Setting a meeting up with a Church representative really was as easy as sending a message to Heine... via mail, because magi refused to even have phones for some awful reason. No, I knew that awful reason now. They were people who fundamentally chased the glory of magecraft in an age long ended, the Age of Gods.
They resisted the passage of time with all they had, and fought against the weakening of mystery tooth and nail. So, they rejected the technology that heralded the end of mystery completely. It made sense to a degree. However, the truth was that man's technology had already surpassed them in most fields. A .50 cal round to the face spelled doom for almost any magi, no matter how accomplished.
At this point, the best way to go was to capitulate upon the mystery within the things that even science couldn't completely explain at this point in time... like I was doing, but, that would mean going forward when they wished to go backwards. The mere suggestion of abandoning their old glories was a complete heresy warranting a death sentence.
The problem was that, at this rate, they were going to die out.
"Not that I care though," I shrugged to myself, gently nudging open the wooden double doors of the Church Luvia had dropped me off at before. "The New Agers are probably going to figure something out."
Caules was already attempting to mingle modern technology and magecraft, and honestly, I wished the nerd success, he deserved it with how hard-working he was.
"Hark! I did not bring an adult this time but I am no little child so I expect safety!" I announced myself to the empty pews and the kaleidoscopic Virgin Mary staring down at me from within the stained glass casting playful shadows upon the expansive parish hall. "Be forewarned, I will not be entering any basements."
After several moments of silence, the answer came from a familiar voice. "This time I brought my own child so you need not worry. I would still like it if you came to my basement though."
Wut?
A certain monocled priest stepped out of the shadows under the Virgin Mary at the head of the hall. Much like last time we'd met, his form was hidden by a buttoned up cassock that fell down to his boots, his greying hair was neatly combed towards the back, and he held some closed book in one hand.
Father Mark. Mark. That shitty priest that tried to murder me, then ran away when he failed. Yet, I couldn't find it in me to hold a grudge. I liked the guy, even.
"I see that ear hasn't healed." I grinned, noting the scar on his ear.
He simply fixed his monocle. "I see reality is yet to slap you across the face. Again, worry not, God almost always has interesting things in store for your coddled ilk. Greetings, heathen-most-hated, it annoys me to see you hale and hearty."
I snorted.
"Good to see you too, buddy."
He gave a simple nod. Then continued, "Of the request relayed to us by Heine. I imagine you have something to offer in exchange?"
I halted. I genuinely hadn't even put any thought to that part. How? Well, probably because I was too excited about creating the Limitless Cursed Technique. I still acted like I knew everything and tilted my head.
"You first. Can you tell me?"
"Yes." He seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, a hand to his chin. "There is one like that among our ranks. Or, there was. As you are a magus, sharing this information with you poses no threat to us. That's what my superiors decided anyway. Sancraid Phahn. Former Executor for the Holy Church."
I was unfamiliar with the name, but that was only natural. So, I listened, intently, while trying to work out their angle with this. There was no such thing as a free meal, not in this world. The thing was, I had no issue repaying a favour for a favour. That was how it worked. To think otherwise was terribly naive and entitled.
Noting my silence, Mark explained. "He was meant to be executed for being a psychotic murderer, but we know he faked his death and escaped to the United States, his activities are not actively tracked, but one of our associates spotted him in the City of New York not too long ago."
Woah. That was... good, actually. Good old NY was my home too. A place where someone dressed as spiderman could stab a guy after fighting Batman and running from Santa and no one would bat a single eye.
"Now, for your payment-"
I had to ignore his words when the air suddenly shifted. Without thinking, I put a palm behind my head just in time to stop a swift kick from blowing it off. Even then, the force made my reinforced arm tremble under it. With a sigh, my grip around the assailant's leg tightened and I threw whoever had kicked me over my shoulder.
It was... a girl? No, a teenager. No older than 15, with wavy snow-like hair cascading down to her waist and a cute, if not a little dead inside, face. Her golden eyes seemed oddly disinterested. She was dressed in a nun's habit that again, hid most of her body.
She reoriented her small form mid-air with a sudden spin, and landed next to Mark on her two feet.
