Chương 126: 119. To the Vatican

After the explanation of what we were standing on, the cat decided to get to the gist of it.

"The most important thing will be how we lift the ban on magic, how we present ourselves to the mortal world. What do we want to be to the average man? And this is where we come in," said the cat as he produced a small package from one of the bags we carried in. We all looked curiously at what was now lying on the table. To my surprise, it was a bullet. I frowned and looked closer. It had inscriptions on the sides. That was almost impressive. Bullets were notoriously hard to enchant.

"Okay, that is some good enchanting. But I don't see much room for improvement. Bullets lack space, and the friction against the gun's barrel might damage any more delicate runework."

"It's just a prototype. Not all enchantments need runework. Look," said the cat, as he jumped on the table, sweeping his gaze over all of us.

"There hasn't been much research into new fields recently, so we don't know the full capacity of a gun for enchantment. Yes, the moving parts and small size of the bullet make it tough, but it's not about bringing them up to the standard of something like an arcane archer. It's about making connections. They will very soon be looking for ways to deal with magic phenomena, and this is where we come in."

"Theeey will work against shielding spells just as well as against ghosts," Myhur said, looking from the bullet to the cat.

"Yes, but they will also cap at a certain level of power, and the gunman is still extremely vulnerable compared to a mage," Q'Shar retorted.

"It's about bringing them to the negotiation table, not teaching how to do what we do." The cat sat back down, giving us a few seconds to gather our thoughts.

"So," he started in a serious voice.

"Once the ban on the mortal world is lifted… we want to push for the re-creation of the exorcist association." Our collective eyebrows shot up, aside from Ophelia's, who was looking slightly confused.

"The exorcists were mostly active after the war. A lot of dark creatures—and, most of all, undead—were walking around. The magic world didn't have the manpower left, so the exorcists were created. A massive decentralized organization, something like a guild, bringing together everyone who wanted to fight, with a lot of new mages coming from mortal backgrounds. Anyone would be paid a commission on jobs posted to the exorcists." I explained.

"At least on paper. The truth was that they wielded massive power and influence over most unaffiliated fighting forces. Not to mention, it was used as a recruiting ground for many other organizations, giving them even more pull. Once magic became scarce, the brokers replaced them. But right now, that new unaffiliated fighting force will be the mortal world.

We will give them a chance to gain the knowledge they so desperately need, and through them, we will get our claws into the mortal world's powers—no violence or threats needed. They will offer it willingly," the cat finished with a broad, nasty smile.

"I have doubts about that—doing that will still create tension, unaffiliated or not," said William.

"Even if you offer part of your knowledge, they will be greedy for all of it."

"That won't be a problem," the cat said.

"They have two options: come to the negotiation table and try playing mind games against people capable of invading their thoughts, or try violence and lose horribly."

"You're underestimating what they can do."

"No, he's not," this time I broke in.

"It's not whether they march an army on us, but try some threats and extortions. The hierarchy of the mortal world is much less dependent on personal power. The majority of people running things are cowards in suits who came to power through negotiation, theft, and family fortunes. A few nastier curses, they won't know how to counter, and they'll fold. They work on the assumption that you can't do anything about bought judges and massive security forces, but any moron proficient in curses can bypass that.

A few of them tortured to death in their own beds, and they'll play nice."

"Or march an army." William retorted.

"Not in the initial phases," Q'Shar said firmly.

"Maybe later, once they reorganise, the trick is to have our claws on their throats by then. Show them what we can give if they play nicely. Make them understand that there is no security force to protect against a soul attack or a curse if they don't play nice."

"And if not, we're cracking more skulls, eh?" boomed Darius.

"Exactly." I smiled.

"Uhhhhh, rich people screaming—how nice," Luna piped up.

"Straaaight to the ground and back in the circle." Myhur nodded to himself. The cat's tail flopped onto the table as his ears lay flat against his head.

"I have to play with the cards I was given, and all my cards are psychos," he murmured to himself, to which Ophelia and William looked rather hurt about being grouped with us.

"And how are you gonna propose that at the sabbath? Whip out the bullet there, too?" I asked.

"No, we can't be the ones making the proposition—it will be obvious. We will introduce it with your help, though."

"I'm not doing politics," I groaned.

"Oh no. I don't want you to do any deals. I just need you to do one thing. You should be good at it, actually."

"Oh?"

"I want you to play the villain." We spent a few hours talking, from serious stuff to later sharing stories from previous sabbaths when some of us met. Ophelia listened to our tales with a mixture of interest and disapproval. For some reason, the same disapproval was clear on William's face even though he was there. We ended the meeting in the middle of the night and went our separate ways before the sabbath. I drove the cat home this time without Myhur, who decided to stay at the Red Head.

