For the lack of a better term, Seventh Seven was scared shitless.

  He had been dragged to a room with delightful decor for enhanced interrogation, chained to a table, and now a creepy elf was slowly crushing his shoulder after an Identify.

  The spell had clearly revealed something damning from Seventh's Status, and the Chief Inspector across the table was sighing deeply and reaching for tea.

  “So, it was a trained Class after all?” Tanner asked before sipping his tea. Peering at Seventh over the mug. “At this point, I strongly recome—“

  “Apapap! Not from the Necromancy! He has a touch of Divine in him,” Tobias said in a sing-song voice, clearly interrupting Tanner's flow.

  The elf leaned closer to Seventh, who noticed the raisins and oatmeal in Tobias' breath. “Whose divine domain have you sullied to gain such a stigma? Hmmmh? Was it War? Your hand slipped and crushed a civilian's skull? Profane magic defying Knowledge? Foul resurrection? Transformation of lead to gold?”

  “Tobias!” Tanner snapped at the speeding elf. His voice had started to crack in his outpouring of words, and his pupils were pinpricks.

  Hurrying from the other side of the table, Tanner smiled at his partner and spoke in a hushing tone. “Calm down a bit, okay? Here, take my tea. Yes, drink it, bottoms up. Do you need your medicine? Your head alright?”

  The caring inspector led Tobias back to the corner where he slurped the offered tea. The plate of cookies was forgotten on a side table.

  What. The. Fuck, Seventh thought as he leaned as far as possible from the dangerous elf. Not only had he slammed Seventh with Identify, he also casually chanted half a spellbook's worth of some high-ranking spells.

  Oh yeah, and the way he talks— creepy.

  Seventh cleared his throat. “So, yeah. If that was all...” He tried to stand up but was interrupted before he even rattled his chains properly.

  “Sit down.” Tanner's voice vibrated through Seventh's bones, and he slammed back to the chair. He could feel aftershocks of the order rippling inside his skull, fighting against his free will.

  That's bloody wonderful! If it only helped at all! Seventh thought as he was compelled to sit down. Interesting, Ashen Will works while everything else is suppressed. That goes to the list.

  The pressure eased fractionally, but the Necromancer remained seated. He heard Tanner whispering with Tobias before returning to his seat. He started drumming his fingers on the table while in thought.

  TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP

  TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP

  Seventh gulped.

  TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP

  TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP

  "So... Uh... Is there a problem?" Seventh asked. “I don't know what is going on."

  “Continuing on where Tobias left things,” Tanner said, tone hard as steel. “Which god did you anger? How, and why? Please note that my hospitality has gone out of the window and my tolerance for smoke and mirrors with it.”

  His fingers never stopped drumming.

  TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP

  TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP

  Seventh gulped again. “The God of Hunting, Monsters. He wanted me to commit genocide on a ratkin clan. I refused.”

  Tanner's fingers stopped, and his stare almost burned a hole through Seventh.

  “That's what he said! God of Hunting, Monsters! A bestial guy who chopped my arm off, yelled nonsense about two left feet!”

  “What happened after you refused your Divine Quest?”

  Trying to remember the foggy memories, Seventh stammered before speaking. “He-he-he smiled? Burning sensation inside my head, laughing, and then I was whole again, wounds knitted back together.”

  “Why did you refuse the Quest?”

  “Because it was the right thing to do,” Seventh said, gaining more confidence in his voice and straightening his back once more. “I'm not a butcher that just runs around killing innocents.”

  A snort escaped from Tanner.

  “Hey, I'm not gonna lie,” Seventh defended himself. “I had killed some of them, but they tried to kill me back. I was just... better.”

  “Not what I was snorting about,” Tanner said. “I was picturing an innocent dungeon monster. They're just mindless beasts that only obey the dungeon's rules, attacking everything not born inside.”

  Seventh bit his tongue not to speak his own beliefs and observations about the ratkin. He wasn't here to argue about ratkin culture or try to change Tanner's opinions about them. It would also probably count as “smoke and mirrors”, Tanner warned about.

  TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP

  TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP

  Tanner slowly shifted his gaze between Seventh and Tobias. The Chief Inspector's face was granite, impossible to read, but Seventh could swear there were some fractional changes. Just a little bit less stern?

