Meanwhile, back on Earth, Tcenex and Adamma eventually arrived at the sprawling mud-fenced compound of the Ashram of Nri. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the dusty grounds as they approached.
People crowded the compound, scattered throughout like fallen leaves—some seated cross-legged on woven mats, others standing in small clusters, while many simply wandered aimlessly about.
Despite their varied postures and activities, a single common thread united them all: anticipation. They waited with the particular patience of the desperate, their eyes occasionally darting toward the inner sanctum. Waiting for something. For someone. For hope.
These seekers had gathered to consult the Oracle of Nri, variously known as the Chief Priest or High Priest of Nri among the locals. The Oracle commanded tremendous respect, regarded by his people as a Spirit-Man; a Spirit-Walker; a Man-God who straddled the realms of flesh and spirit.
His remarkable psychic gifts had elevated him far above ordinary men in both influence and accomplishment. Through his communion with the gods, he had earned the prestigious title of Doctor of Divinity, bestowed upon him by other Diviners who recognized his exceptional psychic authority.
Little wonder, then, that his compound overflowed daily with troubled souls seeking remedies for their spiritual or material afflictions. Many had camped there for days, some even weeks—their determination to be granted an audience unwavering despite the long wait.
Every person who noticed Tcenex cast him suspicious, sidelong glances, their eyes lingering on his peculiar attire. His unusual garments marked him clearly as an outsider, yet these stares didn't disturb him in the slightest. In fact, he found their bewilderment quietly amusing, the corners of his mouth occasionally twitching upward when he caught someone's wide-eyed gaze.
What truly troubled him, however, was the intense electromagnetic flux interference permeating the atmosphere. It had assaulted his senses the moment he stepped into the compound—a powerful energy surge washing over him like a tidal wave. Waves of highly disturbing energy-clusters bounced chaotically throughout the space, creating sporadic splatters of force that made his skin tingle uncomfortably.
"How could anyone withstand such an energy surge?" he mused, his brow furrowing slightly. He turned toward Adamma, studying her face for signs of discomfort, but she appeared as unaffected as a lazy dog basking in the sun. "How could she not feel anything?" he ruminated, his puzzlement deepening as he observed her calm demeanor amid what felt to him like standing in the center of an electrical storm.
He attempted to block out these people's troubled thoughts, but his efforts proved futile. Suddenly, memories of his Super-Sage training in Chiology classes surfaced—those rigorous sessions where he had earned his Chi-Master designation.
An important realization dawned on him: the mind, being a form of energy, cannot simply be deactivated or suppressed; it can only be redirected or transformed into alternative thought patterns. With this understanding, Tcenex surrendered to his mental processes, allowing his thoughts to flow naturally.
His trained consciousness revealed disturbing insights—most individuals around him suffered from complex multidimensional issues. Entity energetic attachments clung to their psyches like parasites, draining their vitality and feeding on their deepest fears and perceived failures. These disembodied entities, lacking physical forms of their own, desperately sought nourishment through human hosts. They manipulated their unwitting victims, using their physical bodies as vessels for material interactions they couldn't otherwise achieve.
"Arcons," he whispered, recognizing the energetic vampirism at work here. A chill ran down his spine despite his professional detachment. His extensive training at the School of Monastery Cadetship had prepared him for such phenomena—the rigorous disciplines, the sleepless nights of meditation, the painful energy exercises—all had shaped him into a Chi-Master and Super-Sage equipped to handle these precise situations.
Yet as he scanned the crowd, a profound unease settled in his stomach. Never before had he witnessed such a concentration of psychic infestations in one location. The sheer number of affected individuals disturbed him deeply. On his home planet, such widespread psychic attacks were unheard of, making this situation not just troubling but potentially dangerous on a scale he hadn't previously encountered.
More demoralizing was that these poor people gave these entities the permissions and powers to treat then cruelly as though they were slaves, through their belief systems. The pains, the emotional traumas were simply too much. The pains were not his to feel, but he felt then nevertheless.
Empathy.
That's what it's called. Tcenex recalled studying this concept in his Emotional Intelligence class—the art of stepping into another person's emotional shoes, feeling what they feel beneath the surface.
One of the individuals awaiting the Oracle's attention caught Tcenex's eye. He had observed this particular man earlier and sensed something peculiar about him. Yes! The man's mind appeared fractured, his thoughts scattered like broken glass across a shadowed floor.
"Madness," Tcenex gleaned from a neighbor's cautious thoughts as they watched the strange man with wary eyes. That's what they labeled it here. But what Tcenex perceived went deeper — a case of profound mental instability stemming from the Arcons — known to these people as Demons — the poor soul battled within himself.
These weren't metaphorical demons but literal entities dwelling inside him, clawing at his consciousness. They numbered many—seventy-two that Tcenex could count, with others lurking in the darkest recesses of the man's mind, hiding from Tcenex's probing awareness.
The man's body had become an asylum, a pocket dimension where these malevolent entities gathered to feast upon his diminishing life force. Tcenex could see traces of who this man once was—an energetic personality brimming with vitality, possessing enough vigor to share generously with others and still have abundance left for himself. His eyes, though now hollow, still held faint embers of his former brilliance.
His downfall had come through dabbling in dark sorcery, rituals that demanded human sacrifice in his desperate pursuit of fortune and fame.
The blood on his hands had sealed a terrible bargain with Ekwensu, a notorious entity feared even among other demons.
Tcenex shuddered as he sensed the binding chains of this unholy contract, still pulsing with malevolent energy around the man's fading aura.