My revolver was already in my hand.

  The barrel leveled at his head.

  The Regent only subtly smiled, soaked in silent arrogance. Calm. Amused. His sword still hummed faintly in shadow that had reignited.

  “Don’t even try,” he said softly. “You know how that ends.”

  I gritted my teeth, but he was right. The weight of his presence pressed on me like a tide - his sword, his aura, his shadows. It was immense. The same divine current I’d felt in Arthur plus some, yet… wrong. Different. Like it wasn’t natural.

  Divine Energy felt alive, like it had a mind of its own. It swirled around even without the input of its user.

  Yet, I felt none of that from the Regent. I only felt pure power, divine yet artificial.

  The fact he was only able to use the power after he grabbed the blade meant he was only a wielder - someone who needed a medium to use Divine Energy.

  Yet he never inherited the royal pathway. So how-?

  My eyes shifted to his weapon.

  The same weapon I had seen before.

  The signature blade of an Inquisitor.

  The Regent caught my glance immediately. He nodded with approval. “Good eyes. You’ve noticed.”

  He lowered the sword slightly, shadows peeling away as it folded back into its compact hilt with a soft click. Then he lifted his left hand. A simple silver band gleamed on his index finger. At its centre, a purple stone glowed faintly. An unblinking eye stared from its surface, alive and aware and staring directly into my own eyes.

  The sight made my stomach twist.

  “I’m an inquisitor,” he said. He said it as though he were declaring something menial. “I serve not only as the Regent of the Empire, but as an agent of the Inquisition.”

  My pistol lowered almost on its own. If he wanted me dead, I’d already be in the ground.

  He tucked the hilt back into his coat, tone shifting to something almost conversational. “Tell me, Damian. Do you want power? True power?”

  I hesitated. Then nodded.

  The Regent’s gaze sharpened. “Then join us. Join the Inquisition. Nobility is… limited. They sit on gilded thrones, blind to the gears that turn beneath them. They know only their estates, their titles. But Inquisitors?” He gestured around us, to the empty halls. “We answer to no one but the Inquisition itself. Our sole purpose is the continuation of the Empire. That, I now know, is an ideal you already share.”

  He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “Arthur can mentor you in the light. I will mentor you in the dark. Together, you will climb higher than either path alone could ever take you.”

  I tightened my grip on the revolver, though it was already lowering. “And if I refuse?”

  “Everyone has a choice,” he said smoothly.

  I only shook my head, barely giving it much thought.

  I already planned on joining the military. Being an Inquisitor provides much more authority, and if I’m able to rise through the ranks…

  I’d have more power to combat whatever calamity the man in my dreams seems to warn about.

  I'd be more apprehensive joining such a powerful and enigmatic organisation, but it's not like I have a choice anyway.

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  My eyes remained sharp as I stared at the Regent for a reaction or hint at something more.

  He only stared back with eyes that seemed to spew razors, showing nothing but a calculating gaze.

  Finally, after a moment, I relented.

  “I think you already know my answer.”

  He nodded his head, seemingly pleased yet still remaining cold. “Good, you pass the third and final test.”

  Shocked, I asked. “That was another test.”

  He nodded lightly. “If you had failed the second or third test… I would have killed you. The first test was the last chance for life. After that…” His gaze sharpened. “Death was your only other option.”

  My pulse kicked. “So why call it a choice at all?”

  “Because it was,” he replied, almost casually. “You chose not to die.”

  He smirked faintly. “Good thing, too. Losing a Veilwalker would be… troublesome.” His eyes gleamed with something sharper. “Especially one with two pathways.”

  I could only grimace. The fact he was able to find out and reveal it before me was one thing. But what scared me was knowing that if he was able to find out, others could too.

  “I don’t know how you’ve hidden it, or how you prevented it from awakening before the Cardinal,” the Regent continued. “But that’s good. Very good. It means you can use it as an Inquisitor without anyone tying it back to you. Publicly, your divine energy is red. As an Inquisitior, your Divinity will remain black as night. Ironic, isn't it?”

  My mouth was dry. “…Arthur knows.”

  He waved a hand. “A minimal concern. He's as loyal as he is intelligent. Even if he came to find out, I doubt it would lead to much.”

  He turned and began walking toward the exit doors. “Come. There’s more.”

  I followed, still reeling. “How can you even wield divine energy? You don’t have a pathway. Your divinity feels fake… almost like it's artificial.”

  At that, he glanced at me with a gleam in his eyes, as though he found the question amusing. “Because it is. Unlike the Church, we don’t fear humanity's advancement. We embrace it.” His voice dropped, thick with contempt. “The Church clings to dogma. We forge tools. Rings, blades, engines. Faith is not our chain - it is our forge.”

  I filed that away. His disgust when he said Church was too sharp to ignore.

  I know they aren't the most cooperative. But I wonder how deep the feud is?

  We reached the front hall. The massive doors opened, and two Inquisitors knelt as the Regent stepped through. Black cloaks. Mechanical masks that hissed with faint steam. They flanked us, silent, as we entered his office.

  The room was dark, the air thick with smoke. The Regent lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly before speaking.

  “For now, you’re part of the Empty Hand,” he said. “Probation. Candidates who must prove themselves before joining the Watcher’s Hand - the lowest rank of the Inquisition.”

  “And if I fail?” I asked.

  He puffed out a faint ploom of smoke. “Guess.”

  I stayed quiet. I didn’t need him to say the word.

  I sat across from him. “What’s the mission?”

  He tapped ash into a tray. “Investigate the Cardinal’s death.”

  I blinked. “…The Cardinal?”

  “I have reliable sources he was targeted for a reason. He was investigating something before his disappearance - something that made the heretics want him silenced. I want to know what.”

  “Why me?” I asked. “Why not a real Inquisitor?”

  “Two reasons,” he said, two fingers in the air. “First, because you’ll need access to the Grand Cardinal’s residence. That means going through Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. The Inquisition and the Church aren’t… on friendly terms. Even for me, that door is locked.” He leaned forward slightly. “But Mary owes you. She's one of their most promising saplings. She can open it. ”

  The way he said it - it wasn’t a suggestion. It was certainty.

  “Second,” he went on, “is because I don’t want a blunt hammer. I want your mind. You have potential - divine, yes, even unprecedented - but it’s your rationality, your clarity, your intelligence that made me recruit you. The reason I've been watching you for so long. That’s what I need. Use your head. Find the threads. Pull them until they unravel.”

  I leaned back, exhaling slowly. “So you don’t expect me to retrieve his body.”

  “No.” His eyes narrowed. “I expect you to find information. I have a theory that this information will lead me to his whereabouts. Once you find the information, the professionals can handle the rest.”

  “This won’t be easy.” I muttered.

  “It never is,” the Regent replied. “That’s the world we live in.”

  I gave a slow nod. “Then I’ll try Mary. She can get me into the residence.”

  “She will help you,” he said without hesitation.

  I raised a brow. “You sound sure.”

  He only puffed his cigarette, a curl of smoke drifting from his lips. “Call it a hunch.”

  He crushed the cigarette out and leaned back in his chair. “Your Inquisitorial gear will be waiting at your Inner Rim apartment. Temporary equipment, but better than nothing. Pick it up when you need it.”

  Then his eyes gleamed again, sharp as the sword he’d nearly killed me with.

  “Remember, Damian - secrecy is loyalty. Truth is a blade. Use it well.”