“Is it my face?” Iphis asked.
“What?”
Iphis looked back at Hunter, meeting her eyes with his own as he said, “It’s just that I’m very handsome, and sometimes people think that means I’m stupid.”
She opened her mouth, unsure for a while how to respond to that, and eventually concluded, “Kid… you’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
“I can’t think of any other reason you’d start lying, considering how clear I made myself earlier,” he said, absently stroking the flat of his dagger.
“I’m not lying! You just said you believed in other worlds!”
“That’s fine, but expecting me to believe the Goddess sent you? You couldn’t think of a better story?”
“How is that the problem? Are you an atheist or something?? Do you guys even have those here???”
“Alright.” Taking in a deep breath, Iphis got to his feet, crossed his arms, and asked, “So why’d She send you?”
More importantly, if She planned to send Ianthe (or someone else inside Ianthe) to assist them, why present her as an enemy in all of the game’s future scenarios?
Iphis might not be privy to everything about it—nobody was outside of the Saints—but he was very clear on how the Goddess expected Ianthe to mistreat her chosen ones.
“That… She…. That stuff is why I wanted to talk to the Saint,” Hunter mumbled, visibly uncomfortable.
“She’s not here, so you’ll have to make do with me.”
“Hey, no offense, but for what I hope are obvious reasons, I don’t trust you,” she said, giving a meaningful look down at the chair she was tied to and back to him.
“Come now, are you really going to hold that against me? If you suspected one of your professors was a demon, would you let them run around and just hope they didn’t eat your students?”
“Uh, well… that’s not really a problem I’m used to having, but no, I guess not. Huh.” She seemed to calm down a little at that, her face thoughtful.
“Anyway, I’m part of the Golden Shield, I serve the Saint directly. She trusts me, so why won’t you?” Iphis asked, making a sharp gesture towards himself out of impatience.
There was something very serious going on here, and it was right in front of him, but every time he thought he was about to grasp it, Hunter tugged it another step away.
That was maddening enough on its own, but the way she kept doubting Iphis’ loyalty to the Saint was even more aggravating. He got enough of that from other people in the Temple, he didn’t need it from some stranger as well.
“Oh, then I take it nobody who works for the Temple has ever betrayed you guys, right?” she said, her tone sarcastic. “I got Ianthe’s brain, okay? I know how the Order operates, they’re like fucking [Scientologists] when it comes to worming their way into places they shouldn’t, and I don’t wanna risk getting someone killed just ‘coz I don’t know enough!”
Iphis stilled, the casual air around him fading away.
She didn’t seem to notice and continued, “If the Saint wants to bring you in on what I got to say, then fine, but I won’t be the one making that… call… um…”
She finally realized something was wrong, and shut her mouth.
“Well… I suppose you’ve got a point there, don’t you?” he agreed, voice soft.
She was right, that had happened. More than once, in fact.
One of the more serious incidents involved a few people who’d managed to slip through the Temple’s cracks. They’d passed all the checks and cleared the tests and then kept quiet for decades while they worked unobtrusive roles and steadily gained experience, and they’d done it all so that one day they could use what fragments of information they could access to make a move.
As a result, one of his closest friends lost her life, and the Young Saint nearly did as well.
Over and over, people who he’d never even think to suspect turned out to be part of the Order, and in the wake of betrayal after betrayal all he had left was a suffocating feeling he didn’t like and couldn’t name.
Perhaps Hunter had been referencing something specific, perhaps she hadn’t. As far as he knew, Ianthe wasn’t active in the Order, but he was certain she was highly ranked enough to know if she wanted to. Either way, it was a good reminder. Now that Hunter had chosen not to cooperate, he might as well wrap things up.
“Uh… hey buddy, you okay?”
Coming back to himself, he glanced down at her and she flinched.
Realizing she’d touched a sore spot, she lowered her eyes and offered, “Look, I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me, alright? Just not… the other stuff.”
“Don’t worry, you’ve told me plenty,” he reassured her. Then, holding the dagger up so she could get a clear look at it, he asked, “Hey, do you want to hear about the special thing this knife does?”