"...Do you really not expect me to be ready for you to pull this kind of shit?"
Mark raised his hands in surrender. "Not my idea, trust me. And, do you really blame me for trying?"
"Not really."
"I'm glad you're so understanding-... Why are you raising two fingers?"
"What fingers?"
"Er-... What is that blue orb you have there, Henry, my friend?"
With narrowed eyes, I lowered the Blue forming in my hand. Just as I did though, the unfamiliar girl made to attack again. Mark put a hand on her shoulder. He smiled faintly then tightened his grip.
Surprise flashed across her face.
"Control yourself now, Miss Caren. I'm not your caretaker, merely your escort for this assignment, and I am certainly not as nice as whomever has been mentoring you." He smiled wider and withdrew his hand. "As for you Henry, regarding the matter of payment."
Caren, was it?
I kept quiet, half-curious, half-suprised. Evidently, the both of them were not on the same page at all. Or, it was all a ploy to get me to lower my guard. And that, just wasn't happening. Priests gave me the creeps long before I realised they actually were creeps in this world.
"It's a rather easy one. You will find Sancraid. You will kill him. If you die, there's one heathen less. If you win, we shall remember the help. Perhaps I might one day miss another killing blow."
"Yeah, 'miss'." I huffed.
For some reason, he still thought he was the one who spared me back then when I could've folded him like an omelette with his own spells.
"This was not part of the plan." Caren said abruptly, peering up at Mark with empty gold eyes. She jabbed a finger my way. "We were supposed to lure him in with the promise and then kill him."
"How surprising." I chirped.
Yes, truly shocking indeed.
It wasn't like they'd attempted murder without provocation twice now. What a patient man I was, to not chug a Blue their way and be done with it.
"Yes, well." Mark shrugged again. "We were overpowered, regrettably. He physically beat the information out of me and then took you hostage as a guide towards Sancraid! Trust me. A man of the cloth wouldn't dare lie in the House of God. It will be a happy coincidence that he will kill him, and I will take the undeserved credit while denying that I did anything."
Man, I loved this guy.
"This kind of rotten personality is exactly why you haven't been promoted in two decades."
"Where did you learn that?" He fixed his monocle, and gave an unapologetic smile. "Besides, you're mistaken. It's because I accidentally killed some of Cardinal Laurentis' children when I infiltrated the IRA that time. What a hateful man, don't you agree? Anything done in the name of God can't possibly be wrong or grudge-worthy. And, he has like a hundred or so other illegitimate bastards anyway."
He genuinely said some of the craziest shit I'd ever heard. Wasn't a Cardinal supposed to be one of the highest positions in the Holy Church? It was respectworthy that he sired over a hundred kids but it was still insane to consider.
"You've broken the monkey's brain." Caren said blandly, eyes fixed on... me.
The bitch.
"Well, Henry. Good luck. And, I do apologise for shoving this undesirable upon you, there was no else as expendable. The others say she's useful but I disagree. The girl's only use is as a radar for daemons." Mark gave a bow.
"...She's expendable?"
Caren put both hands on her pale cheeks, face still bland, "Someone help, I'm being sold to a pervert... by a pervert. Who even let this person join the Church? He behaves like someone belonging to a circus."
"Don't talk bad about your superiors."
"Ah, Dear Lord. Forgive me for calling my superior an inept idiot, even though he is one, even though he is one."
"Don't say it twice!" Mark grumbled, then turned my way. "See? This is what happens when you let someone be raised by Frenchmen. God should just erase France already."
I observed the exchange in a sort of stupefied silence, not expecting members of the Church to be so... free (?) with their speech.
"Ah yes, because people who eat beans with bread definitely deserve to live." Caren shot back calmly.
I had to speak up at that. "She's not wrong there."
"Fair. But I'm an Irishman, so the English being wiped is of no consequence to me. In fact, I'd prefer it."
"Oi, I'm an Englishman." I suddenly remembered.
Both of them gave me strange smiles.
...
...
...
Cunts.
Shaking my head, I turned to leave.
"Come on then."
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