The Deadman

The interrogation was simple.

To invade the mind requires greater power.

And doing so requires power.

Sir Hawke did not intend to use this method. But the peers of the world had demanded him and there was one witness other than this resurrected man.

“You are telling me that he had been remade?”

“I have collected samples from his ashes,”  Strato said. His head in front of Sir Hawke. “I’ve confirmed that they are roughly the same, if anything the flesh is newer. It is similar to super regeneration.”

Robert Oswald was lifeless.

No, his mind has been put to sleep.

I can’t go further. Is it the Outsider that protects? Yes, that is the only possible answer. Still, the modification done to him is at best supernatural. It is a masterwork of enhancement that if it wasn’t for my eyes. I would have been fooled into thinking that this man’s physique is natural. Supernatural, perhaps, and seems to be made to fit a vessel.

“I see, so is that the way it is?”

Sir Hawke looks at the testament that was made from the memories. Superconductors flowing in every vein and muscle. The stress alone is the same as feeling burning magma inside and then having everything inside melted.

The body is sturdy. The will and spirit as well. However, that was enough to kill him. The spirit survived because it is sturdy, and there are traces of damages in the soul. A scarred soul that made him wonder if it’s even a soul anymore.

It’s like a huge chunk of him has been taken out and then put together into this soul. No, the soul is only strong because it has been forcibly made to resist. It is an interesting masterwork of soul-modification. This Outsider, does it have plans for this world? 

The Monk said that our world has drifted. The development has rapidly evolved, and thus a counter-balance, the millennium bug. The seer speaks like that. The world was moving quietly, and yet with how things are. I do not know how this world will move.

“We’ve strayed from the path. Nonetheless, we have to work. We have to struggle. This information lacks what I need. What we need.”

It is almost a praise. They have made use of their technology and the other methods to gather information regarding what happened in Wisteria. None was spared. Every mind was looked into. The tireless efforts of the Inquisitors and the Agents of the states have allowed them to provide evidence. Information that can be used to judge whether the Lady of Wisteria is suspect of spawning demons into the human world. To accuse a great innovator who is a powerful magus of her own right requires certain steps to be taken. Accusing her isn’t enough to bring her down. She isn’t a citizen of any nation and her island itself is a self-sufficient country that is supported by sophisticated supply chains and contacts that keeps its afloat even if the world is against it.

She’d be a monarch if she was given more power. Then again, the way she commands her legions was already worrying.

The door behind opened unceremoniously and a man wearing a cassock – with hands on his back approached. He wears a necklace around his neck. An iron cross with silver edges and markings written in an old latin inscription that had long been forgotten.

“Elder Hawke. Are you done?”

“I am.”

The man in the cassock studies the still-asleep Oswald.

“So this is the resurrected man that I’ve heard about.”

He takes the document on the side. He reads it. Flipping the pages. He is scanning the document from top to bottom before nodding his head. On the document it says that the document is a testament that came from Strato, the cyborg, and the head of the Wraiths that had been slaying shadows and putting them. This man is their new representative, a hunter of abomination and was present during the time that the Lady of Wisteria allegedly opened the gates of hell.

“The memories that I got from him are inconclusive. They will not be of use in the rebuttal of the Lady. How’s the position of our people?”

“Neutral. We doubt that there will be much we can give. Nonetheless, this is not a trial or a judgment. And the Lady has enough wit to understand that the invitation is simply a way to pressure her.”

To tell her that she is being watched. She might be self–sufficient. And yet the combined will of the whole world can be quite damning. The man in cassock and Sir Hawke detests the politics of the international world. And yet despite their ideals and beliefs. The Churches and the Sects agree on one thing.

To summon demons is crossing the line they didn’t want crossed. To do so is to provoke the church and put the mortal realm in danger. If a summoned demon stays too long in the mortal real, there is a chance that the demon will become a vessel — an avatar of the demon prince that it worships and thus will allow the demon prince to walk the mortal plane and desecrate the lands that the human walk. The Age of Gods was the last time someone entered the lands. It was during that Age where Gods and Pantheon had said to have walked the land that the demons were sent back to hell. The death of the Merciful Son of God had ended that age and had sealed the demons from entering the land. It was said that after the death of the last apostle, John of Patmos, that all miracles and holy tongues have ceased. There is truth to it, and only those who have called to saints to give them strength and blessing that some of the pious servants of the Church could have power.

Sir Hawke’s patron saint is known and the fire he wields is said to be the same fire that burnt the maid of Orleans. 

Robert Oswald opens his eyes. He looks at the man in the cassock before groaning.

“Are we done?”

“Yes.”

