In the spur of the moment, Erik didn't quite catch White's warning.
He didn't need to.
Ghastly howls echoed in the entire town, he didn't bother looking where it came from and ran for his life.
Grab!
Before he could do so, a white hand launched out of the beheaded statue, seizing his ankle.
"Damnation!" Erik no longer bothered talking inwardly. "Let go!" Trapped, he intuitively tried kicking the ghostly hand, his strike passed through the spiritual body part.
"This is so irrational!" He already knew why and still complained, needing to pant out his frustration. Ghosts could interact with him during convergences, he couldn't, maybe at a higher rank but not now.
The hand vanished in a cloud of miasma, the rift inside the statue must have closed. Lost souls could only temporarily act in the physical world during normal convergences, the short duration they spent in it could prove deadly.
Cracks in reality blocked the town's exit road, white hands surged out the rifts, those behind seeking passage to punish the trespasser.
"Shit."
Erik dashed into an adjacent street, the crackling of snow under his bare feet getting faster. More rifts blocked his path, faceless heads crawled out baring vengeful and desperate faces.
"I didn't break the statue on purpose!" He said, fleeing in another direction. "It was just too old!"
He took a turn, the way was blocked, another turn, blocked again.
Only one way left, White's path.
Erik sped towards the church, seeing rifts invisible in the physical world, he dodged floating hands appearing from random angles. Mid-air, underground, walls.
They were everywhere.
What he came to curse as a "convergence wall" barred his path once more, behind too. Ghosts called out to him.
"Kill him!"
"Take his body!"
"Leave us be!"
"Sonia! Sonia, where are you!?"
Not all wanted his death, some sought their children, others guidance he should provide as a shaman.
He ignored them all, what mattered more right now was his life.
Erik ran left, burst through a fractured glass window into a room, kicked the entrance door open, and dashed towards the corridor's end where a ran down wall offered an exit.
Two fully materialized ghosts blocked the way, he made a quick feint, going left and turning right at the last moment, dodging the first ghost. The second one guarded the exit, it stretched both hands at his throat missing him by a hair.
Erik jumped, stepped on the side wall, and ran on it, overruling gravity with his early-Warrior tier agility and strength. Before laws of physique pulled him down, he sauntered off the building, landing on the street a few meters below.
He felt his knees sending accusatory pain.
[Enhanced Speed] activated, he fled towards the place White had previously pointed. The church's main entrance was buried under meters of snow, he had to find another way in.
'There!'
Erik slid down a broken rose window and jumped inside the church, landing on soft snow that cushioned his fall.
'Wow,' despite the urgency, he couldn't help but spare a glance at the decoration that had endured a millennia of frost. It was dark inside, with poor sources of light originating from the rose window, and cracks or holes in the structure.
Thankfully, he could see in the dark with [Shaman Senses].
Columns of stones harboring raven sculptures supported the whole structure, it was already a feat none of them had crumbled after all these years without care. Decorative clay vines climbed pillars and cracked or broken stone flowers, fruits, and vegetables of various species sprouted on them.
A spot near the area he had landed seemed to be missing a statue that was the most important piece of this place.
'Is the statue outside originally from here? No, it's not important right now.' He got to his feet and scanned his surroundings in search of ghosts. Sure enough, they appeared, however, there were no signs of convergence inside.
Outside, rifts opened. He gazed at the broken rose window, no ghosts came in, only wails, prayers, accusations, and questions.
"Come out!"
"Please, forgive us."
"Who are you!?."
The ghost could enter the holy place in the spiritual world but seemed to be denied access in the physical world, convergence or not.
They gathered around him, white and blurry, hundreds of them. Erik passed through one, two, three, none grabbed him, it appeared he was genuinely safe inside.
'Okay, that's amongst the weirdest shit I've ever seen.'
He theorized that, since churches were places where gods had blessed their followers, remnants of their divine powers permeated the holy place, disturbing the convergence.
'Or not, I don't know.'
Erik deactivated [Shaman Senses] and the world regained colors as ghosts disappeared from view.
He knew they were there, in fact, he could hear them through the rifts outside, whispering, shouting, asking. Too many voices at the same time to make sense.