The dagger didn’t look like much, he had to be honest. Its metal was a uniform dark gray and its design was basic and unadorned, as though it were no different from the sort of weapon anyone could pick up for a handful of drachmas. The only notable thing about it was how old it looked, the criss-crossing pattern on its handle worn down to almost nothing, its blade scratched and its edge chipped.
“H-hey, hold on, there’s no need for that,” she protested. Despite turning her face away, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from darting looks at it, and very briefly, so fast he almost missed it, she seemed… just a little curious?
He laughed in surprise, a cold thrill of joy rushing through his veins. He really adored strange weapons, and it was always a pleasure to meet a fellow enthusiast, even in such unpleasant circumstances.
“Oh? You really are interested, aren’t you?”
“No! Hey, weren’t we talking fine just a second ago? Why don’t we—”
“First, let me explain why I don’t believe you. It’s not just because you claim to have met the Goddess.”
He began to pace to one side of her, idly tapping the flat of the blade against his palm as he did.
“Let’s start here: outside of stories, human souls don’t transmigrate. Sometimes people are reborn and eventually remember their past, but they don’t travel about like demons or spirits do…” He paused and shot her a skeptical look. “Unless you’re saying you’re the exception? You’re just that special?”
She dragged her eyes away from the dagger as she grumbled, “Come on, demons and reincarnation and other worlds, that you’re fine with, but showing up to the party late is where you draw the line? Pal, sometimes weird shit just happens.”
“Mmhm, hold on, there’s more.” He gave her a few pats on the shoulder as he moved behind her. “A body without a mortal soul is just a corpse. A ghost could fill it, albeit briefly, but I’d know if you were a ghost. Anything else that wants a human body needs a soul to hang onto, which means you’ve either eaten Ianthe, or she’s still in there somewhere.”
“Okay, but I am a human!” she snapped, “I’m not talking out of my ass, I have her memories, and I’m telling you she didn’t die, she left! The circles she used are still in her secret room, I cleaned it up a bit but I can describe what it was like when I—”
Stepping to her other side, he clapped one gloved hand over her mouth to shut her up, then bent down so he could speak to her face to face. “Regarding your claim about meeting the Goddess, I’ll have you know that the Dread Lady is exceedingly picky about who She gives memories to. The only people who ever get that gift are Her Saints, Hunter.”
He released her, then leaned one forearm onto each of her shoulders from behind, a pose that would have been far chummier if the dagger in his right hand wasn’t now casually held in front of her. “Are you trying to tell me you’re a Saint?”
She shut her mouth and refused to look at him, but he didn’t mind. This close he could see the delicate flutter of her dark red eyelashes, see the muscles of her throat tense and roll as she swallowed, watch as a bead of sweat crawled down the side of her neck. Just as it was about to reach her collar, he swiftly moved the tip of his dagger and caught it, and in response her whole body violently flinched.
Holding the dagger back up, he studied how the small bead of moisture made the dark metal shine and asked, “Well?”
“I—no, of course I’m not saying that, I—maybe I was mistaken,” she said, her voice hoarse.
“You seemed so sure a few moments ago.”
“Hey, I’m—I’m new at this!”
“That’s right, I forgot. Well, then I’ll give you an easy one: since you interacted with the Goddess, what did She look like?”
“Um, that’s… I’m not sure how to—“
“Come on, I’m giving you a good opportunity here, don’t waste it.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, the muscles in her jaw twitching with tension. “I, ahh… I remember a woman in a veil, okay? She was kind of laying down awkwardly, like something was wrong with her legs and, um—!”
He pressed the tip of the dagger under her chin, forcing her to tilt her face up to avoid breaking the skin.
“Wait! Wait, ahaha, I’m not done, I said that’s what I remember, but that’s not what I saw! ‘Coz I—I remember thinking to myself, ‘holy shit, why’s she got so many eyes and arms and, and fuck are those even arms?’ And there was something else behind her, something really big and it was moving but I don’t know what it was! Every time I try to remember it I feel like I’m doing it wrong and, and it makes my head hurt, and I know that sounds crazy but I swear it’s the truth!”
Oh. Oh?