  “Sir?”

  The fingers stopped drumming, and Tanner's eyes settled on Seventh.

  “Could you please tell me what is going on? All I did was to meet a god— at least I'm starting to believe he was one— and try to join a guild. A legal guild of a legal Class. I have done nothing wrong.”

  “You think you haven't done anything wrong.” Tanner shifted in his seat, leaning back, stroking his unkempt beard. “But the fact is, you bear the displeasure of the gods in you. That is something very difficult to do. If it were Taboo, I'd have killed you on the spot, no questions asked.”

  “Strike down the Heretic who soils the Gift of Classes,” Tobias whispered from the corner, voice like a midnight wind brushing through a graveyard. A chill spread through Seventh's spine. It had nothing to do with the voice itself, but the words, the same words Degen had used.

  Tanner turned towards his companion. “Has he? Soiled the Classes? Did you get the Corruption Skill description?”

  “No. Just a name, general information before I was... interrupted.”

  “And?”

  “The Void of Entropy, Inventory-Skill for biological matter.”

  “I see. Do you know this... God of Hunting Monsters? An aspect of War? Demigod?”

  “No,” Tobias rasped. “He is not a demigod. An old god. Forgotten god.”

  “Shit,” Tanner said with a grimace. “He's going to keep his claws on Mister Seven then.”

  Tanner rubbed the bridge of his nose, deep in thought. The pondering was cut short by the clatter of a plate. Seventh jumped in his seat, almost forgotten by the two other men. Tanner looked almost surprised to see him still in the room. Tobias muttered something about cookies on the floor.

  Tanner's fingers rose for another drumming but paused midair. “Why do you want to be an adventurer?”

  “Sir?”

  “After all that— the teleportation, the dungeon, and the god— why adventuring? Don't you just want to go to a farm somewhere, meet a nice girl, raise a lot of children and little wheat?”

  Seventh met the investigator's eye and kept silent for a moment before answering. “Because it is my Path now— I guess.”

  Tobias snorted behind, tried to cackle, but broke into a coughing fit.

  “Right,” Tanner said, worriedly looking behind Seventh. “For the time being, you can go.”

  “Okay, I just need a key to these,” Seventh said as he rattled his chained manacles. “And I'm off your hair.”

  “Stay.” This time, there weren't bone shaking vibrations in the voice, but Seventh obeyed nevertheless by sitting still.

  “I am far from happy where this... interview went, and I will want to ask more questions from you, but for the time being, you can join a guild, do your fetch quests, kill some monsters, but the moment you step out of the line, the moment I get a sniff of something out of the ordinary— some odd god in a dungeon will be the least of your worries. Capisce?”

  All the way to the end, Seventh eagerly nodded along, but the odd word made him furrow his brow. “Was that... elvish? Capush?”

  Tanner waved his hand. “Never mind that. I'll get someone to take the details of the Skill, and you can continue the day.”

  “Another Identify? Can't I just... write it down? You have some fresh parchment and a quill lying around.” Seventh said while eyeing the cylindrical quill. He wanted to know what it was, and more importantly, he wanted to test it.

  To his immeasurable disappointment, Tanner snatched the quill and snapped it closed before it disappeared back to his trouser pocket. A smile tugged the interrogator's mouth.

  That bastard. Was a test run too much to ask?

  “My apprentice will handle the parchment-pushing. She also has the key to those manacles, so behave,” Tanner said as he helped weakened Tobias up. He continued with a mumble, “She might just keep you chained up for the night if you piss her off...”

  Seventh swallowed snark about being chained up. “So, is she the one behind the illusory wall?”

  The two men stopped to stare at Seventh. Tobias, with wildly spinning eyes, Tanner with a mild surprise flashing in his face. Both turned to look at the wall with the window, a tin plate with honey on the windowsill.

  "How long did you know?" Tanner finally asked.

  Seventh shrugged. "Knew? After the tea. Suspected? From the start."

  "Miller, the jig is up. Take his skill description."

