After steadying his mind, Connor pulled open the drawer and retrieved the blood-stained white shirt. He examined it for a moment, concluding inwardly that the excessive blood indicated Keifer had indeed tried to kill himself, although the reason remained a mystery.

Placing his hand on his bare chest, he noted his heartbeat was as unresponsive as ever.

Taking the shirt with him, Connor left the room and entered a rather cramped living room with an unusually low ceiling, barely a few feet above his head. The room was decorated with faded floral wallpaper and a brown patchwork sofa positioned in the center. Beside the sofa stood a three-legged stool holding a brown box, which Connor suspected was a radio.

In front of the sofa was a round glass table with a floral design etched into the surface. Atop the table sat a rotary dial telephone. Similar to the kitchen, the living room had black pipelines running along the top edges of the walls. The rest of the room was sparse, with only a brown door in the right corner and another in the left.

Connor guessed the former door led to the stairs and the streets, while the latter opened to another part of the apartment. It was a small apartment, indeed.

Not particularly interested in exploring further, Connor moved to the drawer on the right side of the room. From an iron hanger, he picked a fresh white linen shirt. He donned it quickly and made his way out of the apartment.

.....

Walking down the dimly lit corridor, barely illuminated by yellowish-orange lightbulbs that buzzed and flickered, Connor felt a surge of relief as he finally saw the outside world. The golden sun was partially obscured by dark clouds, hinting at pollution or impending rain.

Connor stepped onto the cobblestone streets, the moist and slightly wet pavement indicating earlier rainfall. Crowds bustled purposefully through the streets, their collective musky stench causing him to wrinkle his nose momentarily before he quickly acclimated to the odor.

Quietly and calmly, he blended into the throng, letting them guide him toward his destination, where the burning was to take place. Most people were dressed in black double-breasted coats, while the women wore long black dresses with intricate floral designs, adorned with ruffles and bows. Some rode in carriages, their wide-brimmed hats adding a unique flair. Many garments bore patches of other fabrics, hinting at a lack of money or the scarcity of clothes.

Connor observed the people around him as they moved along. Soon, they arrived at a section flanked by conjoined buildings in varying shades of red, black, and dark gray, all three to four stories high.

In front of them loomed a massive mansion with towering spires and grand towers reaching high into the sky. The mansion sat at the center of a fork in the road, where the path divided into two separate roads on either side. A crowd had gathered at the intersection, waiting for something.

Unable to see over the crowd, Connor squeezed his way to the front. His actions agitated some, but none retaliated, perhaps due to the excitement of the anticipated event or the knowledge that erratic behavior in Belle Square could lead to a stint in Belle Rose.

Reaching the front row, Connor finally saw the scene unfold. The musky scent of the crowd no longer bothered him. In the center of the square, atop a two-step stage, stood a woman tied to a pole. Surrounding her were five to seven individuals dressed in rough brown jackets and black trousers, each looking ragged and stern, their gazes piercing into the soul. They held long-muzzled rifles, standing at attention.

Are they some sort of guards? Connor wondered to himself,

Just then, the crowd erupted in rage.

"Burn the Heretic!"

"Purge her soul!"

"This is her curse for dining with the demons!"

People hurled stones and wood, their curses ringing out as they targeted the woman tied to the pole. They seemed to blame her for everything, even absurdly accusing her of turning off their stoves to ruin their muffins.

It was as if the sins of the world were being unloaded onto this one woman. Everything that had ever gone wrong was somehow her fault.

She was hit numerous times but did not scream or retaliate. Perhaps she believed that her tears would only serve as further proof of the accusations against her. At least, that's what Connor thought.

In front of the crowd, two individuals climbed onto the platform, overseeing the proceedings.

One was a man dressed in a baggy white robe with a large black belt embroidered with golden threads across his waist. He had dark hair, double eyelids, and a square jawline.

Unlike the crowd, he stood in silent contemplation, enforcing his presence through his stillness.

Taking the lead was another man dressed in a plain brown robe with a black rope belt around his waist. He looked less imposing compared to the white-robed figure.

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The brown-robed man glanced at his pocket watch before looking up at the sky as if awaiting a specific moment. He then coughed softly but with a piercing resonance.

As he parted his lips to speak, the frantic crowd instantly quieted down. The murmurs ceased, and even unnecessary movements became non-existent.

He must have considerable power in this place, Connor surmised, or perhaps his backing did.

"People of Canen City. The city of mountains and salt. We have found ourselves with yet another heretic. A maiden who has made bed with the demons and used your children's blood as a sacrifice to them. Many of you have lost your children, and some have even gone mad with the delusion that they somehow turned into salt." A soft chuckle echoed from his lips,

"I assure you, this is all the work of this heretic. She takes your children and drains them of their blood in other to fuel her occultic ways. She thinks she can acquire power while claiming these abyss creatures as God's..." The Middle-aged man paused for a moment before asking,

"My people of canen, is there such a thing as Gods?"

"No there is not!" The crowd roared in unison.