Now this was a first.
He’d run into plenty of frauds over the years claiming to have witnessed the divine, and they were all the same. They’d describe the gods as beautiful or mighty or frightening but they’d never mention just how difficult it was to actually look at them, how what one’s mind was willing to see ended up layered on top of what one actually saw, leaving behind a painful and distorted memory like a water-logged palimpsest.
He leaned his chin down on her shoulder and rested the side of his head against hers, ignoring her shuddering breaths as he thought.
If he was being honest, he had yet to get the impression that she was lying to him, and even if she was a good enough actress to pull that off, why do it with such an outlandish story?
What if what she was saying was true? What if she’d met the Lady, and the Lady really had sent her here? If so, why? How many Saints did She plan to load them up with? It was going to get crowded at this rate; they barely had the staff to cover two of them.
Still, there was one big problem with her story remaining.
“If you met the Lady, why didn’t She bless you?”
“What? What do you mean?”
He’d ended up sort of draped over her from behind, and in this position he lazily complained, “She respected you enough to speak with you, and make some kind of deal with you, and send you here in a way no one else has ever been sent, but She didn’t give you any of Her divinity? Nothing at all?”
“I—what, was I supposed to ask for Her card!? I told you I’m new at this!”
“How unfortunate,” he sighed, then straightened up so he could hold the dagger in front of her at eye level. “Hey, watch this.”
He pressed two fingers against the base of the blade, then began channeling mana into it as he slowly dragged them towards the tip. In the wake of this motion swirling, muted colors began to swim across the metal, reflecting the light with an oily sheen.
“Pretty, isn’t it? Kind of like a rainbow,” he observed, tilting it so she could see how the colors shifted.
“Yeah, it’s real fuckin’ pretty,” she rasped. “Any chance this means I can go now?”
“No, I don’t think you’ll understand why it’s so unique without a demonstration. Mind lending a hand?”
He silently commanded one of the tentacles holding her wrists to wrap around her left hand and pull it forward.
“No! Test it on yourself you psycho!” she shouted, struggling and straining against the thing grabbing her wrist. When she finally caught sight of it, her eyes widened in horror. “Is that a fucking tentacle!?”
“You’re focusing on the wrong thing.”
“Pretty fucking sure I’m not!”
“Calm down, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Screw you, you—ahh!”
He overestimated her strength and accidentally pulled a little too hard on her arm. There was an abrupt popping sound, and she let out a low moan of pain as her shoulder was wrenched from its socket. Ignoring that, he quickly maneuvered her now-weakened limb to press her palm flat against the wide wooden armrest, then secured the rest of her forearm along with it.
“Ahh—ugh—fuck! Son of a bitch, that hurts!” she cried, panting from pain and exertion.
“I warned you,“ he replied, his calm voice and gentle expression a stark contrast to her exhausted fury.
“Fuck you! I'm going to kill you, you little shit!”
“Hold that thought, we’re almost done.”
With his chest leaned against the back of her chair, he reached down and placed his black-gloved hand on top of her pale one, interspersing their fingers like the keys of a piano.
“[God], why is it always the left hand?” she whispered under her breath. “I only just got a new one…”
“Pay attention,” he commanded, and tapped the dagger against her throat.
In response she froze and held her breath.
“You see, other than looking pretty, the thing I like about this dagger is that even if I cut you right here…”
He pressed it gently against one of her carotid arteries, and made a sawing motion to demonstrate.
“Or here,” and tapped it against her swelling shoulder joint, eliciting another pained gasp.
“Or here,” he continued, setting its edge across the base of both of their pointer fingers, “You won’t bleed.”
“What? How does that make sense…?” she asked, too disoriented by pain and stress to grasp what he said immediately.
“I mean everything else this dagger does is the same as a normal knife—it cuts, you feel it, you can even slice something off… but no matter how you do it, the wounds can’t bleed.”
He watched all the color drain from her face as realization sank in, and smiled.
In a soft voice he continued, “Hunter, this is your last chance to tell me the truth. I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t like being lied to.”
“L-look, if you just—just give me a minute t-to think,” she stuttered, beginning to shiver uncontrollably.
