The Divine Fury -

“I don’t believe in supernatural phenomena,” Anders said. It was his standard opening line. It felt hollow in his mouth.

Anders didn’t need to look it up. He’d been raised Catholic, even if he’d abandoned it. The verse came to him unbidden: “I came to cast fire upon the earth; and how I wish it were already kindled!”

Anders felt a cold hand close around his spine. He knew exactly what she meant.

Sister Agnes Marie, seventy-three years old, from a convent in the Badlands of South Dakota. Her subject line read: “The Fury is back. Please help.” The Divine Fury

The man tilted his head. “You,” he said. “The boy from the pew. You remember.”

He stepped closer. The air grew hot.

For a long moment, nothing happened. The prairie wind howled outside. Sister Agnes held her breath. Anders didn’t need to look it up

“He’s weaponizing it,” Sister Agnes replied. “He comes every night. He doesn’t hurt us. He doesn’t have to. He just stands there and… shows us. Everything we’ve done wrong. Every petty jealousy, every harsh word, every time we chose comfort over courage.” Her voice cracked. “It’s unbearable, Mr. Anders. It’s worse than any pain.”

“He says he wants justice.” Sister Agnes stopped in front of a door. “He says God has been too soft. That the wicked have prospered and the innocent have suffered, and someone needs to balance the scales. So he’s doing it himself.”

He didn’t disappear. He didn’t transform. He simply… sagged. The terrible pressure in the room eased. The white fire guttered and went out. He knew exactly what she meant

“I don’t know,” he said. “But if he does, I’ll be here.”

Anders never forgot. Twenty years later, Anders was a professional skeptic. He ran a YouTube channel called Myth-Breaker with two million subscribers. He debunked faith healers, exorcists, weeping statues, haunted dollhouses. He was good at it. Calm, methodical, with a voice like warm concrete. People trusted him because he never raised his voice and he never believed.

“You showed me the truth when I was seven,” he said quietly. “And I spent twenty years running from it. I debunked miracles because I was afraid of the one miracle I couldn’t explain. I built a life on doubt because certainty would have destroyed me.”