Chapter 22 – Light and Shadow
These days, Ethan can't stop obsessing over Holy Light and Shadow magic.
He has to obsess; the moment he imagines those Old Gods or Void Lords watching him from beyond the veil of reality, he can't sit still. He doesn't dare cast even a simple Healing spell, terrified he might accidentally ping one of those cosmic horrors.
The Void Lords are pure conceptual entities; their power is too immense to manifest directly in the physical universe, so they remain imprisoned in the Shadowlands.
The Old Gods are the Void Lords' enforcers, possessing physical forms and tasked with corrupting worlds and waging war on the material plane.
A small-time priest like Ethan probably wouldn't last ten seconds against even the weakest minion of an Old God.
That day when he'd depleted his Holy Light and slipped into that trance state, he'd faintly heard the "Whispers of the Void"—the seductive promises of some Old God offering unlimited power.
Fortunately he'd snapped out of it quickly and hadn't let the whispers take root.
Way too terrifying; he had to find a countermeasure.
After considerable deliberation he reached what seemed like an airtight conclusion:
Since exhausting Holy Light allows Shadow to creep in, what about the reverse?
Exhaust the Shadow energy, let Holy Light surge back and dominate—problem solved.
He began testing immediately, but the result was:
His mana was completely depleted, yet the Shadow energy hadn't diminished in the slightest; in fact, it seemed... even stronger.
"Goddammit, you Old Gods and Void Lords—why do you keep multiplying the more I try to purge you! Is your power so abundant you've got nowhere else to dump it?"
"Why target a low-level priest like me? Are you seriously counting on me to help you conquer Earth?"
Ethan buried his face in his hands and groaned, utterly frustrated.
Why are the requirements for obtaining Holy Light so impossibly strict:
One must possess extremely firm and unwavering faith;
Uphold the three sacred virtues of "Justice," "Hope," and "Compassion";
And constantly strengthen them through concrete actions and meditation, achieving "Respect, Tenacity, and Fortitude."
To obtain Shadow power, you just acknowledge an Old God or Void Lord and they practically FedEx it to your doorstep.
"Totally bullshit game design," he grumbled. "Everyone wants easy power—how many people can actually resist that temptation?"
No wonder shadow priests fall to corruption so easily... one moment of weakness and you're done.
His brilliant idea of burning through Shadow energy was officially a failure.
The more he used it, the stronger it became and the better it felt; a few more sessions and he'd probably become Earth's official spokesperson for the Void Lords.
He had to train Holy Light the honest way.
Ethan chewed on his pen, scribbling notes and muttering to himself:
"Respect—I've got that. I respect every patient's autonomy, even when they choose to refuse treatment."
"Compassion... got that too, right? I heal people every day—drug dealers, mobsters, and accountants contemplating suicide."
"Tenacity? Even more so—the clinic's drowning in debt and I'm still hanging on. Isn't that tenacity enough?"
He flung the pen down and leaned back in his chair.
"So where's the disconnect? All three conditions met—Holy Light should be so impressed it sends me a damn certificate."
"This makes zero sense," he frowned. "I follow the tenets, act righteously, treat people with kindness—and the stronger my belief, the weaker I become."
He stared at his notes, recalling the words of famous paladins and priests: "May the Light be with you..."
He pondered the phrase, then gave a bitter smile: "So Holy Light isn't a reward for faith, but a resonance of genuine emotion? It only responds when you truly 'feel' it in your soul?"
He decided to stop overthinking and get some fresh air.
Ethan left his bedroom only to discover it was already mid-morning—recent experiments had completely wrecked his sleep schedule.
In the living room, Sheldon was occupied with a frying pan on the stove.
"Morning," Ethan greeted.
"Morning," Leonard looked up from his laptop.
"Morning," Sheldon replied without turning.
Ethan glanced at the eggs in the pan. "Scrambled eggs for breakfast? That's not on your standard weekly meal rotation."
Without looking up, Sheldon said, "This isn't breakfast, it's a scientific experiment."
"Looks suspiciously like breakfast to me."
Sheldon flipped the eggs with surgical precision and explained earnestly, "I finally have time to test my hypothesis: separating water molecules from protein structures to observe the effect on texture and mouthfeel."
"Sounds... appetizing," Ethan said, genuinely unsure how to respond.
Leonard sighed heavily. "I can't wait to see what happens when he adds the bacon component."
Sheldon nodded with complete seriousness. "Neither can I."
Ethan whispered to Leonard, "What the hell happened?"
Leonard shrugged helplessly. "The new department head fired him."
"Wait, what?" Ethan was genuinely surprised—he vaguely recalled something like this from the show. "What did Sheldon do?"
"He called the department head 'an intellectually overrated primate,'" Leonard explained, "and claimed his last successful experiment was 'igniting his own methane emissions.'"
Sheldon protested defensively, "But I specifically prefaced it with 'with all due respect.'"
Ethan was momentarily speechless.
Leonard told Sheldon calmly, "I'm sure if you just apologize to Dr. Gablehauser, he'll reinstate you."
Sheldon answered matter-of-factly, "I don't want to be reinstated. This is the first vacation I've had in decades—I intend to maximize its utility."
"Fair enough!" Leonard shrugged and gestured to Ethan to try talking sense into him. "Go back to your egg experiments."
Sheldon corrected with solemn dignity, "Not my eggs—eggs for the advancement of all humanity."
Leonard deadpanned: "We're all deeply grateful for your sacrifice."
Ethan stood quietly, processing this absurdity.
Sheldon interrupted his thoughts, "Would you like to sample the prototype?"
Startled, Ethan looked at the actually decent-looking scrambled eggs. "Sure, why not."
Sheldon retrieved two plates, divided the eggs precisely, set them on the coffee table, and they both began tasting.
One bite and Ethan detected a slightly metallic, fishy flavor—absolutely none of the usual subtle milky or buttery notes of properly cooked eggs.
He met Sheldon's expectant gaze.
Sheldon announced cheerfully: "Excellent—the first iteration provides the most valuable data point: always use fresh eggs."
"Hey guys!" Penny knocked perfunctorily and walked right in, bright and energetic as always. "Oh, Ethan, you're here—haven't seen you in forever!"
Ethan turned—she wore a pink tank top, floral print shorts, a canvas tote bag slung over her shoulder, radiating casual California summer energy.
"Hi, Penny," Ethan answered warmly, pleasantly surprised.
"I'm heading to Ralph's—anyone need anything?"
Ethan shook his head. Sheldon's eyes lit up with amazement: "This is what people unfamiliar with probability theory incorrectly call a 'coincidence.'"
Penny looked confused. "What?"
Sheldon explained with utmost seriousness, "I require eggs—four dozen should be sufficient for initial trials."
"What? Four dozen?"
"Yes: brown, white, cage-free, organic, large, extra-large, jumbo—eight of each variety."
"Okay." Penny narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Run that by me one more time?"
Ethan cut in, "Sheldon, she's not a computer with perfect recall—write it down for her."
Sheldon waved dismissively. "Forget it—you'd inevitably make errors in selection. I'd better accompany you to ensure proper procurement."
Penny sighed in resignation. "Fine, let's just go."
She glanced pleadingly at Ethan.
Ethan spread his hands: can't help you there.
Penny gave one final desperate look. "Ethan, please come with us?"
Ethan sighed deeply. "All right, fine." Compassion is one of the Holy Light's sacred tenets, after all.
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