“Why should I? You want me to let you near the holiest woman in the Empire who is, more importantly, a family member dear to my heart, and all you’ve got to convince me is the body of her enemy and a half-baked story?”
“I—hey, I w-want to tell you, I would tell you something if, if it only involved me, b-but—”
“Hunter, do you want to know what I like about doing interrogations for the Temple?” he asked, leaning in so close to her ear that his lips nearly touched it, his hair brushing against hers. “As long as I keep you alive, our healers can fix anything. That means I can take you apart, piece by piece, until you’re nothing but a torso.”
He pressed the blade down harder and she gasped, jerking against the restraints.
“… And then they’ll put you back together so we can do it all over again.”
She didn’t reply, just turned her head away from him. Each short and fast breath she took hissed between her clenched teeth, drops of sweat dripping from her chin.
“Or, you can tell me what I want to know, and I’ll let you go.”
He waited, and when she still didn’t reply, he took that silence as a refusal and adjusted his grip on the dagger. He was much taller than her, and his arms were longer. It wasn’t too hard to get the leverage he needed.
“Wait! Wait, wait wait wait, look, I’m—I’m just doing my best here, okay man?! I’ve—I’ve only been here two days—I’ve only been a man in a fucking woman’s body for two days—everyone thinks I’m evil, and there’s a—a fucking cult out to get me—I swear I’m not lying, I want to help you guys, so can’t you—can’t you just look into things a little more first!?” she (or, he?) begged, turning to Iphis with his eyes red and wet like he was on the verge of tears.
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t have time for that.”
“Well—well then fuck you, you psycho son of a bitch! I’m not putting my d—I’m not risking anyone else, I don’t care who the fuck you are!” he snarled, fear and fury mingling as his mismatched eyes glared right back into Iphis’. “You think I’m afraid of you? I've been dealing with shit like this since before you were born! You’re nothing to me, you pathetic little fuck! So if you want to do it then just fucking do it!”
Iphis stared back at him expressionlessly, ignoring Hunter’s anger in favor of cataloging all the little involuntary responses his body was making. His dilated eyes, the goosebumps on his neck, the subtle tremors running through him, and more… all signs that were hard to fake, signs that indicated high levels of stress and fear and anger.
Yet, despite all of this, Iphis still didn’t feel hungry at all.
“Alright,” he agreed, and pressed down with the dagger in one quick, violent movement.
What followed was a sick, wet ‘crack!’ as he cut through the base of his own index finger where it was pressed down right next to Hunter’s.
“Ahh!”
Hunter recoiled in shock as though he’d been cut instead, only to watch in confused disbelief as Iphis’ finger, no longer attached to anything, slid from the armrest and fell to the floor with a gentle ‘plop.’
“See?” Iphis gestured at the empty space with his dagger, lifting his hand off Hunter’s so he could flip it a few times to demonstrate. “Doesn’t bleed, not even a little.”
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” Hunter screamed directly into his ear, so loud it made him wince in surprise and back away.
“Why are you complaining? I tested it on myself just like you suggested,” he muttered, his expression aggrieved as he walked back around the chair to face him. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”
“You—you—!”
“Oh, hold on, that reminds me,” he said and, recalling something Hunter mentioned earlier, pointed the dagger at his sternum in a gap between the buttons of his blouse.
Hunter cringed and shut his eyes as Iphis flicked it upward, slicing through the row of buttons so it fell open to reveal the bandages beneath it.
“Huh. You know, I was wondering what you’d done to Ianthe’s chest, but I thought it’d be rude to ask,” Iphis frowned, tapping the dagger against his own cheek thoughtfully.
“Can you fucking not!?”
“Are you really a man?”
“Yes, of course!”
“All this time I thought you were a woman… I should have thought to ask, I apologize for that.”
He’d known Ianthe for so long that he hadn’t even noticed himself making the assumption until Hunter clarified things. How embarrassing.
“That’s what you’re apologizing for!?” Hunter snapped, breathless with indignation.
