Click.

  The hammer fell on an empty chamber.

  Before I could process the non-event, reality inverted.

  Pressure - absolute, crushing, inescapable - slammed into me from every direction at once. My knees buckled. The gun clattered from my grip. Then I was face down on the ground, my body pressed against it from an invisible force.

  The weight didn't stop.

  It multiplied. Pressed down with the weight of a mountain. My ribs screamed. My arms pinned flat. I couldn't move - couldn't even twitch a finger against the terrible gravity crushing me into the ground.

  Breathing became harder. Each inhale made me regret the last couple seconds even more.

  I really am stupid sometimes.

  Through vision blurring at the edges, I managed to tilt my head just enough to see the handler standing exactly where they'd been. Completely fine. Utterly unbothered by the fact I'd just pulled a trigger aimed at their skull.

  Despite the agony, despite barely being able to draw breath, I smiled beneath my mask.

  "I-I guess... I w-was right."

  The handler tilted their head. Their blade remained leveled with casual authority, the gravity emanating from it so precise it felt like being forced down by hundreds of invisible hands.

  "How did you know?" Their vox was bland yet curious. Almost academic in a way. "That the ammunition were blanks?"

  I forced words through the crushing pressure. "You handed me... the revolver... with the safety off."

  Among other things. The weight, the casualness of it all, the body language. I had always been observant, and with my red eyes, it only made me even more capable.

  Though by now, I had already turned them off. Just in case.

  "You're truly as mad as they say." The handler's voice carried something between amusement and warning. "I could kill you right here for such a treasonous act."

  My mouth struggled under the weight. If I had the ability to smile at that time, I had no doubt I would have.

  "B-But you won't."

  The handler slowly tilted their head, curious.

  "Why not?"

  My mouth struggled even more.

  "B-Because he's my so-called m-master."

  Silence.

  Then the pressure vanished.

  I gasped, dragging air into my starved lungs. My whole body ached like I'd been beaten with hammers. But I was alive. And most importantly-

  -I was right.

  "You're mad." the handler said quietly. "Just like your master."

  I pushed myself up slowly, every muscle protesting as a sour taste filled my mouth.

  "I'm nothing like him."

  "We'll see." They turned away, dismissing me with the gesture. "Such arrogance will get you killed one day."

  I didn't respond. My mind was still processing what had just happened. My confidence was merely a front in front of such a being of immense power.

  That gravity was terrifying. Not just the force - the precision. It had been so exact, so perfectly controlled, that it kept my eyelids forced open so I couldn't blink. Couldn't escape. Even with my pathways gift, I was completely helpless.

  Inquisitors could never match the explosive power or the divine gifts bestowed upon a individual of divine heritage.

  Yet, that didn't mean they couldn't become extremely proficient with their element, even if the power behind it remained the same.

  The handler paused at the factory's far exit. "You three will convene at a later date for formal orders. But for now-" They gestured vaguely at Lightning and Ice, who were still kneeling under residual pressure. "-have those two assist you with any further cases of the Nightlurker plague if it occurs."

  "When's the meeting?" I asked, straightening despite the pain in my ribs still ebbing.

  "Tomorrow. Same time. Same place."

  I bowed slightly - just enough to satisfy protocol without looking dramatic.

  "Yes, sir."

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  The handler left without another word, their footsteps fading into the factory's shadows. The gravity pinning Lightning and Ice released simultaneously with their departure.

  I waited until I was certain they were gone before sighing heavily beneath my mask.

  I'm still so helpless against more experienced Inquisitors. Even with a pathway.

  The thought bruised my ego even worse than my bruised ribs.

  I turned around, already composing what I'd say to my new cell members, until a peculiar site caught my eye.

  I was met with both Inquisitors knelt behind me, heads bowed, postures perfect.

  I stopped, genuinely surprised.

  They hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken. Just assumed the position of subordinates awaiting orders.

  They're certainly disciplined, at least.

  I walked toward them slowly, studying their kneeling forms. Professional. Precise. Like they'd done this a thousand times before.

  "So..." I said, keeping my tone neutral. "You two are also guinea pigs of his?"

  The taller one - Ice - spoke without raising his head. "That is indeed correct, sir. His Lordship was the progenitor of the Inquisitions Umbra Formula."

  "That's the program that evolves the Umbra formula formula, correct?" I asked. "The one that lets Inquisitors manifest divine elements without a bloodline?"

  Ice nodded once, crisp and precise. "We were personally utilized by His Lordship in his experiments to further refine the formula. We were both administered experimental doses so that he might observe and document the results in authentic Inquisitorial scenarios."

  A shiver ran down my spine at the mention of being his experiments. "I feel bad for you two."

  Test subjects. Experiments. That man's clinical approach to human capability made my skin crawl even when I wasn't the one strapped to a table.

  It probably also explained how such newbies were already so strong.

  "Do you know his real identity?" I asked, curious.

  "Non, sir. Such knowledge is far beneath our station."

  Typical Inquisition. Information compartmentalized to the point of paranoia.

