Chapter 22 — Light and Shadow
For the past few days, Ethan's mind had been completely occupied by one thing: Holy Light and Shadow.
He had no choice but to think about it. The moment he imagined "Old Gods" or "Void Lords" possibly watching him from somewhere beyond reality, he couldn't sit still. He didn't even dare cast a simple Renew anymore, afraid that one careless spell might accidentally "establish a connection" with some cosmic horror hotline.
Void Lords were beings of pure consciousness—entities so overwhelmingly powerful they couldn't enter the physical universe directly, trapped instead within the Void.
The Old Gods, on the other hand, were their claws—creatures with physical forms, responsible for corruption and warfare in the material realm.
And Ethan? He was just a tiny priest.
He probably wouldn't even qualify as an appetizer for an Old God's underling.
That day, after exhausting his Holy Light and drifting into a half-delirious state, he had faintly heard something—
Void whispers.
Like temptation from some distant ancient being, promising power.
Thankfully, he snapped out of it quickly before the whisper could take root.
Terrifying. He needed a countermeasure.
After long and extremely serious contemplation, he arrived at what he considered a flawless conclusion:
If running out of Holy Light lets Shadow take advantage…
Then what if he does the opposite?
Use up all the Shadow. Let the Holy Light push back and dominate.
Problem solved, right?
He immediately began testing.
The result?
His mana ran dry.
His stamina dipped.
His brain felt like overcooked noodles.
But the Shadow?
Not only did it not decrease—
It felt thicker.
Denser.
Like it had just hit the gym.
"…You have got to be kidding me."
Ethan stared at his palm, where dark mist coiled lazily like it paid rent there.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Old Gods, Void Lords, whatever you are? Why does trying to purge you make you stronger? Do you just have infinite stock or something?"
He dragged a hand down his face.
"And why are you so obsessed with me? I'm a small-town priest with a clinic and back pain. You planning to conquer Earth through me? Is that the master plan?"
Ethan clutched his head and let out a long, defeated sigh.
Why was it that gaining the power of the Holy Light came with a list of requirements longer than a medical insurance form?
You needed unwavering, pure faith.
You had to live by the three foundations: justice, hope, compassion.
You had to constantly temper yourself through thought and action—showing respect, empathy, and perseverance.
And Shadow?
You basically waved at an Old God or a Void Lord and they went, "Delivery for Ethan!"
"Ridiculous," he muttered. "Everyone wants shortcuts. How many people can actually resist temptation?"
No wonder priests had such a high corruption rate. One bad thought and—boom—edge-lord origin story.
The idea of "using up" Shadow energy was officially a failure.
The stuff only got stronger the more he used it—and worse, it felt good. A few more sessions and he'd probably end up as the Void's official Earth spokesperson.
So. Back to grinding Holy Light the honest way.
Ethan chewed on his pen while writing notes, mumbling to himself.
"Respect? I've got that. I respect every patient's choice—even when they choose to stop treatment."
"Compassion… yeah, that counts. I've treated drug dealers, gang bosses, and a suicidal accountant."
"Perseverance? My clinic is still hundreds of thousands in debt and I'm still here. If that's not perseverance, what is?"
He threw the pen down and leaned back.
"So where's the problem? I meet all three criteria. The Light should be mailing me a badge."
He frowned at the paper.
"This makes no sense. I follow the creed, act like a decent human being, care about people—and the more I believe, the more drained I get."
He thought about how priests and archbishops always said, "The Light is with you."
He rolled the phrase around in his head, then let out a self-mocking laugh.
"So the Light isn't a reward for belief… it's emotional resonance? It only responds when you actually feel it?"
That thought gave him a headache. He decided to stop overthinking and get some air.
---
When Ethan stepped out of his room, he realized it was already morning. Too many experiments lately—his sleep schedule was completely wrecked.
In the living room, Sheldon was busy at the stove.
"Morning," Ethan said.
"Morning," Leonard replied.
"Good morning," Sheldon added.
Ethan glanced at the frying pan. "You're making scrambled eggs? That's not on your breakfast schedule."
Sheldon didn't look up. "This is not breakfast. This is an experiment."
"…It looks very breakfast-shaped."
Sheldon flipped the eggs with scientific seriousness. "I finally have time to test my theory about separating water molecules from protein structures and its effect on texture."
"Wow. Delicious already," Ethan muttered.
Leonard sighed. "I'm very excited to see how it pairs with bacon."
"So am I," Sheldon nodded gravely.
Ethan lowered his voice. "What happened?"
Leonard shrugged. "He got fired by the new department head."
"Oh." Ethan winced. "What did he do?"
Leonard counted on his fingers. "Called the department head an 'overrated humanoid primate.' Also said his last successful experiment was igniting his own flatulence."
Sheldon defended himself. "I did preface it with 'with all due respect.'"
Ethan closed his eyes briefly.
Leonard tried, "If you just apologize to Dr. Gablehauser, he'll probably give you your job back."
"I don't want my job back," Sheldon said calmly. "This is my first real break in over a decade. I intend to enjoy it."
Leonard sighed and gave up. "Fine. Go back to your eggs."
Sheldon corrected him solemnly. "Not my eggs. These are humanity's eggs."
"Humanity thanks you," Leonard replied flatly.
Ethan was still lost in thought when Sheldon suddenly asked, "Would you like to try some?"
Ethan blinked. "Uh… sure."
Sheldon plated two portions. They sat down and took a bite.
Instantly, Ethan tasted something metallic and faintly fishy. No creamy egg flavor. No warmth. Just… regret.
He and Sheldon looked at each other.
Sheldon nodded thoughtfully. "Excellent. First trial yields crucial data: we should use fresh eggs."
Right on cue, a cheerful voice came from the door.
"Hi!" Penny stepped in. "Oh hey, Ethan! Long time no see."
He turned. Pink T-shirt, floral shorts, bag slung over her shoulder—casual summer energy, like sunshine with attitude.
"Hey, Penny," he smiled.
"I'm heading to the grocery store. You guys need anything?"
Ethan shook his head.
Sheldon's eyes lit up. "This is one of those events people unfamiliar with mathematical probability would call a 'coincidence.'"
Penny blinked. "What?"
"I require eggs. Four dozen."
"…Excuse me?"
"Yes. Brown, white, free-range, large, extra-large, and jumbo. Eight of each."
Penny narrowed her eyes. "Say that again?"
Ethan jumped in. "Sheldon, she's not a computer. Write it down."
Sheldon waved dismissively. "You'll get it wrong. I should accompany you."
Penny looked exhausted already. "Fine. If you have to."
She shot Ethan a desperate look.
He raised both hands. I cannot save you.
She tried again. "Ethan. Please?"
He sighed and stood. "Alright."
Compassion was, after all, one of the Light's core principles.