“Right! I apologize about your shoulder, too, I didn’t mean to do that…”
He paused, about to offer Hunter a potion, only to realize he’d already given it to him earlier to get him to wake up faster. With an awkward cough, he offered, “Do you want me to pop it back in for you?”
“No! Don’t you fucking touch me!”
“Alright, alright, I won’t…”
Damn, between the woman thing and the shoulder thing, he’d really messed up a lot tonight, hadn’t he?
Looking down, he couldn’t help but get distracted once more by Hunter’s bandages. How long had Hunter said he’d been in that body? Around two days?
He knew it would probably be better to leave well enough alone, but he’d never been good at that, so despite trying to hold back his mouth went on anyway, “Hunter, I think you’ve wrapped those too tightly, that’s not good for your health.”
“Are you serious!?”
“There’s no shame in being new at something. You just need some practice, or better yet I could refer you to a tailor.”
“Shut up! Just fucking shut up!!!” Hunter spat, somehow just as furious at Iphis’ abrupt change in attitude as he’d been at the threats. “What the fuck are you going on about? Weren’t you going to—why are you—?”
“No, I’m done with that now,” Iphis waved his hand dismissively. “I just needed to make sure you weren’t a demon, and see if you’d stick to your story.”
“You… hhhh… heughh…” Hunter breathed unsteadily, shivering as he said, “This whole conversation has been fucking whiplash, you know that?”
“I understand. Do you need a few minutes alone? I’ve been meaning to take a look at Ianthe’s secret room, and I already took some of your mana for it earlier.”
“You took what? No, forget that, I want you to get your fucking tentacles off of me!”
“Ah, that I can’t do. Even if you’re not a demon, you’ve still stolen a body. You’re going to have to remain under arrest until the Saint gets a chance to look at you.”
“I thought you were just saying I couldn’t meet her!”
“Well, not as a demon, but as a human or a spirit it’s fine,” Iphis shrugged. “She’ll be here in a few days, she’s already agreed to talk to you.”
“Great, that’s… that’s great, I’m so happy,” Hunter muttered, though he didn’t look it.
Iphis, belatedly realizing he was still missing a finger, frowned down at the floor and began looking for it.
“Hey,” Hunter said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, “Just wondering… how do you know I’m not a demon?”
“Um… Because if you were, I'd want to eat you by now,” Iphis said, poking at the dark carpet with the toe of his shoe. He hadn’t considered how hard it’d be to find a piece of black glove on this kind of surface, and found himself wishing he’d paid more attention when he’d cut it off.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I can’t see demons, but if I make them angry or scared enough, I can sort of ‘smell’ them…?” Iphis crouched down, checking under Hunter’s chair. “And the scent makes me really hungry.”
Alright, he was underselling the feeling a little bit. It was less ‘hungry’ and more ‘ravenous,’ a nearly irresistible urge to violently bite and devour heedless of the consequences, but he’d already scared Hunter enough and figured he probably didn’t need to know that detail.
That said, Iphis did feel like he could go for a snack, but that probably had a lot more to do with how many hours it’d been since he’d eaten than anything demonic.
“Sure, why not? That’s no crazier than any of the other fucking bullshit,” Hunter mumbled. “What would you have done if I was a demon?”
“Tortured you for information, then killed you,” Iphis replied cheerfully, brightening as he finally discovered his finger a few inches under Ianthe’s desk.
“[Note to fucking self],” Hunter mumbled under his breath, then paused as he watched Iphis stand back up and try to align his severed finger with his wounded hand.
“That dagger thing was some kind of trick, right? You wouldn’t actually…”
“What? No, how would I fake a wound not bleeding? It’s not like I could cheat and cauterize it, you’d smell the burning flesh,” Iphis refuted, misunderstanding the source of Hunter’s concern. “Or, oh, maybe you thought my finger was fake? I can cut off most of my forearm instead, would that be more convincing?”
He couldn’t feel any pain in it until around his elbows, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t normally bleed if he sliced through it. Putting his finger down on Ianthe’s desk, he pushed up his left sleeve, shifting his own mana cuff back as he did so, and positioned the dagger above his gloved wrist—
“Stop! I believe you, okay! Stop cutting things off, you lunatic! You’re lucky I’m not squeamish or I’d be freaking the hell out right now!”