  The windowed wall started to warble, colours shifting, until it collapsed and revealed an identical wall and window but four feet further away and a woman standing next to the window. The distant sound of hooves and feet meeting cobblestone filled the room, accompanied by the smells of the city

  She wore similar clean clothes to Tanner, only slightly more formfitting, and her star symbol, clasped to her vest, was colored steel, not silver like Tanner's.

  The light from the window settled over her golden hair, outlining a face of delicate symmetry, clear green eyes, defined cheekbones, and lips poised in a light scowl. An expression no man wants to see on any woman's face.

  Seventh's smug smile of being right about the wall vanished the instant he saw her expression and the thin sword in her right hand.

  I'm going to be here for the night, chained up, aren't I?

  "Meeting room after you are done, Miller," Tanner said before leading Tobias out. The exhausted elf flicked his hand, and a handful of still intact cookies hovered over the table, brushing themselves off from floor dust, and parked next to the still steaming tea.

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  “Yes, sir,” she replied, and briskly walked to take a seat. Before sitting, she raised her weapon arm and let go of the blade. It disappeared in a flash of light, leaving Seventh dumbfoundedly blinking the bright spots out of his vision.

  “I need a nail, Miller, the correct nail,” Tobias whispered before the door closed.

  Blinking his vision clear, Seventh saw Miller turn towards the door and made a friendly smile. “Of course, Tobias. I can make any kind of nail you want. Later today, okay?”

  The door closed, and Miller sipped her tea from the fourth cup— quill and inkpot at the ready. "You may begin."

  “Why were you armed?” Seventh asked, ignoring the command.

  “It was a precaution in case the interrogation got... heated. Sometimes you have to stab someone to make them more docile,” Miller said calmly.

  Seventh grimaced. “Stabbing a guy for getting excited from casting Identify? That's just cold.”

  Miller looked at Seventh over her tea. “I would never stab Tobias. He is way too cinnamon bun for that.”

  Seventh sucked in his lips when the coin dropped in his head. Now was the proper time to follow her orders. “Ah, so you just want me to rattle off the Skill description, or do you want mana costs and such?”

  “That is how this works. Please tell me everything you can, as precisely as you can,” Miller said as she lowered her mug.

  “Okey-dokey then. Void of Entropy (FF). Type: Active – Storage / Utility...” Seventh spoke in a slow, dull monotone. Stopping only when Miller dipped her quill for more ink.

  Within five minutes, the Skill Description was done, and the ink was drying. Miller checked her work while Seventh absently checked the real room. It was slightly roomier, but still had that forced interrogation vibe.

  The silence was broken only by the sounds of a city wafting through the window. Miller picked up one of the cookies and dunked it into the tea before biting it.

  “Oh no, you're one of those people.”

  She stopped chewing to glare at Seventh. He suddenly felt the chances of him walking out of the room today slipping away.

  “Excuse me?” Her voice had a dangerous amount of flint in it.

  “I mean...nothing wrong with that, I know many people who ruin their tea by dipping cookies in— I might have done it even myself with hardtack— but ah...”

  I really shouldn't have said “ruin”, right? Seventh thought as he cleared his throat with a cough and reached for his own mug. He realised it was empty only when the mug touched his lips. He still made the sipping gesture.

  “Did you just take a sip from an empty mug?” Miller asked, thin eyebrow and a corner of her mouth raising up.

  “Nope,” Seventh lied. “Just finished it now. See?” He turned his mug upside down to show its emptiness. “All gone. Just now. After that sip.”

  Miller made a slight snort, and a small, lopsided smile flashed on her lips.

  Victory!

  Moving the Skill description aside, Miller started working on two other pieces of parchment. They were small pieces filled with text, almost like permission slips for schoolchildren.

  “Take these downstairs, a clerk will check them, and give them an official seal,” Miller said, and pushed the slips of parchment towards Seventh. He could see the titles: 'Proof of Interview' and 'Proof of Abnormal Attribute'.

  “I take it I shouldn't lose either of them?”

  “Correct.” Miller picked up a second cookie, almost dunked it in the tea before stopping and making a small peek at Seventh. She started eating the cookie dry.

  Nibbling at the cookie, Miller leaned back and looked out the window. Seventh stayed quiet just in case he would say or do something stupid to ruin his escape chances.

