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The scythe was no longer hers to command. It emanated an eerie green flame that spread across its dark blade and stem, giving an impression that it had transcended realms and was no longer within her control. Her body rigid with fear, Lucretia tried to maintain a grip on the weapon. In her state of distress, the only words that escaped her lips were, “Your… your scythe seems rather distinct…”

Raising an eyebrow, Duncan replied as the green flames subsided, “Is this how you always react under pressure? What’s happening here?”

As the ethereal flames dimmed, Lucretia felt the tug of the scythe, born from dreams and curses, returning to her command. Taking a cautionary step back, she tightened her hold on the weapon, readying herself to explain the situation to her father. Yet, her attempt was interrupted by a looming and immediate threat.

The Sun’s abominable offspring, dubbed the “inferior beings,” sprung into action. They were not going to sit idly by and allow their adversaries to engage in casual conversation. Harnessing the power of the sunlight, multiple dark figures leaped towards Lucretia.

With swift instinct, she pivoted and, in the process, her scythe metamorphosed into a thorn-laden whip. As she readied to strike, the advancing shadows halted in mid-flight, unveiling their forms. They then plummeted to the ground, convulsing wildly as though severed from their power source.

Meanwhile, Heidi, who was juggling multiple personalities and barely maintaining her equilibrium, suddenly felt a significant drop in the surrounding pressure.

Hastily switching her “self” from a weakening personality to a more resilient one, she cast her gaze around. Her eyes widened in horror as she witnessed the ominous figures collapsing one after the other. They writhed on the ground, resembling fish sizzling under the scorching sun.

The mysterious black cloaks they wore began to bulge and squirm from within. The monstrous limbs protruding from beneath started to decompose at a rapid rate. Along with the ghastly disintegration, a repulsive odor and viscous pus began oozing out.

Even for someone as seasoned as Heidi, a professional psychiatrist, the grotesque scene was too much to bear. She instinctively retreated a few steps. An inner compulsion beckoned her to lift her gaze to the heavens, but just as she was about to, she repressed the urge with considerable force.

Heidi was haunted by the memories of her previous encounter with that abominable “offspring of the sun.” The sheer terror of that experience was so vividly etched in her mind that she found herself resisting any impulse to confront or validate her suspicions.

However, her train of thought was interrupted when she overheard a stranger, who had recently appeared beside Lucretia, comforting her, “Fear not, the heavens are now benign.”

These words seemed to resonate with an inexplicable authority. While devoid of any concrete rationale, a profound conviction rooted itself in Heidi’s psyche: the skies were, indeed, safe.

With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, Heidi tentatively directed her gaze upwards, setting her eyes upon the “sun” which gleamed ferociously above.

The monstrous entity, hanging eerily above the woods, was adorned with countless contorted tentacles and ghostly eyes that looked like grotesque, organic growths. Its luminance was reminiscent of vehement flames, enveloping and consuming the entire terrifying body of flesh. But amidst this blazing inferno, a peculiar shade of deep green began to emerge, rapidly blanketing its surface.

The very sight of these serpentine appendages and pallid eyes would normally send waves of paralyzing dread through Heidi. Yet, this time, even as her heart raced with fear, she noted that her mental clarity remained untouched.

The malevolent influence that the “offspring of the sun” once wielded seemed to be nullified, if not actively eroded by the eerie green flames. The possibility began to form in her mind: the flames were corrupting the very essence of this celestial aberration, rendering its maleficence inert.

Meanwhile, the agonized cries of the “inferior beings” pierced through the air, assailing Lucretia’s senses. The figures, shrouded in dark cloaks, were disintegrating under the transformative rays, as though subjected to a potent solvent. Witnessing this bizarre spectacle, she turned to Duncan for clarity, inquiring, “What is happening?”

Duncan, with an expression of serene confidence, explained, “Their pseudo-sun has been tainted by me. The sunlight it emits now acts as a venom to them. A lesson I gleaned from the ‘Black Sun Incident’ in Pland — these relics thrive only under a particular kind of solar radiance.”

His words flowed smoothly, and he cast a contemplative look towards the malformed entity that continued to hover silently above the canopy.

Memories of the “Black Sun” he had once glimpsed through a “golden mask” surfaced again. He recalled the ashen ancient deity that met its end beneath its glare. Yet, compared to the “Black Sun” from his recollections, the entity currently presiding over this phantasmagoric realm appeared significantly diminished in both stature and potency.

It dawned on Duncan that this might be the much-whispered “heir of the sun” revered by the zealous cultists.

This offspring was rapidly succumbing to the corrosive flames, with its very luminescence being altered into a force potent enough to consume it. Yet, in the face of its imminent doom, this ghastly being remained eerily unperturbed, continuing to hover without any evident distress or dread.