I was processing all the plans in silence as I watched the empty streets pass by.

"Sam." The cat broke the silence as we approached the cat lady's apartment.

"What's up?"

"About the recent wendigo."

"The one you thought was a skinwalker?"

"Yes. I talked to the branch near the bay harbor and… while everyone was out on the hunt, some items went missing," the cat said, and let the silence hang in the air.

"Let me guess—similar to the ones from Brazil? Life-oriented artifacts?"

"Yes." We both said nothing for a few seconds.

"We don't know much beyond it, but watch out—" I nodded at that and stopped by the apartment, as the cat slipped through the window, not bothering with the door.

"Hey," I shouted after him.

"At least it wasn't a skinwalker."

"At least." After that, I drove Ophelia back home. She happily moved to the front seat and turned to me once we were back on the road.

"So," she started.

"Why would a skinwalker be so bad? Are they that strong?"

"No. It's… Do you know what the uncanny valley is?" I could see her typing on her phone.

"A phenomenon where a human-like object or entity evokes a feeling of eeriness or revulsion in observers because it is almost, but not perfectly, human," she recited. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Yep, but that's just a definition. Why is it there?"

"What?"

"Why did we evolve the feeling? We evolved a fear of things that creep and crawl because most were poisonous. We have a natural fear of large predators with big fangs because they can rip us to shreds. We fear darkness because we can't see in it. But why do we have the uncanny valley? Well, I should say 'you' rather than 'we' in my case, but you get it." Ophelia frowned at my question as I continued.

"You see, it's speculated that there was a time when we needed to fear something that looked human but wasn't. Most ascribe that fear to doppelgangers—a species that is said to be extinct, killed by our ancestors, hunted to extinction in a craze, like the mammoths. During the war, the miracle bringers used doppelgangers as a base, creating a creature of their own—the skinwalkers, beings able to wear their victims in near-perfect mimicry.

After the war, they were hunted to extinction, a number-one target for the exorcists. But they still show up—mostly in Navajo myth. We are hoping that it's just that—myth—and no one actually saw a skinwalker. But any possible sighting, especially now when magic returns, is a nasty thought."

"Oh." I saw her nod, and we finished the ride in silence as I dropped her off at her house. It was the day before we were supposed to go to the Vatican when I received a message that Peter had recovered after the surgeries. He had been kept asleep with a sleeping draught, but the surgeon could now wake him. I got into my car and drove to the safe house, eager to close the case before the sabbath. It was a small house outside of New York managed by an older man.

After arriving, I was led to the basement, where the large tub with soul-numbing solution stood, and in it, Peter was suspended. I could see the signs of the surgery etched into his body. Fully regenerative magic was not possible before the first ascension. His hand was rebuilt, although I doubt he would have full use of it, judging by the scarring. The additional flesh was removed, and skin grafts were applied to cover it, leaving some scar tissue here and there.

The worst one was on his side and back, where the most significant growths were. Overall, you couldn't tell anything was wrong if he was fully clothed, but one look at his body told you something horrible had happened in the past. With the passage of time and better magic, complete recuperation of flesh at least should be possible. But as for his soul, I would have to see. I went up the small stairs next to the container and pulled out his body.

Once he was relatively dry, I placed him on a table draped in surgical sheets and prepared a seat for myself beside it. Once ready, I measured two drops of the awakening concoction and poured them down his throat. At first, I saw twitching and muscle spasms, as if he were having a particularly intense dream. Then his mouth opened slightly, and a groan came.

He then froze, ceasing all movement to the point that I was afraid his heart might have given out, but after a few seconds, every muscle in his body spasmed, and he jumped up on the bed, taking a deep breath in the process.

"What? Where?" he said, looking around in panic until his eyes met mine.

"Who are you? Where am I? Wh—" He froze and looked to the side in horror, to the place where the face had previously been in his flesh. But once his eyes met nothing but slightly scarred skin, he frowned.

"W-was this a dream?" he whispered to himself, looking his body over. I could see his fingertips stop at the scars as his frown deepened. Finally, he noticed his left hand and tried to awkwardly make a fist as the fingers moved slowly into place, constantly trembling.

"It wasn't a dream, I'm afraid," I broke him out of his thoughts.

"All that you experienced did happen."

"So… so I really… I—" I could see tears shine in his eyes. I sat there in slightly awkward silence as he cried. Once he had finished crying, he switched from tears to staring ahead in shock. I decided to continue, not sure about how to break him out.

"So what do you want to do now?"

"What?" he asked me, in a detached voice.

"You can't think straight right now. You'll probably also start to feel a strange, dull ache all over as the solution stops working, so I will tell you what you're in for. I don't need you to make a decision right now, but I will need you to think it through." He turned his head in my direction, his gaze barely focused.

