“Or you can’t…?” Elmer nudged his brows downward, causing Craig to shudder visibly.

“I… I can!” Craig sniveled, his constant switching between uncontrollable anger and childish fear, making his salient lunacy to be quite pronounced. And it was those unanticipated actions which had compelled Elmer’s cautions to have climbed higher onto a greater level.

People who behaved like that were always taken to an asylum because of their unpredictability—and that was just normal people who had, in one way or another, become victims of mental illness. So someone who had tampered with the supernatural, had half his face sprawling with maggots, and then had that sort of crazy nature as a result of their body and soul being tainted was obviously a person to be fearful of.

Elmer made sure he was. And in the process, his mind suddenly had a bit of a wonder on what the Church usually did to the corrupted ones that were captured.

Was it possible to clear them of the corruption that had plagued them? Surely, the all-powerful Church should be capable of such, right?

And if that was not a feat they could achieve, showing that they were not as powerful as the world always made them out to be, then was it that they possibly had a special asylum dedicated to housing the corrupted ones? Or was something else—something more sinister—done to them?

Elmer had a shudder at the last thought.

Considering what had happened to him and Mabel, he could not rule the Church out from performing in such barbaric ways that should not be thought of or spoken of.

It did not matter if the Church of Time served a different God than the Church of Souls, they all shared the same views on the supernatural and followed the same rules. And since that was the case, then they no doubt went about most things the same way, if not all.

He was sort of glad that Ms. Edna and Eddie were not of the ranks of the Upper Echelon, which would have made them fully associated with the Church completely, and also caused them to dip their hands into the sort of cruel acts he and his sister had suffered.

If that had been the case, he would have had such a deep loathing for them.

It would not have been of the same kind he bore for the priests of the God of Souls, but the hate would have been there nonetheless, like it was currently for every single Upper Echelon in all the ten Churches.

To him, they were all savage creatures. Every single one.

“What’s keeping you from talking?” Elmer brought himself back from his mind to the scenery at hand as he barked with a lowered voice, while shifting his elbow forward, making sure Craig Wiley’s only remaining eye did not lose track of the revolver he was holding firmly in his hands.

“Ah! I said don’t shoot!” Craig cried as he threw his left arm over his face in response, taking on a frightened nature seemingly because of the revolver that was being aimed at him.

It was somewhat infuriating to Elmer—the constant switches of Craig Wiley. He could not effectively picture what reactions the man would have from his actions, and that made him nervous, since the man possessed an ability that could end his life in seconds.

At least, at this moment, the man was of the childish nature—the one he could exert some sort of dominance over—and he had to make use of it while it lasted.

“You said there’s no time,” Elmer spoke as he took a step forward. “You said you wanted to go home.” He took another. “If you’re really the one that I’m to help…” And another, his revolver firmly placed forward that you would think he’d had years of practice with it. “…Then I suggest you stop delaying and confirm that by speaking.” He halted then—after those words—his small movements having brought him somewhat halfway into the warehouse.

There were only a few, maybe twenty steps left, before he arrived at an arm’s length from the corrupted one.

He did not want that though. His steps forward had only been done to put more pressure on his words by cloaking himself with an outward appearance which gave the impression that he felt no dread for the man.

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Quite a great contrast from what his inner self had, considering the quivers his stomach was having, but if he was to control this whole situation, then this was what he had to do.

“I’m… I’m just having a hard time arranging my thoughts. It’s not my fault!” Craig sputtered.

“Why should you be having a hard time arranging your thoughts if you’re truly the one I’m to help? Or have you been lying?” Elmer remarked, making his tone completely flat so he would inflict a bit of fear into Craig Wiley.

Sort of risky, he knew, as fear put into a mentally unstable person could result in anger, and anger from a corrupted one would obviously do him anything but good.

But he had already made up his mind in the carriage to court death with all his might tonight. Looking at it in a brighter light, this was a very good chance.

“Why would I lie?!!” Craig sparked abruptly, confirming Elmer’s thoughts, and Elmer knew better than to let his body remain in any way relaxed at that. He instantly tensed up and raised his revolver above his chest. Craig shrank back once again as soon as Elmer tightened up his aiming stance. “No. Don’t shoot. I… I’m sorry. I have my thoughts ready now. I will talk. I will talk.”

Those words did nothing to relax Elmer though. He retained his cautious stance regardless.

“Then talk,” Elmer voiced.

“I… I did nothing wrong to anyone. I swear,” Craig Wiley spoke, his words coming forth to Elmer as some sort of gibberish, although he did not interrupt the man. “I suddenly became this way on the night Rose took our daughter and left me,” Craig stammered, his voice frail and his left hand still somewhat halfway over his face.

Elmer’s eyes narrowed.

Why was Craig mentioning his past? He did not care for that. All he wanted to know was how he and the messenger had come to meet each other and all they had spoken of.

But due to the insane nature of Craig Wiley, Elmer allowed him the liberty of pouring out everything. A small bother could cause the man’s memories to jumble up, and that would cost him.

“I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen. I was doing my best to provide for our family. Really. But jobs are hard to come by for illiterates like me. Even… Even those that are literate have a hard time. Andhera is a… is a very hard place to live in.”

Andhera…? Isn’t that the city of the God of Souls…?!

A sudden chill, which was in no way accustomed to the heavy rain pouring down from the sky, hit straight at Elmer’s core, causing his posture to turn stiff as a dazed look swept onto his face.

His eyes fell to the floor and darted for a few seconds before he suddenly flashed them back at Craig Wiley, his brows knitted fiercely in a frown.

He’s from Andhera… That means he’s a worshiper of the God of Souls…!

Elmer instantly had his reasoning slip from his hands like a bowl of sand poured into a basket. His mind became a muddled sea as a haze of rage surged into him, causing the voices that usually spoke logic into his ears to be drowned out almost to an extent that it would have felt like they might have never once existed.

Fury had come upon him, hastened his breathing, and gripped him so fiercely that his whole purpose for this night had begun to slowly dissipate. His thoughts narrowed into one thing as his forefinger moved closer and closer toward the trigger of his revolver: Kill the worshiper of the God who had ruined his life!

But that storm quickly settled down as Elmer forced himself to find a stable ground amidst the crazy chaos that had taken over his mind with a sharp gasp of realization.

He suddenly stiffened the muscles of his hand, putting a stop to his finger’s movement and stabilizing his raspy breathing. And it was then that his sense of reasoning returned.

Craig Wiley had had nothing to do with what had happened to him and Mabel that night. Why had such thoughts wandered into his head? Why had he all of a sudden become overcome by anger? What was that? Some sort of devilish mindset that was somewhere lodged in the back of his head, and would constantly come alive to force him to put an end to the lives of innocent people just because they worshiped the God he hated?

That was nonsense!

His loathing was only for those who had direct contacts with such activities. People who knew nothing about such should not be, in any way, victims of his revenge.

He could steal for his needs, lie, and do whatever he felt was necessary. But when it came to killing people who were in no way related to the supernatural or his loathing, that was where he had to draw the line. Mabel would never approve of that. She would never approve of him losing his humanity to that extent.

Successfully clearing his mind of that, other thoughts that he had seemingly blocked out in his fit of rage immediately took over him at once, causing his narrow eyes to widen considerably.

Hold on…! Since he’s from Andhera, doesn’t that mean the messenger is from Andhera as well…? But how is that possible…? How is it possible for someone from Andhera to know my name…?!