The middle-aged man smiled broadly before continuing, "Yes there is not. There is only one God and his many Lords. And although we worship the lords we all know that our worship is only truly returned to the one true god..." The man raised his palm to the sky and asked, "And who is the one true God?"

"The Ominipotent Primordial!" The crowd chimed in unison. Almost like a rehearsed play.

"That is true." The middle-aged man walked towards the woman tied to the pole and said, "My people, this city worships the Lord of Crafts under the primordial God. But this woman spites on our face, she throws salt over our eyes by claiming that these demons are gods...So my city what shall we do?"

"Burn her!"

"Purify and purge her!"

"End her. Let us see her demon gods try to save her."

The middle-aged man nodded his head before snapping his pocket watch open again, a smile curled up on his face.

"The time has come. We can not burn this woman in a golden world filled with color, she must experience her death in the gray day."

Perplexed by the man's specific choice of words, Connor was startled as the once vibrant city of color began to drown in shades of gray.

Instinctively, he looked up at the sky. The dark clouds, previously pierced by the golden sun, had dimmed. The brilliant golden radiance gradually turned pale white, casting an eerie whiteness over the world. The city's vibrant hues melded into a black-and-white canvas, but not entirely devoid of color. Instead, the sudden white sun had faded the colors, as if transforming them into a faint watercolor painting.

In less than a minute, the sky was no longer ruled by bright golden light but by a pale gray-white orb that cast its eerie glow onto the world below.

Connor stared at the gray sky. The familiar blue expanse had been enshrouded by a surreal gray veil.

This world is strange, but a white sun? Then again, a white sun is more down to earth than twin suns. And since nobody seemed startled by the change, it must be natural. At least, from their perspective. Considering the man was checking his watch, it must be something akin to an eclipse, but one that happens every day.

Connor's thoughts whirled as the city continued to fade into its monochrome reality, the eerie transformation seemingly routine to its inhabitants.

He grasped this from how many times the man checked his watch!

Just as the sun turned white, the crowd erupted like a herd plagued by insanity. It was strange to see sensible humans like this be brought to the lowest level of the mind, sinking into degeneration. Just from a superstitious belief.

But although it was strange, it wasn't surprising.

The scene of the people crying together melded and fused, echoing like a single entity.

"Oh you foul heretic, the people have spoken, you are condemned to death by the hands of the blazing lights!"

The woman tied to the pole started giggling frenziedly, tears bubbling with each burst of laughter. "You pigs! You think the blazing lights save you. You people don't even know what it is! They tell you that it is a marvel of mechanical craft... But no! If I'm a heretic in your eyes, then what are they? These people behind me carrying riffles. Huh? Do you people ever see them around the city? Are they guards? No!

If my seeking power makes me a heretic, then what about them? They hide themselves, but they exist, even that man in white robes, he also has power. True power!"The lady bit down on her lips and spat, "I curse you all, you stupid pigs being grown and fed like one. To become mere trials for the truly powerful! Curse you and your Lord. Curse you all and your fleshy skin!"

The priest in brown robes remained quiet, but the people were shouting with great agitation.

The words of the heretic only served to anger them. Causing them to pick up stones and throw them, shouting:

"Burn her with the blazing lights!"

"Purify her degeneration!"

As Connor watched the crowd descend into madness, he noticed that underneath the pole holding the woman had no wood or stone, nor anything that could act as a flammable.

What are they going to use? Do they have technological advancements like a laser beam here? Connor thought with a bit of hesitation. From the overall architecture and the number of horse carriages he saw packed at the side of the road, he came up with the initial deduction that this world had the technological level equivalent to the Victorian age back in his home world.

Although the phone and radio were an intriguing addition that contradicted his theory. He still believes that it didn't deviate far from the initial deduction.

Then, the priest's lips parted in her smile. He gestured with his left hand to one of the brown jacket-wearing men-carrying riffles. Subsequently, a man carrying a big brown case stepped forward.

The case was sprung open with a key from the priest. From it, the man pulled out an instrument, before turning around to face the crowd.

It was like a bendable pole of about 10 to 12 inches with silver rings around the body. The top of the pole had a spherical orb on it. The orb seemed translucent almost like it was made from some kind of glassy material. And the other end of the instrument was a flat stick, perhaps it was used to stand the object.

With the instrument, the priest turned to the heretic, raised it before her, and prayed in a solemn tone,

"Created by the unique inventor Blaze, You tarnished vile heretic, are therefore purged from this world!"

The translucent orb in the instrument suddenly burst out with bright brilliant golden light!

Brightening, the platform which was ruled by the gray light of the sun was instantly illuminated by the golden light.

It was like the priest was holding a great and destructive sun in his hands. The light gathered back into the instrument and shot out into the heretic!

The pole was instantly lit up with a surging pillar of flames.

The priest lowered his head and piously muttered, "The tarnishment has been cleared!"

Connor stared at the burning pole with the woman who screamed with all her might. As her bones scorched, her blood boiled and her skin melted like wax.

Barbaric. So barbaric.

This is a strange world. A deadly world. I suppose it's time to shed the identity of Connor.

So I suppose from now forth, I'm Keifer.