These days, Ethan can't think about anything but Holy Light and Shadow.
He has to think; the moment he imagines those Elder Gods or Void Lords watching him from the dark, he can't sit still. He doesn't dare cast a random Healing Spell, terrified he might accidentally connect to one of those "big shots."
The Void Lords are pure conceptual beings; their power is too immense to enter the material Universe directly, so they remain trapped in the Realm of Shadow.
The Elder Gods are the claws of the Void Lords, possessing physical forms and tasked with corrupting and fighting on the material plane.
A small priest like Ethan probably wouldn't last a second against even the minions of an Elder God.
The day he used Holy Light and slipped into a trance, he faintly heard the "Whispers of the Void"—the temptation of some Elder God promising power.
Luckily he came to his senses quickly and didn't let the whispers continue.
Too terrifying; he had to find a countermeasure.
After much deliberation he reached an airtight conclusion:
Since exhausting Holy Light lets Shadow slip in, what about the reverse?
Exhaust the Shadow, let Holy Light counterattack and take the upper hand—problem solved.
He began testing at once, but the result was:
His mana was completely spent, yet the Shadow energy hadn't diminished in the least; in fact, it seemed… even thicker.
"Damn it, you Elder Gods and Void Lords—why do you keep multiplying the more I purge! Is your power so abundant you've got nowhere to put it?"
"Why pick on a little priest like me? Are you counting on me to help you conquer Earth?"
Ethan buried his face in his hands and sighed, utterly speechless.
Why are the requirements for obtaining Holy Light so stringent:
One must possess an extremely firm and pure faith;
Uphold the three cornerstones of "Justice," "Hope," and "Mercy";
And constantly temper and strengthen them through concrete actions and thought, achieving "Respect, Compassion, Fortitude."
To obtain Shadow power, you just greet an Elder God or a Void Lord and they deliver it to your door.
"Totally unfair," he grumbled. "Everyone wants a shortcut—how many can resist temptation?"
No wonder priests fall so easily… one stray thought and you're corrupted.
His idea of consuming Shadow energy was declared a failure.
The more he used it, the more it grew and the better it felt; a few more times and he'd probably become Earth's GG spokesperson for the Void.
He had to train Holy Light honestly.
Ethan chewed on his pen, writing and muttering:
"Respect—I have it. I respect every Patient's choice, even if they choose to give up treatment."
"Compassion… got that too, right? I save people every day—drug dealers, mob bosses, and accountants trying to jump off buildings."
"Fortitude? Even more so—the Clinic still owes hundreds of thousands, and I'm still hanging in there. Isn't that fortitude enough?"
He flung the pen down and leaned back in his chair.
"So where's the problem? All three conditions met—Holy Light should be so moved it mails me a badge."
"This thing has no logic," he frowned. "I keep the creed, act upright, love my neighbor—and the firmer my belief, the weaker I get."
He stared at the paper, recalling the words and deeds of those priests and archbishops: "May the Light be with you…"
He savored the phrase, then gave a wry smile: "So Holy Light isn't a reward for faith, but resonance of emotion? It only responds when you truly 'feel' it?"
He decided to stop thinking and step out for some air.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ethan left his room only to find it was already daylight—recent experiments had flipped his days and nights.
In the living room, Sheldon was busy in front of a frying pan.
"Morning," Ethan greeted.
"Morning," Leonard looked up.
"Morning," Sheldon replied.
Ethan glanced at the eggs in the pan. "Scrambled eggs for breakfast? That's not on your daily breakfast schedule."
Without looking up, Sheldon said, "This isn't breakfast, it's an experiment."
"Looks a lot like breakfast."
Sheldon flipped the eggs and explained earnestly, "I finally have time to test my theory: separating water molecules from protein to see the effect on texture."
"Sounds appetizing," Ethan said, unsure how to respond.
Leonard sighed. "I can't wait to see what happens when he adds bacon."
Sheldon nodded seriously. "So can I."
Ethan whispered to Leonard, "What happened?"
Leonard shrugged. "The new department head fired him."
"Huh?" Ethan was surprised—he vaguely recalled something like this. "What did he do?"
"You called the department head 'an overrated primate'," Leonard said, "and said his last successful experiment was lighting his own fart."
Sheldon protested, "But I prefaced it with 'with all due respect'."
Ethan was speechless.
Leonard told Sheldon, "I'm sure if you apologize to Dr. Gablehauser, he'll let you come back."
Sheldon answered, "I don't want to go back. This is the first vacation I've had in decades—I'm going to enjoy it."
"All right!" Leonard shrugged and motioned to Ethan to try persuading him. "Go back to your eggs."
Sheldon corrected solemnly, "Not my eggs—eggs for all humanity."
Leonard: "We're all grateful."
Ethan stood quietly, thinking.
Sheldon interrupted, "Want to try some?"
Startled, Ethan looked at the decent-looking eggs. "Sure."
Sheldon took two plates, divided the eggs, set them on the coffee table, and they began to taste.
One bite and Ethan caught a slightly fishy, metallic flavor—no hint of egg's usual faint milk or grain aroma.
He met Sheldon's eyes.
Sheldon: "Excellent—first attempt teaches the most valuable lesson: use fresh eggs."
"Hey!" Penny knocked and walked in, bright as ever. "Oh, Ethan, you're here—long time no see."
Ethan turned—she wore a pink tee, floral shorts, a bag slung over her shoulder, radiating casual summer vibes.
"Hi, Penny," Ethan answered, pleasantly surprised.
"I'm headed to the supermarket—need anything?"
Ethan shook his head. Sheldon's eyes lit with amazement: "This is what people unfamiliar with mathematical laws call a 'coincidence'."
Penny looked blank. "What?"
Sheldon explained solemnly, "I need eggs—four dozen should suffice."
"What? Four dozen?"
"Yes: brown, white, free-range, large, extra-large, jumbo—eight of each."
"Right." Penny narrowed her eyes. "Say that again?"
Ethan cut in, "Sheldon, she's not a computer—write it down for her."
Sheldon waved it off. "Forget it—you'd get it wrong. I'd better come with you."
Penny sighed. "Fine, let's go."
She glanced at Ethan.
Ethan spread his hands: can't save you.
Penny gave a final pleading look. "Ethan, please?"
Ethan sighed. "All right." Compassion is one of Holy Light's creeds.