Erik ignored them, focusing on a way out of this mess.
If he stepped out, he died strangled, dismembered, or worse, possessed; although rare, a lost soul could kill someone and then possess their body. For that, they needed a convergence, just like now. If he stayed, he would die of hunger just like those frozen corpses spread around the church.
Apparently, he wasn't the only one who had taken refuge inside after an exhausting chase around the ruined town.
'Probably treasure hunters, bandits, or unfortunate travelers.'
He dug through human remains buried under snow that had fallen inside from cracks, holes or broken decorative windows, searching for anything helpful. Frozen body parts lay around the place. Blood turned into tiny red grains by the frigid weather.
'They all met the same end. Though I'm sure some managed to get out otherwise stories about this place wouldn't have spread. I understand now why objects were left untouched, no one can bring out anything.'
Amidst the macabre sight, Erik found three intermediate-rank healing potions, two low-rank stamina potions, pouches filled with coins, low-rank beast cores. Too much for him to carry, he only stored the potions in his underwear and continued his exploration.
'These will come in handy.'
That's when he found it in a corner of the church, a body with awe-so-familiar features nestled in beast fur, warm clothes probably stolen from the deceased.
"Ogram?" He rushed to his older brother's side, the ghastly voice haunting his eardrums. Erik unwrapped the coats, and underneath, a teenager looking 15 years old lay there. Eyes closed, blue lips, frost burn all over, red hand marks on ankles, neck, and arms. "This face and crimson hair, there is no mistake."
Erik sharpened his vision, Ogram's wyrd shone deem but shone nonetheless.
Although he owed his despicable brother nothing, he didn't want to turn out heartless like most of his siblings. Quickly fetching clothes of deceased people, he gathered them in a campfire fashion, then lit them ablaze with Caliber's knife to warm up Ogram.
"You better pay back this kindness later, eighth," he said, forcing half a healing potion down his brother's throat, smearing the remaining content on injuries.
That's when it hit him, the flames' light revealed more of his brother's pitiful state. Ogram appeared to have lost much weight and muscles as if he's been starving for weeks, perhaps months; taking into account he was a cultivator and Basara, that was possible.
'Why is he here, any—' Piecing back clues at his disposal, he emitted a theory. 'Is it possible that this place is the reason eighth finished his trial later than planned?'
If that were true, it'd explain many things.
Why the brother he knew had a drastic change in his personality after coming back from the Trial of the Beast. The ghosts could have left a trauma after months of staying in this place.
In Erik's previous life, Ogram had probably eaten human corpses to sustain himself, but in this life, the bodies looked untouched.
'Wildfather…,' Erik found himself empathizing with his brother for the first time in his two lives. Such an event could only leave a deep imprint on a child, even a Basara. 'Brother, why didn't you say anything?' He asked mentally, though knew the answer.
Ogram would never have talked about such a shameful moment, he'd be either ridiculed, mocked for being too weak, or accused of lying.
'But his examiner must have witnessed this moment and should have rescued him.'
If a Basara child encountered assassins or a situation far beyond his level like this one, the examiner would ensure their safety.
'I see only two possibilities, the examiner left him for dead or died trying to save him. Probably the latter.'
Ogram's examiner was certainly his butler, Liam, who would magically go missing during the Trial of the Beast. Liam was a rank 6 axeman, fairly strong but not nearly enough to fight against thousands of ghosts he couldn't touch.
'And where is his totem beast? How did he return alive? So many questions but that doesn't matter for now. I must find a way out or we'll both die here. What's the purpose of my shamanic knowledge if I can't do anything in this situati—' He paused his pondering, 'Nah, there is no way this would work, right?'
Erik went against his better judgment, channeled [Shaman Senses], and tried his best to look unfazed by the hundreds of ghosts surrounding him.
Looking calm mattered.
"Hear me, tormented souls," that came out weird, he knew not how to address them. "My name is Erik Basara!"
The voices softened, becoming whispers, then silence.
"I am the last shaman and perhaps your last hope of finding salvation."
…
The church shook, voices previously emitting different opinions united, their anger and rage erupting as one.
"BASARAAA!"
***
Lore Extract:
"I think I fucked up."
—Erik Basara.