  “So, how did you figure out my illusion?” Miller's question was casual, but Seventh could hear some annoyance behind it.

  “Do I get out of these if I tell you?” Seventh said while rattling his chains.

  Miller gave him a smirk. “If you behave like a good boy.”

  Okay, not sure if that is better or worse. “That would mean I get out of these even without answering you. How about some quid pro quo, Miller? I answer you, and you answer me. Your...master? Nah, mentor didn't really answer my question.”

  Miller picked up another cookie. “Ask away.”

  “What is going on? I mean, really going on? What's Corruption? I have perused the Book of the System, but there wasn't anything about Corruption.”

  “That was more than one question, but I can give you some answers.”

  Seventh waited. Then he waited some more before groaning in annoyance. “Will you tell me?”

  “You first.”

  “It was the tin plate.”

  Furrowing her brow, Miller turned to inspect the plate on the window still. Its honey was still sticky, and the trio of dead flies hadn't moved.

  “I copied it exactly. It was perfect.”

  It was Seventh's turn to smirk. “Nope.”

  Her glare made Seventh hastily continue. “Yes, the illusion looked like exactly the real thing, but you didn't— or couldn't— copy the Death Mana.

  The Apprentice Investigator squinted her eyes, changing her focus between Seventh and the plate before her eyes opened in a realisation. “Shit. You're a Necromancer— of course, you can see Death Mana. Perception Skill?”

  “Death Sense. I snoticed the mana being weirdly off-center. That was the first clue, though,” Seventh said and shrugged. “There were more tells.”

  “Oh?”

  The duo sat again in silence.

  Miller rolled her eyes. “Fine. I can't tell you much, but we have been interrog— interviewing local Necromancers for our case, there's a strong Necromancer connection to investigate. That's why you are here, just some dumb old luck. The second tell?”

  “Tea mugs. Tanner said 'tea for everyone’, but whoever made the tea knew you were here, but didn't know you were hidden.”

  Miller nodded. “Were there more clues?”

  “At least one.”

  “Corruption is a little complicated one to tell in one sitting— one clue for a quickie and one for a tip?” Miller asked casually.

  “I-uh-wha?” Seventh's ears felt suddenly very hot and very red.

  “I meant,” Miller said with a dangerous smile. “I tell you the basics now and give you a name for a good book. Is that acceptable?”

  “Ey-yh-yeah, that's— yeah, sure,” Seventh said while recentering himself. “The last one was sound. I didn't hear the street even when the window was open. You probably didn't notice since you were at the other side.”

  “Probably. So, Corruption,” Miller said while searching for a better position on her hard wooden chair. “I am not an expert, but there is The Book of Right Measures and Deviant Growths— local cathedral should have one, although their clergymen are... anyway, Corruption...”

  She seemed to drift off. She bit her lower lip with a frown.

  “You don't really know, do you?” Seventh asked dryly. “And what's with the weird book names lately?”

  Miller shrugged her mild embarrassment off her face. “It's a Church book. They all are the book of this and that— and I know about it, it's just harder to explain than I thought.”

  “Eh, I'm simple, use small words.”

  “What do you know about advanced or evolved classes?”

  “They are manifestations of person's truest self? Something the System grants to you when the four basic Attributes can't express your class,” Seventh, quoted almost verbatim from The Book of the System. He knew perusing it before coming here would be useful. “The Book of the System gushed about Paladins and Priests gaining Blessed and or Holy Attributes.”

  “Correct,” Miller said and pointed at Seventh. “Corruption is similar, but it is given by the gods. A marking for other mortals, so to speak. Like all Skills, Classes, and Attributes, it is neutral, but there have been some cases where persons of interest carrying Corruption have caused... incidents.”

  Seventh sat more straight in his seat. “Like what?”

  “We don't need to go into specifics, given your Necromancer class and—“

  “Like what?” Seventh added anger in his voice. “I'd like to know what kind of divine fuckery is messing up my life.”

  Miller licked her lips. “Desolation of Nalkareth, a single Necromancer commanding an army of millions of undead. He almost snuffed all life from the continent by himself, stacking bodies until they overwhelmed the walls and swarmed into the cities. A strike force of tens of thousands of adventurers finally took him out— after devastating losses.”

