Glass exploded inward from every window.

  More than half a dozen Inquisitors descended like angels of judgment - black cloaks billowing, blessed blades gleaming with different colors in the firelight.

  The first noble died before he could scream, throat opened by a blade that shimmered gold. The second burned alive, divine blue fire consuming him from within. Blood sprayed across marble. Bones cracked. Men begged.

  The Inquisitors moved like dancers, each kill precise, efficient, beautiful in its horror. No hesitation. No mercy. The air filled with screams that cut short, the wet sound of steel meeting flesh, the acrid stench of burned meat and spilled bowels.

  Within seconds, the chamber became a charnel house.

  This was what the Empire's survival looked like.

  This was the cost the Regent paid every day.

  But thats not what caught my attention.

  I watched shadows move, reality and the Veil blending together. The hallucinations had calmed down, but they were still present, and the screams and bloodshed had only invigorated them.

  The shadows pooled beneath the Regent and the two Inquisitors at his side - black as tar, writhing like living things. They fed off the pools of blood now flowing from the seats of judgement before me. The shadows rose slowly, impossibly, defying gravity as they crawled up their bodies like serpents coiling around prey.

  Tendrils of darkness wound around legs, torsos, arms. Slithering across fabric and flesh with deliberate purpose. The Regent stood perfectly still, expression unchanged, as the shadows reached his face.

  I watched them enter. Into mouths. Noses. Ears. Eyes.

  Black threads disappearing into human vessels like water sinking into parched earth. The Inquisitors didn't flinch. Didn't react. Even Mary's sleeping form wasn't spared - shadows crawling across her unconscious body, seeping into her pores.

  And none of them noticed. The only indication that I was hallucinating it all.

  I quickly closed my eyes, shaking my head as I reopened them. Everything returned to normal.

  Whatever drug I was fed... this is almost as bad as when I ascended.

  The Regent walked through the carnage without flinching, his boots leaving crimson footprints across white marble.

  He reached me and slowly unchained my wrists.

  "Mary did not need to see this," he murmured.

  I pulled my hands free, rubbing the raw skin. My voice came out hoarse and unamused.

  "You used me."

  "Yes."

  "You let me get kidnapped. Drugged. Used as bait."

  "Yes."

  "This was just so you could invoke Inquisition jurisdiction."

  "That is correct."

  The bodies were still warm around us. The screaming had stopped, replaced by the quiet drip of blood from marble balconies.

  I forced myself to look at him. "I'm guessing this was another one of your bullshit tests?"

  "Yes," he said simply.

  Then, he continued, a weirdly new softness in his voice.

  "I am sorry, Damian. Your life was never in danger." He paused. "I do not expect you to trust me. In fact…"

  He smiled, his eyes gleaming with nothing short of entertainment.

  "You shouldn't."

  "Then why-"

  "Because tonight, I want you to witness the cost of my vision. To see with your own eyes what maintaining the Empire demands." His voice went low, almost reverent. "The Empire is built on sacrifice. On blood. But it has granted humanity something precious - survival. Nothing matters more than that."

  My voice steadied. "Do I even have a choice?"

  He extended a hand. Quietly. His eyes showing nothing but sincerity.

  "There is always a choice."

  His eyes grew determined, as though he was genuine in his sincerity.

  "You can join Mary in sleep. Wake tomorrow innocent, untainted, clinging to whatever humanity you have left."

  He stepped closer.

  "Or come with me. Embrace the dark. With it comes purpose. Certainty. And the knowledge that your suffering will shape a future world living in. Every day a step further to a perfect world." His gaze shifted to the Inquisitor holding Mary's unconscious form. "You will abandon your humanity, in order to protect it."

  I understood then. Why he wanted me to accompany Mary to the capital. Why he'd orchestrated this entire bloody baptism.

  I was the shadow that would protect her light. Deceiving her every step of the way, pretending I could be part of that light, knowing I had abandoned it long ago.

  What a lonely existence.

  How long has this bastard walked this path?

  I swallowed hard, staring at him with piercing eyes.

  "Nice speech. But, I have to ask.... What's your definition of a so-called "perfect world"?"

  His expression hardened, before smiling with complete certainty.

  "A world," he said, with no hesitation, "where Mary can live without danger. Where she can be happy. Where she can grow old without fear. One where she can thrive with humanity, as a human. That, Damian, is my definition of a perfect world."

  I sighed, looking up at him in defeat.

  Seems there's no point in arguing with him, than.

  As much as I dislike him, I don't have much of a choice.

  For the first time, I could agree with him. That sounded like a world I could live in too.

  The Empire must survive, or everyone will die.

  And it seemed both our goals would align in the end. I had no reason not to accept.

