Adam remained silent as he gathered his thoughts.

  He had initially suspected the Scavengers were merely cultists with a warped sense of faith. He hadn’t expected their origins to trace back to the infamous Eight Gates—or that they were now controlled by followers of a demon.

  Yet the most unsettling revelation was the existence of elixirs.

  It meant he couldn’t remain wary of demons and Awakened alone. Even ordinary people now belonged on that list.

  The more I learn about this world, the more fundamentally broken it becomes.

  Adam glanced at X. She hadn’t spoken since her last revelation, as if deliberately giving him space to process everything. From time to time, she toyed with her hair or stared toward the open bathroom door.

  Minutes passed in silence.

  Adam cleared his throat and shifted slightly. “Have you heard of a demon named Korgrath?”

  X snapped her gaze toward him. “Korgrath?” she repeated, frowning. After a brief pause, she shook her head. “No. Is that the name of an è?ù—or a Demonkin?”

  “Let’s talk about the mission,” Adam said, redirecting the conversation with a shallow smile.

  X pouted. “And here I thought we were bonding…” she sighed.

  Bonding?

  Adam restrained a laugh.

  He fixed his gaze on her, waiting.

  X straightened, then reached into the space between her breasts and retrieved a small amulet. She tossed it to him. “Here.”

  Adam caught the beetle-shaped charm instinctively.

  “I was told to give this to the person who didn’t wear the mask,” X said casually.

  Adam’s expression darkened.

  He knows… damn it.

  Her offhand remark confirmed it; Vicar was aware of the full extent of Manipulator’s control.

  Does that lunatic know about my other abilities too?

  The thought unsettled him.

  Or am I overthinking this?

  It was possible Vicar simply anticipated his defiance.

  Adam remained unconvinced either way.

  X still wore the same faintly indignant expression as before. Adam turned his attention back to the amulet and pressed his thumb against its polished surface.

  Nothing happened.

  He applied more pressure.

  A sharp sting followed.

  Blood welled.

  “What the—”

  The amulet hummed as the blood spread across its surface. A brilliant cobalt glow flooded the room, followed by the unmistakable chime of the system.

  [Starting Identification…]

  [Identity Confirmed!]

  Status: Candidate 8

  Mission Objective: Become an Archbishop

  Time Frame: None

  Adam stared at the floating notifications.

  He turned to X and pointed. “Can you see this?”

  “See what?” she asked, looking exactly where he pointed—and seeing nothing.

  Adam said nothing, brows knitting together.

  My Omen is what normally triggers system notifications.

  How did they hijack it to assign me a mission?

  The sensation was deeply unsettling—like being hacked in a way he couldn’t begin to comprehend.

  He reread the objective, jaw tightening.

  I should have expected nothing less from that lunatic.

  The absence of a time frame was especially telling.

  This won’t be easy.

  Adam shifted his focus to the Status field.

  Candidate 8? What does that even mean?

  He looked back at X. “What’s your rank?”

  “Huh?” she blinked. “Why does that matter?”

  “Let me rephrase,” Adam said. “If someone intended to become… say, a Pope. Or a Cardinal. What would they need to do, and how long would it take?”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  X burst into laughter.

  Adam stared at her, unamused.

  “Oh,” she managed between laughs, wiping her eyes. “So you can joke.”

  She froze when she saw his expression.

  “You’re serious?”

  Adam nodded.

  Her brows shot up. “You’re insane,” she muttered softly—loud enough for him to hear.

  Adam smiled faintly and waited.

  “I warned you,” X sighed. “I’ve been a Scavenger since I was ten. In two years, I’ll be eligible for promotion to Bishop.”

  Adam tilted his head slightly.

  Only a Priest?

  Judging by her appearance, she should have been in her late teens or early twenties—unless she wore a specialized mask, or worse, was something that preserved its youth unnaturally.

  “My case is unusual,” X added. “Some who joined when I did are already Bishops. Even Archbishops.”

  “Why?” Adam asked.

  X smiled bitterly. “In organizations like ours, status is ultimately dictated by rank.” Her fingers tightened around the pendant at her neck.

  Adam understood immediately.

  Her combat rank isn’t high enough.

  He also understood what she hadn’t said.

  Eligibility didn’t guarantee promotion.

  X reached into her cleavage again and withdrew a small parchment sealed with green wax.

  “What else are you hiding in there?” Adam muttered.

  She smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  She handed him the parchment. “I was instructed to give you this once you received the amulet—and only if you wanted to know about the hierarchy.”

  Adam smiled thinly.

  I should never make that man my enemy.

  “The contents will only reveal themselves when unlocked with the amulet,” X added.

  Adam pressed the amulet to the wax seal. Azure light spread across the parchment as it reshaped itself into a sealed envelope. He tore it open and unfolded the letter.

  If you’re reading this, you haven’t died yet.

  I suppose that’s an accomplishment.

  Congratulations on becoming a Priest.

  Aim to become an Archbishop as quickly as possible.

  Below is the hierarchy of the Scavengers.

  Memorize it.