Oswald stands up and sizes up the man in the cassock before going to the table where he has placed his gear. He attached the spine-like equipment on his back and then wore the rest of his gear. After tying his suit neatly, he stands before the two, with a fierce eye that demands an answer.

“You may leave,” Hawke said to the man in the cassock. Hawke gestures for Oswald to follow.

The two moved to the inner chamber and then entered an elevator that led him to a high place that seems like it is invisible to the naked eye.

“The Basilica… the burial ground of St. Peter. Forgive me for what I have done to you. It is necessary for me to do this so that others may not touch you. The Inquisitors would have gone far and I do not want to ruin a warrior like you.”

Oswald places his palm on the railing. Eyes on the holiest temple of Christendom.

“I take it that you are not a devotee?”

“No. My parents were. I don’t recall the name of the church, but I believe that they want to spread the words of Christ to the lost world.”

“Then you are somewhat close.”

Sir Hawke has somewhat regained his vitality. No, it is simply the sanctuary itself that is keeping his wound closed and his body moving.

“It is said that when we reach the year of 2100. All of the magic will be lost once more?”

“Another bug?”

“Maybe. The world has been drained and although we have made use of magic nonchalantly, the supply of the arcane has been lost. If anything, the world should thank the Lady of Wisteria for extending the life of the magi-world by destroying the dominion below us.”

“What’s that?”

“A world hidden below our world. We’ve heard news that the Lady has made it her own and we fear that she has the control of an entire world, separated from the mortal plane. You must understand that the mind can conjure strange conclusions —- and many think that she plans to infest the world with demons and then hide away her people in that conquered dominion and let the demons take care of her enemies. And when she comes out she’d rule the world.”

“I don’t think that she is.”

“Tell me. I’ve been told that you spent weeks with the Lady before. Is that true?”

“Yes. Though I don’t think there was much to say. Back then she was just a grieving woman obsessed with a study and research that means something to her. She was reticent, gloomy, that it made me wonder what changed in the years that made her… like this. I don’t see her as a woman who would do something like summon creatures and ruin the lives of people.”

“This is not her first rodeo. She is quite a terrifying woman in her own right. We are not innocent either, and we have the worst. But she has done things that would have sickened the normal individual. Granted that she did not do it herself, but had ordered it.”

Oswald purses his lips.

“I am not that saintly, Sir. I am not innocent myself. I have done things that I should pay for. Did things that I’m not proud to do. We all have done something awful that it is unfair to judge her. It is hypocritical to do so when we ourselves would turn ourselves into uncaring monsters pointed by a vague goal. I don’t have the right.”

“A sentiment I share.”

His eyes became misty. He looks at the sky in silence.

“And yet it changes nothing. People tend to believe that they are righteous and would gladly point out the mistakes of others. Objectively speaking, the way she has operated has made us conclude that she does not seek unnecessary conflict  and that she achieves goals even if it means crushing someone or something underfoot.

“I have been told by Strato about a certain case that you had done before falling asleep for one hundred years. Do you remember that case where a certain family came to disrupt the families? A family associated with a cult that harvests the blood and innards of the young children.”

He grabs his forehead. “The Blessed and the Scorned.”

“That is right. You were marked with Scorned and lost your life. Or you should have, but you survived and lived.”

A storm brewed on Oswald’s face. His eyes narrow and there is fierceness that is leaking out of his face. Sir Hawke decided to continue speaking the truth that they had learned.

“It was said that the explosion that tore the souls out of the citizens that were marked with scorn on that fateful day were fed into a machine or a vessel of power that resembles the energy readings and the architecture of the spell construct that was made to facilitate said spell. It is similar, very similar, but this time the energy that exploded, creating that shape you have witnessed are contained.”

“The superconductors contained them.” Oswald bit his molars. “Is this really true? Is she the one responsible for that?”

“Our finds say so.”

Oswald faced him down. “So why tell me all of this? Do you expect me to do something about it? Put a damn bullet on someone you seem to speak with respect and slight fear? Last time I remember, I didn’t stand a chance when she was half–distracted and controlling a powerful machine.  I can’t be your hired gun.”

“You do not belong.”

“Huh?”

“Despite working with Strato. You do not belong to anyone or anything. If the Lady of Wisteria is eliminated or removed from her position. The world might know peace.”

Oswald snorts loudly. “What bullshit is that? You’ll be turning her fanatics into beasts.”

“And beasts can be tamed.”

“This is lunacy.”

“Yes, and most think that it should be done.”

“Do you think that as well, Sir?”

Oswald said to Sir Hawke with a certain emotion that made Hawke confused. He thought of it and shake his head. Oswald looked away with a stiff upper lip.

“She’ll be here soon. Join us, if you mind.”

“I will think about it,” Oswald declared.