It shone with the radiant warmth and illumination akin to a genuine celestial body. However, as Duncan peered into its pale, haunting eyes, he felt a deep sense of awareness emanating from the being. This entity wasn’t just a source of light and energy; it had sentience. It observed, reasoned, and seemingly contemplated its existence and purpose. It was starkly different from the self-destructive Black Sun or the frenzied cultists who harbored apocalyptic ambitions.

What thoughts occupied the mind of this mysterious solar offspring?

A question rose unbidden within Duncan, “What goes on in your mind?”

From the depths of the ethereal flames, a voice emerged, gentle and serene, “Is it time for my departure? I find no purpose here.”

The unexpected response momentarily stunned Duncan.

But as he geared up to delve deeper into a conversation with the “offspring of the sun,” a spectral thunder boomed overhead. The enveloping flames surrounding the entity contracted abruptly, coalescing into a minuscule point. The flames that no longer had an anchor detonated in a split second, scattering in every direction.

The pseudo-sun that once dominated the forest skyline vanished, replaced by a sky painted in hues of dim crimson, plunging the entire forest into an aura reminiscent of twilight.

Observing the sudden change, Lucretia asked, “Did you obliterate it?”

Duncan responded with a gentle shake of his head, sharing the revelation he had just experienced, “It chose to depart. What we witnessed was but a shadow, a projection of the Black Sun’s offspring manifesting in the dream realm, akin to a probing appendage. It seems to have decided to retract that extension.”

Absorbing the revelation, Lucretia soon found herself preoccupied with another pressing concern, “Where has the Annihilator vanished?”

“He made his escape,” Duncan stated nonchalantly, “As the ‘inferior beings’ met their demise, he steadily diminished his presence. When the pseudo-sun imploded, he exploited the resulting turmoil and slipped away.”

Hearing this, Lucretia’s face contorted into a scowl. Her eyes darted around the twilight-soaked forest, “I should’ve been vigilant… I could’ve hexed him…”

Duncan, in a bid to assuage her, remarked, “Let him be for now.”

A surprised Lucretia sought clarification, “Did you purposefully let him escape?”

Rather than offering a straightforward answer, Duncan appeared to tune into something. A chuckle escaped him as he declared, “Regardless, he’s laid eyes upon me already.”

Switching gears, Duncan shifted his focus to Heidi, who seemed increasingly uncomfortable, attempting to recede into the background.

Drawing nearer to the young psychiatrist — or more aptly, the multiple iterations of Heidi present — he began to assess their well-being.

As Duncan assessed the situation, he noted that out of the numerous Heidis, seven or eight of them were visibly injured. Three appeared gravely wounded, sprawled on the forest floor, convulsing with the feebleness of a fish gasping its last breaths out of water. Their personalities seemed to have retreated inwards, leaving behind only reflex-driven spasms that seemed eerily lifeless. Two other Heidis fared relatively better: one gazed into the distance with an empty stare, while the other seemed to deliberately sidestep Duncan’s attention, her eyes darting anxiously.

Duncan coolly observed this perplexing collective of Heidis, silently marveling at the complexities of psychiatry in this dimension. The manifestation of split personalities here appeared far more tangible and acute than the typical presentations of dissociative identity disorder he was aware of. Opting to engage the Heidi who appeared the most lucid, he directly approached the one who stared blankly, tactfully ignoring the other whose anxiety was palpable.

“Are you holding up okay?”

The emotionless facade of the Heidi he addressed shattered instantly, her face now animated with a mix of surprise and recognition. “You… how could you tell…”

It was evident that she had pieced together the identity of the formidable and slightly oppressive figure standing before her. A pang of anxiety raced through her heart. She had naively thought that by deploying her personified selves, she could elude direct confrontation with this fearsome entity from “Subspace.” However, her subterfuge had been seen through almost instantaneously.

“You frequently deploy your split selves as a defensive mechanism when feeling threatened,” Duncan observed, his voice warm and amicable. “I must admit, I didn’t anticipate the physical manifestations of your ‘personified selves’ to be so… tangible and resilient. It’s truly intriguing.”

Caught off guard, Heidi instinctively began to justify, “Some… some patients diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder can be overwhelmingly aggressive. If I don’t have enough of ‘me’ to counteract, I can’t fend them off.” But mid-explanation, she halted, a look of realization dawning, “But how did you determine…”

With a sly grin, Duncan pointed at the gleaming purple crystal pendant that nestled against Heidi’s chest.

“In a manner of speaking, that pendant, dear Heidi, is a token of my generosity.”