Sassel—who had spent the first half of his life as a mage in the army and the latter half still as a mage serving the Senate, essentially a mage for life—took advantage of the split second when Jeanne awoke to pry open her fingers and grip the scroll tightly. With a straight face, he said:
"Fine. The midnight assault failed. I'm leaving."
Jeanne said nothing, staring at him in silence.
Sassel continued, "Can you let go of my hand now?"
"Don't bother me with nonsense," Jeanne replied, her face curling into a twisted smile. This time, she grabbed the black sorcerer's wrist. "Put down what's in your hand."
Sassel licked the corner of his mouth. A beam of incandescent light streamed out from between his lips, tracing a sharp arc under the dusky ceiling—like a miniature lighthouse beacon.
"I can confirm that you have no tokens on your person," he said with a smile, locking eyes with the woman before him. "All you've got is that armor so shabby it belongs in the trash. You even lost your sword and that ridiculous headpiece."
The beam of white light circled Sassel's neck, then twisted and coiled into itself with eerie ease. It wasn't flame or pure light, but a white-hot serpent, its entire body shimmering and flickering like a burning grassland. The serpent slithered around Sassel's throat, its body about a finger thick. Its end rose like a snake's head and slowly split open, revealing a face—eyeless, just a gaping, rough maw. Its forked tongue was eerily similar to the one Sassel had in his soul form: long, thin, flashing like a beacon. It opened its mouth toward Jeanne.
Jeanne ignored the threat, staring him down without flinching.
"You want this thing badly, don't you?"
"Brilliant. What an astute observation." The blazing white serpent slithered down Sassel's arm, radiating intense heat. Jeanne felt the burn crawl across her skin as the serpent neared.
"Do you even know what this is, Sassel Betrafio?"
"Who knows?" he replied indifferently. "Could be the dark elves' pathway, Kulad Galai. Or maybe the snow demons' pathway, Omtos Felak. Might even be the dragons' first path, Stavo Demeran."
Jeanne raised her free hand and smacked the white serpent off Sassel's arm.
"Hey! What the hell! What if I really had channeled power from a Pathway?"
"My arm's been broken more than ten times," Jeanne said coolly, still gripping his wrist tight. "If you actually try to threaten me with power from a Pathway, I'll take the first chance I get and slice that arm off."
"It's a miracle you're still alive."
"I'm alive because everyone who stood across from me ended up dead. Not just with a severed arm."
Jeanne shrugged and pressed on:
"You know we can't connect to these Pathways, so what exactly are you planning to do with my token?"
"Do you know what my profession is?"
"My subordinate knight," Jeanne replied effortlessly.
"Screw your knight! I'm a black sorcerer! Just seven years ago, I was still part of the upper echelon serving the Senate!"
"Stop daydreaming and drop the curiosity. Black sorcerers are rats on the street now. You'll never be anything but my subordinate knight again—a rat."
Sassel's face twitched. That felt like an insult. "Knights can have hobbies, can't they? Like researching ancient Pathways?"
Jeanne eyed him expressionlessly.
"That's a token of the First Throne. You know what that means, right?"
"Oh, the First Throne! I'm very curious about the Temas—whether it's their indestructible flint swords, their shapeshifter-forging magic, or even their Pathway, Teneon. I'm interested in all of it," Sassel said.
"Your curiosity could bring me a world of trouble, black sorcerer."
"Oh, now you remember I'm a black sorcerer?"
Jeanne's face twitched, too.
"No. I don't."
"Cut the jokes. Now tell me—what do you intend to do with a token from the First Throne that you brought back from a dream?"
"This was given to me by Steel Inquisitor Taksaal," Jeanne said. "The Church made a pact with the First Throne a long time ago."
"Steel... Steel what?"
"You tell me—what's the 'Steel' in that title?" Jeanne sneered. She climbed down from the bed, tugged up the loose shoulder of her nightgown with her left hand, and dragged Sassel's arm with her right like she was hauling a mop. "Perfect. I've had trouble connecting with the Path of Light. You want to study this thing? Fine. I'll supervise you while you study. The method of study is to provide it with energy and use it to summon the Temas."
"Wait, you want to summon Temas from the First Throne here?" Sassel sucked in a sharp breath, reeling from both the mention of the Steel Inquisitor and the revelation of the Church's close ties to the First Throne. "You're joking, right? You want to start a war in this hellhole!?"
"Didn't you say you were curious about their magic? Here's your up-close opportunity. To destroy the snow demon god-ascendant Hood—who fell from divinity to mere immortality—how many Temas do you think will come to this Pathway?"
"No," Sassel shook his head, forcing himself to stay calm. "Those beings are still scattered, and there are barriers from the outer gods that restrict access to Pathway powers. Even if those ancient Pathways aren't heavily affected, I doubt many Temas would show up—let alone their shaman bone-forgers."
"Exactly why I need you to contribute more magic—starting today, until we leave this Pathway," Jeanne said as she pinned his wrist against the wall, the one clutching the token. She watched him with a sinister smile, speaking slowly and clearly: "Sassel Betrafio."
I'm going to die from overwork, Sassel thought to himself, then muttered:
"Do I get vacation time and a raise afterward?"
It seemed he no longer had a choice.
"No," Jeanne let go of his wrist, her tone slow, as if genuinely regretting that the Inquisitor hadn't just executed the black sorcerer outright. "Once we leave the Pathway, we'll head straight to Castle Kass—the place etched into your memory. There, a nun who has studied demonic Pathways will evaluate your condition."
"...That another one of the Inquisitor's orders?"
"You're catching on fast, Sassel." Jeanne reached up again to adjust her shoulder strap, which kept slipping off—it seemed the nightgown was a bit loose. "If you've got a problem with it, I can introduce you to Lord Taksaal—go talk to him yourself."
"I'd rather negotiate with a projection of an outer god than with the Steel Inquisitor."
"Suit yourself," she said. "Now get out and wait for me—I need to change. Once I'm done, we'll head outside to prepare for the first contact ritual."