  The Inquisition was made up of a network of different divisions and a heavy clasp on any information. It was no wonder they didn't know.

  I stared at their masked faces, at the way they kept their eyes fixed on the ground like condemned prisoners awaiting execution.

  "I'm getting sick of seeing masks." I said finally. "Let's get acquainted properly. We're going to be a cell for the foreseeable future, so I'd like to know who I'm working with."

  I gestured to Ice. "You. Take off your mask and introduce yourself."

  Ice hesitated for only a heartbeat before reaching up. His hands moved with the same precision as everything else they did - calculated, controlled. The mask came away with a soft hiss of released seals.

  What met my eyes was dirty blonde hair, cut military-short. A stern face devoid of any facial hair - clean-shaven to the point of obsession. Sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and eyes the color of winter frost that remained fixed downward even with the mask removed. Handsome in that obsessive way that came from noble breeding and rigid discipline.

  Eighteen would be pushing it. He was most likely around my age.

  And knowing how my teacher is, it's probably on purpose.

  "Leonard Beaumont, sir." His voice was steadier without the vox distortion. Crisp. Formal. The accent of educated nobility trying very hard to sound professional. "Third son of House Beaumont."

  A noble. Probably from a smaller house since he had no pathway. The Beaumont name wasn't one I recognized from the major families that controlled imperial politics.

  I turned to the smaller figure. "Your turn."

  Lightning's hands moved to their mask more slowly. Reluctant, maybe, or just cautious. I couldn't tell.

  The mask came away.

  A young woman - definitely my age, possibly younger. Short auburn hair that barely reached her shoulders, cut unevenly like she'd done it herself with a dull knife. Pale skin. Pretty features rendered almost lifeless by an expression of complete emptiness - eyes that looked through me rather than at me.

  She didn't speak.

  My eyes furrowed.

  Did he do this?

  I quickly suppressed my frustration as I smiled kindly.

  "Your name?" I prompted gently.

  "Alice." Just the one word. Flat. Emotionless. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor.

  No family name.

  A commoner, then. As is usual with the Inquisition.

  "Thank you both," I said. "You can stand now."

  They rose in perfect synchronization - another sign of shared training.

  I reached up and pulled off my own mask, then pushed back my hood. My relatively average looking seventeen-year-old features that probably looked absurdly young compared to the monstrous display of power they'd just witnessed.

  I smiled - as bright and genuine as I could muster, the kind of expression that said we're all equals here even though we clearly aren't.

  "Damian Solmere." I said, extending my hand toward Leonard. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

  Leonard stared at my outstretched hand like it might explode. Then, slowly, uncertainty flickering across his stern features, he reached out and shook it.

  "The pleasure is entirely mine, sir." he said, though his expression suggested he wasn't entirely sure that was true.

  I turned to Alice, offering the same hand.

  She didn't take it. Just nodded once, eyes sliding away from mine. "Thanks."

  My face went blank.

  Thanks? Thanks for what?

  I withdrew my hand, rubbing it awkwardly against my jacket while trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make this more uncomfortable.

  "Sir." Leonard's voice cut through the awkward silence. His expression had shifted to something between curiosity and disbelief. "If I may inquire... are you perhaps a pathway user?"

  I smiled. "No need to be so formal. But yes. I am."

  He gawked. His stern military composure cracked completely. "To be granted such gifts by the Almighty..." He trailed off, then frowned slightly. "Though I must confess, I have never heard of House Solmere. And since when does the Inquisition recruit nobles who possess divine pathways?"

  I reached for my sleeve, triggering the mechanism. The hilt dropped smoothly into my palm. "I'm not exactly a noble. I was adopted at a young age by one. Otherwise, I wouldn't have a last name at all."

  The blade unfolded - segments clicking into place with mechanical precision. Then I squeezed the gemstone.

  Two colors erupted simultaneously.

  Black shadows bled on the blade, coiling and writhing like living darkness. Red veins pulsed within the blade, flickering with the rhythm of a heartbeat, casting crimson across the factory floor.

  "The Inquisition deemed me a prime tool." I said quietly, watching the dual energies dance along the sword's length. "Since I have dual pathways. One for noble life in the light. The other for Inquisitorial work in the dark."

  I looked up, meeting their shocked expressions with another smile - this one touched with dark humor.

  "Lucky me, right?"

  Leonard's jaw had gone slack. Even Alice's lifeless expression had cracked, her eyes widening as she stared at the impossible weapon in my hand.

  Dual pathways. The kind of divine blessing that appeared maybe once a every decade. The kind of thing that should've made me a high noble, a saint, or at minimum someone far too valuable to risk in field operations.

  Instead, I was here. Playing religious CIA. I found the whole thing as comedic as it was cruel.

  "Well, Leonard. Alice." My smile brightened despite everything. "Welcome to the cell."

  They didn't respond. Still processing, probably.

  I gave them a moment, then asked the question that actually mattered.

  "Now - how much do you two know about the Nightlurker plague?"