn’t realize it, but from her perspective, Haleth wasn’t just a healthy teen—he was an unnaturally large boy, with a face so misshapen it was better left hidden forever.

"Monsters!"

"Occult!"

"Burn them!"

At the same time, angry voices echoed from outside the chapel.

Mikel gripped the edge of a pew that was blocking the window and turned toward the narrow gap in the pile. Through it, he caught a glimpse of someone.

His eyes widened.

"What?"

Outside, drenched from head to toe, Mikel had just emerged from the trees.

"Hey!" the real Mikel shouted. "Not in there! Hey—don’t!!"

But before anything could give a proper signal to himself, who was outside the chapel, flames erupted from outside.