"Your mother is still alive. She was informed that you ran away and weren't the one who killed your father. We arranged for her to receive 'updates' from a friend of yours, so for now she is in relatively good condition—as much as she can be."

"Wait. Updates? How long has it been? I—I don't remember. I… wasn't it two days ago?" I winced. Right, I forgot.

"Almost a month has passed."

"What? Then I—I have to go. I can't leave her with all that."

"Stop," I said, putting my hand on his shoulder so that he didn't try to run.

"For now, you can't go back. Not in this state."

"What state?"

"Those people who were attached to you—you think that didn't have any consequences?" I saw him go pale and relax on the table, letting me continue.

"Look. Your soul has mutated. Other spirits were attached to you, and for long enough that they fully merged. We got rid of their minds, so you won't be hearing any more voices, but the shape of your soul is still strange. This will cause pain—I need you to understand that you will most likely experience phantom pain on a large scale, pain that will not respond to painkillers. I won't say that's the rest of your life, as soul surgery might become a possibility, but for a long time.

You have the following options: you can try to go back to your normal life—you will be in pain, but the ability to handle it depends on your will. Another option is to take my offer and become something like a test subject for me. As you probably noticed by now, magic is real, and you experienced one of its most horrifying aspects. I want to see the influence of those souls on your magic talent. I want to see what can be done.

If you take that option, you will have to listen to me and go along with my ideas, but in turn, I will take care of your well-being, and once I am skilled enough, I will offer you a solution to the pain, assuming one exists. But both those options will require a lot from you—a lot of willpower and dedication—so if you don't have that in you, I can also help you leave this world…"

"I can choose… death?" he asked, confused. The disbelief in his voice made me smile. It looked like there was strength in him if he didn't even consider it subconsciously.

"Yes, that is an option. Such is the law. In the days ahead, I will be away, and you have a lot to think through. We can contact your mother on your behalf. And once you have made a decision, you can tell me through the old caretaker upstairs. If you want to sleep, take a drop of this serum and dive into this container. Don't worry—it's enchanted so that you won't choke. The solution in it will block most of the pain from your soul, but you can't use it forever—and not while you're conscious."

After that, I gave him a brief explanation about how the case was closed and the world of magic. I left him sitting at the table, looking at the wall. The next day, I was told he had asked me to contact his mother. I would have to deal with his decision after the sabbath. So right now, both Ophelia and I were packed, as we were all taking a private jet to the Vatican. I took a last look at mine and Ophelia's scrolls. Race:? Bloodline:?

Circle: 3 Standard Spells per circle: 1st: 27 2nd: 9 3rd: 4 -> 5 Attributes: Body Strength: 19 Dexterity: 23 Endurance: 25 Constitution: 17 Mind Intelligence: 27 Wisdom: 18 Willpower: 29 Mental Defence (non-fear): 28 Spirit Soul: 21 Instinct: 0 Faith: 2 Manifestation:?

Social Empathy: 2 Charisma: 5 Pressure: 25 Passion: 8 Skills: Multilingual; Authority Over Mana (apprentice); Authority Over Mind; Eldritch Madness; Eldritch Tongue; Servant to the Abyss; Spell Casting; Ritual Casting; Curse Weaving; Full Astral Projection (apprentice->adept); Golem Creation (novice->beginner); Darkvision; Accelerated Healing Secrets: Fire, Space, Death, Mind Mysteries: Space, Death, Curse, Soul (novice->beginner), Mind Enigmas: Eldritch Ophelia: Race: - Magic Circle: 1 Standard Spells per circle: 1st: 12 -> 13 Stats: Body Strength: 14 -> 17 Dexterity: 18 -> 19 Endurance: 15 -> 17 Constitution: 19 Mind Intelligence: 17 Wisdom: 14 -> 17 Willpower: 19 Mental Defense: 18 -> 20 Spirit Soul: 11 -> 13 Instinct: 0 Faith: 3 -> 9 Manifestation: 19 Social Empathy: 14 Charisma: 13 Pressure: 8 -> 10 Passion: 16 Skills: Poison Resistance, Familiar Manifestation, Minor Darkvision, Spell Casting (beginner), qi control (novice) Secrets: Life (apprentice), Death (beginner -> apprentice) Mysteries: – They looked good.

We both grew. I also mastered all the third-circle spells I wanted, except for hellfire. That would take time, so it was left for later. I was happy about the breakthroughs in soul knowledge. All the preparations were done just in time. All our plans were in motion, all the cat's schemes were blooming—now only to see how they would fare against the rest of the world.

'How exciting,' I thought to myself, as we boarded the jet and took flight to the Vatican.