Chapter 368: The Fishing Hole

“...At midnight, the Lord sent an angel who appeared in a dream, commanding him to erect a holy chapel there. Oberel felt doubt and dared not agree.”

“On the second night, the angel came again, speaking the same words. He dismissed it as coincidence and still did not believe.”

“On the third night, the angel touched his forehead with a finger—he immediately awoke, feeling pain, and found a hole upon touching it. He then understood the divine will was clear and dared not delay.”

Raymond flipped the book around and showed the illustrated page to the girl, who had been slightly distracted; the richly colored image instantly recaptured her attention.”

“On the day the chapel was completed, a clear spring gushed forth—those who drank it were healed of their ailments—this is the story of Bishop Oberel building the Spring Mountain Chapel.”

“Even today, over two hundred years after Oberel’s soul returned to heaven, Spring Mountain remains one of the most popular pilgrimage destinations. Every brother traveling to Shengcheng considers taking a slight detour, if possible, to obtain a vial of the spring water.”

“Have you ever been there?” The girl looked up, and the motion made Raymond realize she seemed taller than he remembered—sitting, she nearly met his eyes, almost reaching his eyebrows.”

“Oh, of course not. Usually, only the most outstanding are recommended for further study in Shengcheng—it’s a very distant place.” He felt no regret; he knew those people were the elite of their cohort, perhaps destined to inherit a bishop’s mitre.”

“Our cohort’s... was it Gelin ? But he ultimately chose the Inquisition. Many regretted it for him.”

“Why? Is the Inquisition not good?”

“No, all servants of the Lord are equal, but some can best realize their gifts only when placed in the right role.”

“Then why doesn’t the Lord give everyone equal gifts?”

The trouble with telling stories to children is that they always have endless questions—some of which are hard to answer.”

But as a trained monk, Raymond had a well-rehearsed response.”

“For the body cannot consist of only one limb. Can the eye say to the hand, ‘I have no need of you’? Can the head say to the foot, ‘I have no need of you’?”

“The Lord assigns every creature its proper place; His will cannot be rashly guessed. His profound wisdom is beyond mortal understanding—obedience is all that is required.”

Yifeng nodded, half-understanding, and returned the book. “Next?”

Raymond glanced out the window; the first rays of dawn had crested the mountain peak, illuminating the highest roof of the monastery. The rising chorus of prayers faded, replaced by the rumbling of empty stomachs.”

It was late—time for breakfast.”

“I’m afraid we must continue tomorrow. Eating on time and valuing food are also part of the Father’s teachings.”

The prayer room door remained shut; no one left yet. All waited for him to declare the morning prayer over, so they could hurry to the dining hall without breach of decorum.”

Unfortunately, the person who should have been here never appeared.”

Raymond sighed and waved his hand, signaling the gathering to disperse. The hall quickly emptied, leaving only two people.”

“Where is your mentor? Still unwell?”

“Oh, no, Mr. Kraft has recovered well.” Yifeng blinked, and on her face one could see the same casual indifference inherited from her mentor.”

“He said not to wait—he’ll come after finishing his rounds.”

“Then where is he?”

“Probably still making rounds?”

This morning, Kraft had been seen in the corridor near the ward, hurrying with a change of dressings; when asked whether he’d attend morning prayer, he’d given only a vague reply. Yifeng doubted he’d even heard her properly.”

“Only two patients? Why take so long?”

“Who knows? He operated on someone’s head yesterday—maybe he’s pouring revelations or enlightening their spirit? That takes time?”

“Raise your hand, resist my force—now switch to the other hand... yes, good, you can relax now. Upper limb strength is normal.”

Kraft pulled the blanket back over Dominic. The patient’s overall condition was stable; neurological examination showed no obvious abnormalities. But his mental state had shifted from yesterday’s agitation to listlessness—he lay there, dull and dejected, perfectly fitting the image of a sick man.”

“Now I’m going to ask you some questions. Answer based on instinct—don’t overthink.”

“What year is it? What season is it now?”

“Do you know where you are? Why are you here?”

“If the thumb is one, the index finger is two, then what number is the ring finger?”

“You take seventeen silver coins to buy food. You spend two on vegetables, four on meat. How many are left?”

Though he didn’t understand their purpose, Dominic answered each question in turn, hesitating only when asked about time and place—he finally gave a date from several days prior and believed he was still in some small chapel.”

According to Field, this was the second settlement chapel they had passed through; it was there that Dominic’s headaches had become noticeably more frequent and severe.”

Yet the patient’s memories of what followed were fragmented, like a puzzle missing key pieces, unable to form a coherent narrative. He showed little concern for what had happened, appearing depressed and pessimistic.”

“It may be asking too much, but we urgently need you to try recalling—what might you have discovered? If verbal recall is difficult, try sketching it by feel.”

Kraft helped him sit up and handed him a sketchboard and charcoal stick.”

His hand, immobilized by splints except for thumb and index finger, gripped the charcoal and moved across the board without hesitation. Charcoal scraped against rough paper, producing a rustle like insects fleeing before a storm.”

A circle, then a smaller one within it, spiraling inward layer after layer, until at the center formed a pitch-black, lightless point—his gaze involuntarily fixed, frozen, as if his soul were draining through the connection between pupil and vortex center.”

Kraft frowned and pulled the sketchboard away.”

Dominic’s wrist continued turning, leaving faint, interrupted arcs of rotation on the sheets until Field seized his hand and pulled the charcoal from his fingers.”

He anxiously helped his companion lie back down; it seemed the surgery had merely controlled the illness, not cured it.”

“This is the vortex you mentioned earlier?” Kraft turned the sketchboard over and over, studying it.”

Just now, he had faintly sensed something had been present—in Dominic’s gaze and strokes, appearing at an indescribable angle, not of the material plane, yet disrupted by it.”

His spiritual senses flared instantly, sweeping the room, catching only a fleeting trace—gone in an instant.”

The general location was unquestionably Dominic himself—but upon further probing, no residue remained.”

The sensation was so familiar he could be certain: he himself had been disturbed by it before.”

It did not resemble Dominic’s own corruption, but rather something using him to influence the material world.”

It reminded him of a widespread, unverified legend from the north:”

“During the long winter, beneath the frozen sea, schools of fish still glide, their scales glinting. Fishermen, following tradition, drill fishing holes through the ice.”

“But since some forgotten age, a conscious entity has emerged in the deep sea. Through those fishing holes—the circular fissures humans carved out of greed—it silently watches above.”

“At first, only a few fishermen claimed some ‘force’ seized their wrists and yanked them violently beneath the ice. People laughed, calling it drunkenness, distraction, or ice cracks. But each year, more vanished, leaving only unclaimed gear and claw marks along the ice’s edge.”

Scholars scoffed. After all, every winter, countless men in the north fell through the ice after drinking. To claim such a creature existed, it would have to appear simultaneously at hundreds of miles apart fishing holes.”

This clearly defied common sense.”

Yet in harbor taverns, another tale circulated: it was a being as long as the coastline, lying coiled in the abyssal trench at the continent’s edge. Its countless tentacles reached toward fishing holes grown too old, too wide, and thus noticed—snatching every wrist that grew too greedy.”

(End of Chapter)