  Seventh took in the information silently. He hadn't considered something like a single extra Attribute being so powerful. All it did was give him a single Skill, he hadn't even ranked either up. What made it so dangerous?

  “How's any of that even possible? I can just store bodies and other crap! How is that dangerous?!” He waved his hand wildly, making the chains rattle around, almost knocking over an inkpot. “It's just an Inventory Skill with extra steps!”

  “Calm down,” Miller said while securing the ink. “Those are the extreme cases, when someone ranks all the way up to double-B or higher. A single extra Attribute with weird Skill synergies can make all the difference. Surely you have seen how useful your skill is?”

  “Sure, I can make it rain ratkin undead. Very useful in a battle, but I don't see myself desolating an entire continent with a trick.”

  “Yet,” Miller said harshly. “It starts with a useful trick in battle, turning into a tactic in a war, to something that forges kingdoms— or destroys them. What if you can make it rain in a whole continent, instantly killing the civilian population and making more minions? Necromancers are the ultimate skirmishers, every killed enemy is a new ally. Undead don't eat or sleep, they march tirelessly over the world with one order.”

  Seventh's shoulders slumped, and he stared at his hands. Something that destroys kingdoms, huh? Maybe in the higher ranks, dropping Fang from his voidspace counts as a weapon of mass casualty.

  He snorted silently at an image of pissed off Fang being dropped in the middle of a charging knight formation.

  “Oh, destroying kingdoms is funny to you?” Miller asked incredulously.

  Seventh lifted his head and met her green eyes. “No, but you or anybody else thinking that I could do that is funny. I'm in this whole mess because I didn't do that.”

  “People change. You can't know who you are in decades and centuries to come.”

  “Sure, but the basic...” Seventh's counter-argument changed into mild confusion. Did she just say centuries?

  “What?” Miller asked.

  Seventh flicked his hand. Now wasn't the time to ask blindingly stupid questions. He could taste his freedom. “Nothing. I just realised I don't need to argue about this. All I have to do is show I am right by my actions. So, are we done here? I have things to do, places to be.”

  Miller finished the last cookie while staring at Seventh and tapping her finger softly on the table. Seventh tried to make his best approximation of I-am-not-someone-suspicious-smile.

  Miller swiped her hands clean on her trousers while raising up. “Sure, Mister Seven. You are free to go.”

  She closed her right hand into a fist. Yellow light flashed between her fingers and made the back of her hand briefly translucent. Opening the hand revealed a key had appeared on her hand. Miller gestured for Seventh to lift his arms and unlocked the manacles.

  “You can just call me Seventh,” he said while rubbing his wrists. He cocked his head in thought. “Or Sam. It was thrown around yesterday, but I'm not sure about having a nickname.”

  “You don't look like Sam,” Miller said while opening the door and gesturing for Seventh to exit. He decided to linger a bit.

  "Okay? Who do I look like then?"

  Miller shrugged. "Don't know. Not Sam"

  “Alright then. See you around, Inspector Miller,” Seventh said before picking up the permission slips and approaching the door.

  He didn't get far. The door suddenly closed right in front of him, barely missing his nose. Miller's hand was still on the door handle when she took a step, invading Seventh's personal space, looking up into his eyes.

  “Just one more thing... Where did you say you were from again?” she asked close to him, almost touching.

  She wore one of her small, knowing smiles, head tilted, eyes bright with interest. Seventh could feel her warm breath on his skin— sweet with raisins— and his brain froze.

  He said the first thing his surprised mind came up with. “Hamlet?”

  “Was that a question?” Miller asked, smile widening.

  “No?”

  Miller's eyebrow rose, she was still waiting for a proper response. There wasn't one.

  “I can lie again if you don't believe me,” Seventh said with all the confidence he could find. That actually made Miller laugh out loud a little bit.

  She stepped back and opened the door again. “See you around... Mister Seven.”

  Seventh nodded with an awkward smile and walked briskly towards the stairway. Miller observed his retreat and waved at him when Seventh looked over his shoulder and doubled his pace.

  The door closed, and the room seemed bigger to Miller. She looked at the tin plate and tsked to herself. Walking back to the table, she saw the parchment with the details of Void of Entropy. It was by far the most detailed description of a Skill she had ever seen.

