Back in Wisbech, he had once felt an invisible gaze before ultimately discovering the source of the gaze. However, it had never felt as crystal clear as what he was experiencing now!
This was the benefit of Auspex; an ability of a Hallowed!
To be precise, it was a culmination of two factors one was that he was a qualified sword saint and the other was that he was a Hallowed.
Marcellus fought back the urge to seek out the observer. Using his knowledge of the layout of Mythralis, he slowed his pace and drafted a course of action before looking toward the river.
Following that, he acted as if he was admiring the scenery as does every time, slowly turning his head in different directions. He acted natural as he turned around, taking in everything with his eyes and ears.
This was similar to echolocation!
Other than the trees, grassy undergrowth, and Islanders passing by in the distance, no other person was there.
But Marcellus was now certain that someone was watching him!
This… Marcellus's heart raced as his blood surged through his body with the intense thumping.
Meanwhile, he clenched his teeth and resisted the urge to place his hands on the hilt of his cutlass sword.
One step. Two steps. Three steps. Marcellus animated forward slowly.
The feeling of being spied upon remained, but there was no sudden outburst of danger.
He walked through the street in a somewhat rigid manner.
He originally planned on heading to the governor's residence immediately, but he was afraid of leading an observer of unknown motives to his flat. Following that, he thought of heading back to Aulus's place to seek refuge.
However, he thought otherwise, afraid that he would end up alerting his enemy and exposing the kindness of Aulus, plus he was an old man. Therefore, he casually chose somewhere else.
He exhaled slowly as he felt his limbs tingle slightly.
Ever Since he killed the Wereshark becoming a sword saint he had not felt such fear, no it wasn't fear it was dread.
What do I do?
What should I do next? Marcellus racked his brains for a solution.
Until he was clear about the intentions of the person watching him, Marcellus had to assume that there was malicious intent!
They had employed Mystical powers, otherwise, he would not feel such dread, His dread did not come from his instinct rather he could feel the Spiritual energy through his spiritual perception, and this feeling was amplified by his instinct and intuition as a sword saint.
Many thoughts sprang up in his mind, but he dismissed them. He had never experienced such an event and had to use a few minutes to organize his ideas.
Seven thugs had tried to steal from him before and he did not ever break a sweat. The biggest problem was he could not gauge the strength of the threat.
But I can't head there directly or I might expose them. Perhaps, that might be their goal…
Following this train of thought, Marcellus crudely surmised various possibilities as his thoughts turned clearer.
Ffffffff!
He exhaled as he regained some semblance of composure. He looked seriously at the scenery of the river bank.
He acted as though he had not sensed anything. He slowly made his way to the direction of the docks which was usually crowded.
Soon, he reached a street that stretched towards the vast expanse of the ocean, all the while aware that he was being trailed.
However, instead of venturing down that street, he opted for another path that led to a street just behind it. This route led him to a bustling square where islanders typically gathered for official engagements and various activities. Dominating the scene was an elegant building, rectangular in shape, adorned with four graceful circular pillars at its entrance. A flight of stairs extended from within—a Chapel!
Mythralis Chapel of Storm!
A prayer place of the Church of Storms!
As Marcellus had been here before, there was nothing odd about him participating in Mass or praying on his day off, It was a Sunday after all.
The Chapel of Storm stood as a humble yet weather-beaten structure on the island. Nestled amidst the rugged square and overlooking the restless sea, it was a place of worship that catered to the hearts and souls of those who called the island home.
The chapel was constructed from rough-hewn stone giving it a weathered and rustic appearance that seemed to blend seamlessly with the island's wild and untamed beauty. Its walls bore the scars of saltwater that had left a salty patina on its exterior.
Marcellus stepped into the cathedral and followed an aisle into the prayer hall. Along the way, the apertures were narrow and unadorned, allowing only dim light to filter in, casting a solemn atmosphere within.
The feeling of being watched vanished. Marcellus acted unfazed as he walked toward the open prayer hall.
Inside, the hall was equally unpretentious. Simple wooden pews lined the rugged stone floor, and tattered tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of tempestuous seas and mighty ships. A modest altar stood at the front, adorned with a few worn candles and a wooden figurine of a storm "Saint".
Even though Marcellus had always believed that gods could be analyzed and understood, he could not help but lower his head here.
The bishop was preaching in a gentle tone as Marcellus silently made his way down the aisle that split the pews into two columns. He searched for an empty area close to the passageway before slowly taking a seat.
Leaning his sword between his legs, Marcellus clasped his hands together, forming a tight fist. He then placed his elbows on his knees and lowered his head to rest against his balled-up fist.
The entire process was done slowly and routinely as though he was there to pray.
Marcellus closed his eyes as he silently listened to the priest's voice in the chapel.
"And when we allow lust, to overcome us towards some stranger or even somebody we know, then it is a lack of love in our hearts."
"We must recognize, It is a complete lack of love to turn somebody into the object of our lust."
"We must repent of this, recognize that our hearts are unloving. We need to change how we feel, how we feel towards everyone, and how our hearts experience other people."
"Similarly when we let rage consume us, whether it's directed at a foe or even those close to us, it is a lack of love in our hearts."
"We must recognize it as a complete lack of love to fashion our rage into a weapon against others."
"Is it love that we are allowing to grow within us? Is it the love of our Lord, or something distorted, something far removed from God's love?"
"In the midst of thunder and lightning, drenched by the relentless storm, seek solace in the Lord of Storms, for 'He' shall never abandon you; 'His' love shall forever embrace you."