“Alright, if you insist,” Iphis replied and slipped the dagger back into its storage space, then picked his finger back up. Holding it about an inch from where it’d been severed, he briefly activated one of those abilities Calliope didn’t want him to use. Dark, rootlike threads extended across the gap, piercing into the finger and pulling it back onto his hand. In only a few seconds it was neatly reattached, and he flexed his hand a few times to test it out.
Hunter, watching this in open disgust, asked, “Are you… human?”
Iphis shrugged, made a ‘so-so’ gesture with his healed hand, and then pulled out his receiver to send a message.
“Good news Chiron, he’s not a demon. Oh, but he is a he, and he says his name is Hunter.”
“Wait… Chiron?” Hunter asked.
Chiron’s reply came quickly, saying, “You’re absolutely sure? And you checked him for seals?”
“Yes, I was very thorough. Maybe too thorough, I may have accidentally hurt him a little, but nothing fatal.”
“Do you mean the fucking Arch-healer!?”
“Hey, don’t talk while I’m recording, it’s rude,” Iphis chided, then sent off the message.
“Was he the one who sold me out!?”
“Hold on—”
Another message arrived, and Chiron ordered, “I want her—no, him—at the infirmary in half an hour.”
“Mmm, damn,” Iphis said. Now that he knew Hunter wasn’t a demon, he’d been hoping to talk with him about other world stuff.
“Hey! Focus!”
“Huh? Right! Yes, he did, sort of, but mostly I think you just have rotten luck,” Iphis said, taking a seat on Ianthe’s desk and crossing his legs. “Chiron and I have been watching Ianthe for years waiting for… well, not this, but something like it to happen, so you'd have been found out regardless.”
“You were?” Hunter murmured, momentarily stunned. Then his face twisted in fury and he began yelling in another language, “[That fucking spider bitch set me up, didn’t She!? She sent me right to you guys, fuck! To think I was gonna apologize for cursing at Her, the fucking nerve—!]”
Hunter went on like this for a few minutes, and Iphis sat and quietly listened, meanwhile noting a few interesting-sounding words to ask about later.
Once he’d finally tuckered himself out, still breathing heavily, Hunter asked, “Wait… why were you watching Ianthe? As far as I know, except for who her dad is, she’s never done anything to bother the Temple.”
“I’m afraid that’s classified,” Iphis said, shaking his head.
He had quite a few reasons to suspect that Hunter already knew about the game, but that didn’t mean Iphis was permitted to speak about it himself. Normally he wouldn’t hesitate to break a rule if he found it inconvenient, but this was the sort of thing that could get him taken off the mission altogether if he wasn’t careful, so he reluctantly kept his mouth shut.
“No, no, hold on—you… you already know she’s the villainess, don’t you?!”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Iphis lied, while on the inside he was quietly tallying up what he’d observed from Hunter so far.
There was the concern he’d expressed for the students that morning, the way he’d approached the girls without any malice, the way he’d offered to make a cohort for Psyche, even how he’d refused to reveal sensitive information to anyone but the Saint. Considering it all together, Iphis couldn’t help but get the feeling that he and Hunter were trying to protect the same people from one another, which was rather funny now that he thought about it.
Iphis almost mentioned this to Hunter, but noticing that the harried man was once again muttering feverishly to himself in another language, he decided not to. Iphis knew he was in that familiar stage where he needed to carefully coax someone who hated him into liking him despite their best judgment, which meant it’d be best not to risk angering Hunter further.
“[How would those guys know about the game unless—fuck, unless my girl told them!? But—but that wasn’t in the game! None of this past life bullshit was in the game! But if she was gonna be working with them anyway, then… then fuck, why wouldn’t she? Holy shit, why didn’t I think of that!? Why am I such a fucking idiot!?]”
“Are you alright?” Iphis asked, seeing that Hunter was looking more lifeless by the minute.
“Yeah, yeah, just… can you do me a favor and knock me out again? I don’t want to be conscious anymore.”
“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Iphis refused.