  Something was off about him, Seventh Seven. Tanner probably had some private suspicions, but hadn't voiced them. If Seventh was the one they were looking for, her instructor would have continued the interrogation himself, but that wasn't clearly the case. Maybe Tobias' seizure had clouded Tanner's judgment? If so, it was badly timed.

  "God of Hunting Monsters?" she whispered out loud. Is there even such a thing?

  She collected the parchments Tanner left behind, and as ordered, joined him and Tobias in the meeting room. It was the same one where they had met with the Guildmaster, but now there was a mess of red strings connecting parchments nailed to the wall.

  Tanner leaned over a parchment, working on a charcoal drawing, and Tobias was taking a nap on a pushed aside sofa. His hands were clutching the tin can where the nails were kept.

  “How did he take it?” Tanner asked without lifting his eyes from his work.

  “Shocked. Maybe a little bit angry. He wanted to know more, so I told him about The Book of Right Measures and Deviant Growths,” Miller answered crisply.

  Tanner's hand stopped as he looked over at his apprentice. “A little bit harsh to call him a deviant, don't you think?”

  “I, uh.” Miller licked her lips nervously. “I didn't think it like that. And for what it's worth, I don't believe he took it that way. He was relieved that he wasn't going to get jailed.”

  “There's always time for that,” Tanner said nonchalantly. He continued the drawing.

  “Having Corruption isn't illegal, not here at least. Why not just help him to find answers?”

  “He can go to any temple and get a priest instantly there to answer any and all of his questions,” Tanner said. He tilted his head fractionally and corrected shadowing. “And we have our own job to do.”

  “Sir? Do you believe he is connected to the von Strauss case somehow?”

  “Not yet, but his timing is suspect. You did the last question thing?”

  “Yes, sir. He lied, brazenly even.”

  Tanner grunted, annoyed. “Again with the 'sirs' today? What did I do this time?”

  Miller stood straighter, almost at attention. “If you don't believe he has done something, why chain him up? Why the charades? Why the odd question?”

  “Because all that matters,” Tanner answered with a cool tone. “Someday, you will see the whole picture. Did he do or say anything else?”

  Miller thought for a while. “He seemed genuinely shocked that ranking up extends your lifespan. And there was this odd phrase, quid pro quo, he used.”

  Tanner's fingers stopped smudging, and he craned his neck to look at Miller. “How did he use it? Did he say a name?”

  “Yes, my name.”

  “Oh.” There was tension in Tanner's voice. The next bit came with a creepy voice, “Quid pro quo, Miller?”

  “Yes, like that, but not the creep factor. He was... smug.”

  “Interesting, very interesting.” Tanner stared at the distance for a while before looking at the drawing. He handed it to Miller, and she saw Seventh's face with a goofy smile.

  “Why this face?” Miller asked with an amused tone.

  “I have been drawing grouchy Necromancers for weeks now. I needed a change. Where do you think he fits in all this?” Tanner asked while gesturing towards the red-stringed wall.

  It was a collection of reports, old Identify results of other Necromancers, surveillance data, and Tanner's illustrations of everyone they had interrogated in the past two weeks. All of them were members of Corpse Flower, and all were cleared of suspicion.

  Miller looked over the wall, followed the complex web of string— Tobias had always loved connecting strings— and searched for a proper spot. Not seeing one, she took a nail from the tin cup and walked across the room. She pinned down Seventh's portrait away from the others.

  Tanner chuckled. “My thoughts exactly. He doesn't fit there, probably just a deserter from the north, one of the smaller kingdoms. He might actually have accidentally teleported here for all I know. Tobias seemed to think so, and he is always right about wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff.”

  “I see,” Miller said, pleased with herself. She ignored the peculiarity Tanner used— all older Inspectors sprinkled their speech with oddities, and she had gotten used to them. “So we move to the next city?”

  “We do— Tobias and I— but you stay here.”

  “Sir?” Miller asked, almost offended.

  Tanner walked next to her, admiring his newest drawing. A predatory smile slowly rose to his lips. “Quid pro quo, Miller. Time to see if you can handle a small investigation on your own.”