  Rank: Pope

  Requirements: S

  Note: Chosen by the 171 Cardinals

  Status: Crucial

  Rank: Cardinal

  Requirements: A / B

  Note: Chosen by the Pope

  Status: Integral

  Rank: Archbishop

  Requirements: B

  Note: Ordained by Cardinals

  Status: Important

  Rank: Bishop

  Requirements: C

  Note: Ordained by Archbishops

  Status: Disposable

  Rank: Priest

  Requirements: D / E

  Note: Only Awakened

  Status: Very disposable

  Rank: Deacon

  Requirements: None

  Note: Not worth mentioning

  Status: Not worth mentioning

  Instead of standard Priest assignments, a special mission has been selected for your development.

  The details are stored within the substitute amulet for Varidan’s.

  It should now be accessible.

  This letter will self-destruct when the text turns red.

  Adam casually tossed the letter aside. The parchment shifted hues—gray to sickly amber—then burst into flame, collapsing into ash before it touched the floor.

  He drew the amulet from his inventory. Beyond the farmhouse coordinates, he hadn’t realized the artifact contained restricted sections.

  Adam pressed his thumb to the sigil.

  His expression hardened as the mission data unfolded.

  Fuck.

  He lifted his gaze to X. “You’ll reach C-rank in two years. Correct?”

  Her eyes flicked to the ashes of the letter, as though connecting the dots. “Yes.”

  “You started as a Deacon?”

  She nodded.

  “When did you begin taking the elixirs?”

  Silence.

  Adam didn’t look away. “When did you start taking them?”

  “…Nine years ago.” Her voice dropped. She lowered her head, unwilling to meet his eyes.

  “Then how long do you have left?”

  X snapped her head up, disbelief flashing across her face. She bit her lip, then shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “Soon. Or thirty years from now. It doesn’t matter.” Her tone hardened. “It’s not like I have a life worth preserving.”

  Adam studied her in silence.

  “I hope it isn’t soon,” he said at last.

  Her brows knit. “Why?” Suspicion crept in. They’d known each other only minutes—too little time for sympathy.

  Adam rose. “Don’t dwell on trivialities. You’ve been activated.” He met her eyes. “Enact Protocol C.”

  Her mouth parted. Hazel eyes widened; her hands trembled.

  “W-what’s the mission?”

  “We report to Marblis. Details will be delivered at the Nuhlum Tombs.”

  X collapsed back onto the bed, shock rippling through her—then blue light flared beneath her robes.

  Transmission crystal? Adam pondered.

  She sat upright and produced the crystal. A rough voice, thick with accent, filled the room. “Greetings, Priests. The Temple of Lord Jolran has transmitted your assignment. Are you prepared to proceed?”

  X looked to Adam.

  He nodded.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Good. Until completion, you will answer to the names Ulric and Uri. Departure for Marblis is at dawn. Good luck.”

  The crystal dimmed. Silence returned.

  Southern Region, Dratol Outskirts…

  Adam and X walked side by side beneath cutting morning winds. Fog smothered the wheat fields, swallowing the land as far as the eye could see. Somewhere within it, rusted metal clanked, distant and irregular, but Adam kept his focus on the road.

  He wore black robes beneath a heavier overcloak supplied by the Scavengers. X matched him in kind.

  “How do we leave?” Adam asked mildly. “Airship. Land. Sea?”

  “There was a terrorist attack last night,” X replied without looking at him. “Southern borders are sealed. We’ll improvise.”

  He nodded.

  They hadn’t gone far when two figures emerged from the fog.

  Is that who I think it is?

  Adam schooled his expression. X halted. “Bow,” she whispered.

  They did as the figures stopped before them.

  “In the presence of he who has seen the light—I am unworthy,” Adam proclaimed fervently. “Unworthy to stand before one who has basked in our Lord’s glory.”

  “You may rise,” Mikan said, chuckling.

  Adam looked up at the smiling Bishop.

  “Departing on assignment?”

  “Yes, Bishop,” X answered.

  “Good.” Mikan patted her shoulder. “Watch over our new recruit. May Lord Jolran’s mercy walk with you.”

  “Thank you, Bishop,” they said together.

  “Go. Don’t let me delay you.”

  They moved deeper into the fog without another word.

  Mikan’s gaze lingered on X until she vanished from sight. Then he turned to the man beside him.

  “What’s caught your eye, Dotson?” Mikan smiled thinly. “Have you developed a taste for her as well?” His tongue slid across his teeth.

  “I’m not like you,” Dotson sneered. “I’m watching the man.”

  Mikan frowned. “Why?”

  “I feel like I’ve met him before.” Dotson kept staring down the road. “Who is he?”

  “A new Priest,” Mikan shrugged. “He’s nothing remarkable. You’re probably still rattled from last night.”

  “Perhaps. But my instincts tell me he’s dangerous.”

  Mikan rolled his eyes. “Your instincts again.” He slung an arm around Dotson’s shoulder. “You know what? I’ll notify the Vohmir branch. They will enlist him as material.” He grinned. “That should put you at ease, right?”

  Dotson relaxed, smiling faintly.

  “That’s better,” Mikan laughed. “So—how are Igor, Bricteva, and Decker holding up? Unlike you, I’m stuck living in this dump.”

  “Careful,” Dotson said lightly. “You never know who’s listening. Let’s speak inside.”

  Mikan only laughed louder as they approached the farmhouse.