Still, he shared some of Hunter’s frustration. It would be far easier if they could just be honest with one another, and with that thought in mind he said, “I probably should have clarified earlier, but was there any particular reason why you’ll only speak to the Saint?”
Hunter glared up at him and insisted, “Yes! I thought about it, okay!? I picked her ‘coz she, ya know, she’s directly linked with the Lady, so she’s the only person I could think of who couldn’t betray Her!”
“Really, is that all? Because I—”
“Oh yeah, yeah, I know who you are, but that doesn’t mean shit! People betray their family members all the time!”
“No, I mean, would you be willing to talk to someone who couldn’t betray the Lord?”
“Which Lord?”
“The Lord Underground. The Lady’s husband.”
“Uhhh, maybe? He’s one of the big three, right? I’m pretty sure He hates that King guy too, but where would I…”
Hunter trailed off, and then his eyes narrowed and he shot Iphis a poisonous glare.
Iphis coughed and looked away, twiddling his thumbs as he felt just the slightest, most infinitesimal twinge of guilt.
It’s not like it was his fault. People with divine blessings rarely revealed them if they could help it, so of course he hadn’t considered bringing it up, especially not to a stranger who might be an enemy. Anyway, if Hunter was human, then this whole process could have been skipped if the Lady had just given him a divine blessing! Iphis had no idea why She wouldn’t under the circumstances, unless Hunter had done something to royally piss Her off.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, you smug shit-fucking bastard!”
“If all you were looking for was someone with a divine blessing, you could have just said so…”
“What? But why would I—a divine blessing, isn’t that just a really strong blessing?” Hunter asked, confused.
“No? It’s what connects the Saint directly to the Lady, but she’s not the only one who has something like it.”
“What? I thought she was special, like the [Pope]?”
Iphis wasn’t sure what a Pope was, but he clarified anyway. “She is special, but it’s the Lady’s gifted memories that make her special.”
Not a lot of people knew that last part, but still. Divine blessings were rare but they weren’t a secret, and hadn’t Hunter said he’d gotten Ianthe’s memories? Shouldn’t he know this already?
“I… that… No, you know what? I don’t care, I’m done. With you, with all of this—apparently you guys already know everything, so I’m good,” Hunter said with a bitter laugh, and sank down in his chair angrily.
“No, wait!“ Iphis protested, unwilling to let go so easily. “If I prove I have a divine connection to the Lord, will you tell me?”
Iphis really wanted to know! He wanted to know so badly that it felt like his own curiosity was about to eat him alive! If he’d known earlier that divinity was all Hunter was looking for he’d have revealed that first, found everything out, and then threatened to dismember him!
“No.”
“Why not!?”
“‘Coz I can just wait for the Saint. She’ll be here in a few days, right? Like you said.”
“But you’ll still be under arrest until she clears you!”
“Good. I’m hoping for a dark cell somewhere quiet, I could use the break.”
No! No no no no! Iphis couldn’t stand the idea of waiting that long, not when everything was right in front of him! He briefly considered threatening Hunter again, but considering how stubborn the man was, Iphis suspected that’d only make him refuse harder. Coming up with an idea, he smacked his fist into his palm and said, “What if I convinced Chiron to give you better treatment?”
“What kind of better treatment? Hunter asked, finally appearing interested.
“What about house arrest?”
“Is that all?”
“Ah…” Iphis paused and tried to think of the things he’d wanted when he was locked up. Mana? Warmth? Sunlight? No, Hunter would already have those in Ianthe’s apartment. “How about books? Or good food? Or both?”
“Both,” Hunter said decisively, “And I want coffee. Not just roasted beans, a way to grind and brew it too.”
“I can do that,” Iphis quickly agreed. “Do we have a deal?”
“Maybe… prove yourself first.”
“Right! Just give me a second.”
Telling someone about his divine blessing was the easy part. The difficult bit was proving it, because the only way to do that was to reveal his corruption, and that meant circumventing the geas that prohibited him from doing that. Trying to defy it felt a lot like slamming his brain against an overwhelming feeling of impending doom over and over again, and that dizzying experience got worse as each new person he revealed it to was added to the geas’ burden.
