Mako, Ana, and Polifemo had barely escaped that casino with their lives.
The first thing Ana did was wrap Mako in a tight hug once they were sure no one was tailing them back at the mansion.
Mako's heart raced. Ana's warmth was a breath of fresh air amid the sudden chaos that had become his life.
In that tender moment in one of the mansion's empty hallways, Polifemo watched the pair with disgust.
"Well, well," he said without a shred of tact, "we don't have time for this, and there are a ton of questions to answer."
'You have no idea,' Mako thought, frowning in confusion at the winged imp.
"For starters, you need to understand that every system works by paying some kind of price," Polifemo said, dead serious.
"What do you mean?" Ana asked.
"You need to give something that stirs your soul. In other words, it always comes down to something tangible. In Fox's case, it was some weird herb from far-off lands. That's what activated his powers," Polifemo deduced.
"Stirs the soul… That sounds pretty abstract," Mako added.
"Yeah, well, less than you'd think. Imitations don't cut it. You know the real from the fake. We know the price we have to pay to get what we want," Polifemo said.
"So, my ability kicked in when I died?" Mako asked.
"Exactly. Well, something like that," Polifemo continued, speaking in riddles.
Polifemo stared straight at Mako, flapping his wings to hover higher and higher.
"In other words, the way your ability works means, without a doubt…"
He paused for dramatic effect. Mako felt a profound truth was about to be revealed.
"Your ability, Quid Pro Quo…"
"Yeah…" Mako replied, impatient.
"It works…"
"Uh-huh."
"Because of one thing."
"Just say it! Spit it out already!"
The imp pondered a moment, flapping his wings before dropping to the floor with a resounding boing.
"You're a masochist," Polifemo blurted, bursting into mocking laughter.
Mako's face went pale.
"Didn't peg you for that kind of freak," Ana said, struggling to stifle a laugh.
"No! Wait—I'm not…!" Mako stammered, flustered.
"Well, if you're not," Polifemo pressed, "do we need to have a heart-to-heart? Mental health's a big deal these days. It's good to open up about your feelings."
Mako didn't find the demon's antics funny at all. Without another word, as Polifemo bounced, Mako kicked him square in the rear, sending him flying from one corner of the room to the other until he stabilized and stopped.
"You ungrateful jerk! You're lucky I'm so aerodynamic! Kicking me! After everything I've done for you!"
"This is serious!" Mako shouted, furious.
"I am being serious! You might not get it, but your ability is… unusual. Every system requires payment—first you activate it, then you figure out what triggers your powers. Money's always near the top of the list."
The three fell silent for a moment.
"In other words," Polifemo continued, "people love money."
"So, what? Isn't life valuable?" Ana asked, her tone grave.
"Yes and no. Quid pro Quo, got it? Giving something for something… of equal value. Mako paid with his life for a second chance."
'Third,' Mako corrected in his mind, touching the scar on his neck.
"You pay for something else. For abilities, powers, whatever. In other words, I don't think you actually die." That was Polifemo's conclusion.
"Well, I felt pretty damn dead," Mako said glumly, recalling the dagger in his chest.
"Okay, but think about it. Once you're dead, there's no coming back. You were probably this close," Polifemo said, trying to ease Mako's mind.
A shiver ran through Mako's body. As he ran his hands over his chest, he could feel the scar left by Fox's dagger.
Meanwhile, Polifemo began explaining with the same serious tone that stirring a person's soul was no simple task. It often required significant resources.
But this detailed discussion about how systems worked, their types, and the benefits they granted to the user's body and soul faded into the background.
Mako was lost, staring blankly into space.
◇◆◇
In the seedy office of Willy Fox, the door swung open.
One of the many goons under Fox's command stepped in, surprised to find the room empty except for his boss slouched in a chair.
'I thought the boss was in an important business meeting,' the goon thought.
"Uh, b-boss, I came to bring you some big news…" The goon froze as he got a better look at Fox's face.
The dim light from the oil lamps hadn't revealed it at first, but now he saw Fox was battered, his face swollen with bruises.
"Pfft! What's the matter, you worm?" Fox said proudly, despite his puffy, beaten face. "Spit it out. I was expecting you anyway."
"Y-Yes, sorry for barging in. It's an urgent message from one of our agents."
Fox eyed the goon with keen interest.
"You mean…" Fox said, nearly leaping from his chair if not for the pain racking his body.
"Yes, sir," the goon continued. "They confirm the assassination will go ahead."
Fox, his face swollen from the beating, managed to flash his usual sinister grin, albeit with a few teeth missing.