Rod went blank."He was an enemy… Aren't we supposed to kill enemies?"
Laurent's gray eyes weighed him, as if testing truth from lies."He was the most important lead in the Redstone case, and the only Polluter cultist in our custody. We had a great many facts to extract from him—and you needed him as a witness. He could not die."
Rod's heart sank.He hadn't thought that far. He couldn't find the spirit-lock, saw the true body, and pulled the trigger on instinct.He hadn't expected the shot to actually kill him.
Now his suspicion would only deepen—he looked like someone destroying evidence.
"Can't you interrogate the soul?" he blurted. "He just died. Maybe a summoning, or psych—"
He cut himself off.Bas's soul… might be with me.
Laurent shook his head. "Special review isn't omnipotent. Even with extreme measures we glean only fragments—much of it needs decryption and context. Souls aren't books you can leaf through at will. And…"
He glanced at Bas's corpse and frowned."His soul has already dispersed—this fast. Corruption… or a Polluter trick?"
Panic pricked Rod. Soul devouring was taboo. If they noticed, he was finished.But Laurent didn't press him, didn't mention the anomalies. He lowered the staff from Rod's throat, rubbing his chin.
"This was an accident—my fault, not yours. I didn't expect you to pinpoint his true body. He was using Siglais's Ancient Soul Sigil; without specialist training, it's nearly impossible to find in time. I meant to corner him gradually—to force more information out."
A faint sigh; a shade of regret.
"It's likely your Soul Seed's trait. The Machina Institute researchers are… creative. They probably replaced the original sense with what they imagined. Your seed isn't 'Black Bowl'—that's his codename."
Rod nearly laughed—then remembered the whirlpool he was still in and swallowed it."What do we do now?"
"I'll adjust my report—underscore the danger of the fight and imply you were in mortal peril. But if anyone asks you questions, you answer exactly as it happened. Do not lie. Understand?"
"I understand."
Laurent tidied the scene in broad strokes.
Soon, investigators arrived—wide-brim hats, black cloaks—took over the site and began a thorough sweep.Rod was questioned. He followed Laurent's guidance, recounted everything truthfully—only omitting the black filament and the soul anomaly.They didn't press. He signed the statement with a palm mark.
"Return to the Academy," Laurent said, short and spare.
An investigator escorted Rod into a fresh horseless coach.As the wheels turned, the man drew the curtains.
Rod's last glimpse: the dim street, the huge warehouse, and silhouettes working under thin pools of light—a sea of darkness swallowing everything, leaving those few glows like lone candles on a windswept waste, ready to gutter at any moment.
…
The warehouse yielded far fewer useful clues than Laurent had hoped.As reports came in from other teams, his heart sank further.With so much cost for so little gain, he knew the next hurdle would be hard to clear.
Back at the Office of Inquisition, the grilling was severe.
"My negligence caused this failure," Laurent said at the adjudication council. "I accept full responsibility."
"Full responsibility?" said a man in the front row, face hidden behind an iron mask."We spent dearly to get that lead, and you 'lost' it? Can you afford this loss?"
"How rare," a thin, short old man sneered. "Our ace can fail. Failure is one thing—what if he's a traitor who destroyed evidence on purpose?"
Frowns creased faces on the high benches.
"That is an irrational, unnecessary accusation," another voice said.
The iron mask rose to speak, surveying the hall. "Not slander. A high-tier combatant fails on this kind of mission—odd, isn't it? Against common sense, wouldn't you say?"
A blond middle-aged man shook his head. "People err. You should not flay a man who works the most dangerous posts year after year."
"Even if I grant an error," Iron Mask snapped, "how did a freshly ignited novice pierceSiglais's Soul Sigil? He's hiding something."
The blond replied, "Because his ability counters the enemy. Bas specializes in concealment and deceit—this boy specializes in piercing fog—"
"Lies!" Iron Mask barked. "His seed is Black Bowl. Obviously he excels at eating. What does that have to do with piercing fog?"
"That is the Machina Institute's mis—"
"Enough."
At the highest seat, the High Adjudicator cut them off."Manolobana. Mipol. Your conclusions."
Iron Mask—Manolobana—spoke coldly. "Suspend Laurent immediately. Investigate him for dereliction. Subject the primary culprit of the Redstone case, Rod, to special review—minimal cost for maximum leads. Our leniency was a mistake; now we correct it."
The blond—Mipol—offered the opposite."Laurent should not be punished. We still have other leads. The sole survivor of Redstone, Rod, has shown unexpected potential. I propose granting him limited clearance and bespoke cultivation."
"Absurd!" Manolobana thundered. "Reward the murderer and the derelict?"
"Enough," said the High Adjudicator.
"We proceed with Mipol's proposal. Manolobana's, on record."
No one objected further. They bowed as one."As you will, Lord Lucien."
But the light flickering in Manolobana's eyes said his tongue and mind were not aligned.
…
Elsewhere, Rod finally returned to Kinworth Academy.