“Uh, you’re not gonna be sick, are you? Seriously, deal’s off if you barf on me” Hunter threatened.
“I. Am. Fine,” Iphis insisted, gritting his teeth and trying to focus through the relentless waves of dread and despair flooding his mind.
The compulsion finally began to weaken, and he used that opportunity to pinch the tip of his left glove and pull it off, revealing a clawed and blackened hand.
“What the fuck is that?”
“That’s a geas taking effect on you,” Iphis explained, swallowing back the heavy nausea the spell’s activation gave him, “You won’t be able to talk about this to anyone who doesn’t already know.”
“No, I meant your fucked up hand!”
“Oh.” Iphis got to his feet and grimaced down at his hand. From a distance it seemed solid, but up close it looked less like flesh and more like thick, roiling smoke trapped in a hand-like shape. “Don’t worry, it’s just a side effect of my blessing. Now hold still, you’ll probably feel some discomfort.”
“Hey, wait, you never told me it’d be this weird!” Hunter protested, but was cut off when Iphis placed his dark hand over Hunter’s eyes.
Once the geas finished connecting and he was fully released from its effects, he realized he wasn’t sure why he’d grabbed Hunter like that. Touching skin anywhere should have been enough, but for some reason he’d looked into that bright green eye and felt a strong urge to cover it.
Then he realized he had no idea how long he’d been standing there holding onto Hunter and abruptly let go. He hadn’t planned to do it for more than a second, but somehow he’d lost track of time.
Hunter, who’d been sitting very still with his eyes closed, slowly opened them. Then he scowled, moving his mouth like he was tasting something bad, and swallowed hard.
“Hey, Iphis?”
“Yes, Hunter?”
“Never fucking do that again.”
“It wasn’t that bad, was it?”
“It… was not bad the first times,” Hunter said, his eyes distant as though he was busy looking at something else far off, “But uh… Way worse now that I have bones, and… and meat. Not a good combo.”
“You’ve felt divinity before?” Now that Hunter was under the geas, Iphis had no reason to put his glove back on, so he sat down in front of Hunter and leaned one cheek against his black hand as he mused, “Huh… you really did meet a god, didn’t you?”
“Yep.”
“Well… fuck,” Iphis said.
Two Saints, an early Calamity, and now whatever this was. That couldn’t be good, could it?
“So… you believe I’m connected to the Lord now, don’t you?”
“Wish I didn’t, but yes.”
“So that means you’ll tell me everything?”
“Ahaha… ahahaha ahh…” Hunter started laughing and then kept going, cackling harder and harder until the corners of his eyes were red with tears and he was breathless and gasping.
Iphis began to feel uncomfortable.
“Is… that a yes?”
“No,” Hunter said with a big smile.
“What? Why not!?”
“Because I hate you. I hate you so fucking much.”
Iphis glared at him, but that just made him start laughing again.
“What about our deal? Are you really going to refuse to tell me out of spite?”
“Yes, and it feels great,” Hunter breathed out, closing his eyes with a happy expression.
Iphis was about to start arguing, but a ping came through on his receiver. Assuming it was Chiron ordering him to hurry, he picked it up and activated it without thinking, only to realize too late that it was the Young Saint, speaking so fast and high pitched that she was almost unintelligible.
“Hi Professor, haha, so I’m totally fine and not in any danger, but I was wondering if you had time to meet?”
Iphis frowned down at the receiver.
She hadn’t said any key words or phrases to indicate she couldn’t speak freely, so why did he have a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach?
“Shit, is that Euphy? That’s not good,” Hunter said, his expression sobering as he sat up straight.
“What do you mean by that?” Iphis asked, internally kicking himself for making such a careless mistake.
“I mean the last time I got an ‘I’m fine and not in danger,’ it’s ‘coz she was just in a [bus] crash, and the time before that her sleepover turned into a house fire.” Hunter paused, and he seemed to struggle with some difficult and unpleasant decision. Finally, he continued reluctantly, “For the record, I hate you, and I still don’t trust you. But if you’re actually her mentor then you need to get to her right now.”
“But, how do you know that?”
“Because I’m her father, you asshole.”