  But before I could, I looked at the Regent one more time. My eyes complicated.

  "I have to ask one more thing."

  Ever since Mary mentioned how similiar I was to the Regent, I had been meaning to ask him this question.

  My voice turned confrontational, not letting him back away. "Who were you? Before all this... what caused you to become like this?"

  The Regent's face changed. Only for a split second, but I noticed it.

  For a long moment, he said nothing. Just stared at the blood-coated ceiling, his reflection distorted in crimson.

  "I was... a weak man. Probably only as old as you are now." He stared at me, his eyes listless. "A mere puppet for my brother, who now rules over the Empire."

  Despite his listless expression, his voice carried disgust - whether at himself or his brother, I couldn't tell.

  "I had no identity. No purpose. Just existing. And I paid a price for that, as we all have to eventually." He gestured toward Mary. "Then I found her. And I had something worth becoming someone for. I had been an Inquisitor before her, but it's with her that I found why I had become one."

  My eyes drifted to Mary's sleeping figure, then back to the Regent with equally listless eyes.

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  "Sounds tragic."

  "It was. But it doesn't matter anymore."

  He studied me. Really studied me. Like he was looking at his own reflection across time.

  "You understand, don't you? I see it in your eyes. That hollowness." He smiled, as though he found the whole thing amusing. "You're like me - a blank page searching for something to write yourself into existence. A reason to push, to breathe."

  I thought of my diary. Of the single sentence that had defined me until now.

  The Empire must survive, or everyone will die.

  I'd written those words in another life. A child's handwriting, desperate and certain. I'd carried them like scripture ever since, never questioning why, only listening to the man in my dreams repeat it over and over again.

  But standing here, surrounded by bodies, I finally understood.

  I knew the price now. The price I had paid, and the price I would keep paying.

  But it was different now.

  Now, I had something tangible. A real path I could follow. A purpose.

  The Empire must survive.

  Fine. You win. But I'll be doing it on my own terms.

  My Empire will be one where children don't get experimented on in underground labs. Where purpose comes from protection, not domination. Where light can shine without fear of the dark. One Mary could live in peacefully and with purpose.

  If I had to become a monster in the process, it would be inconsequential to me.

  I was well aware I could never become as pragmatic and ruthless as the Regent. I would always hold onto that little bit of humanity I had left.

  But at least now, I wouldn't be fighting blind.

  The Regent only smiled, as though reading my mind.

  "You search for a purpose as I did," the Regent continued, watching me carefully. "Both of us attempting to build an existence around something outside ourselves. Mary became my purpose, and through her, my goal..."

  The Regent's eyes changed. More calculating. More strategic.

  "...became the continuity of the Empire under her rule." He extended his hand again. "Choose, Damian. Return to emptiness and naivety, or build an identity around something worth protecting. It's not noble, but it's purpose."

  I stared at Mary. At her peaceful face, unmarred by the carnage surrounding us.

  She'd wake tomorrow and see me as a victim. An innocent bystander in her uncle's world.

  She'd never know I chose this.

  In her eyes, I'd continue to be a dove.

  I found it Ironic, that the future Empress of Truth, had and would, continue being so deeply deceived.

  "I never had an identity to begin with," I said quietly. "A man without memories is an empty one."

  "Then fill yourself with something." Cassian's hand remained steady, patient. "Even if it's darkness, you can use it to protect the light."

  I looked at his outstretched hand. At the blood staining his cuffs. At the bodies of men who'd also made choices, who'd also tried to protect what they loved in their final moments.

  But that didn't change the fact, that the rot and greed in their hearts had gotten them here in the first place.

  Whoever I was before the Nameless Ones was gone for now. Maybe one day he would come back, maybe not. But for now, that didn't matter.

  Now, I was whoever I needed to be.

  I was a man with a purpose.

  Protect the Empire by protecting Mary. Two birds, one stone.

  I could only smile at the Regent, finding the whole situation a bit funny.

  This guy really is scary. How long has he been planning all of this?

  I took his hand.

  The grip was firm. Final.

  I smiled at the Regent, my eyes gaining some light despite the carnage and darkness around me.

  "You're a bastard, you know that, Regent?"

  The Regent smiled in kind - one that seemed awfully genuine.

  Though even that could have been fake.

  "Please, Damian," his voice now carrying a tone of respect. "Call me Cassian."

  The last of the screaming finally stopped.

  The chamber fell into perfect silence - the kind that only comes after violence has exhausted itself. The Inquisitors moved methodically through the carnage, eight of them still standing, their blessed blades piercing skulls with clinical precision. Making certain. No survivors. No witnesses.

  I watched them work, Cassian letting go of my hand as he pulled me up.

  "I thought all your Inquisitors were busy," I said quietly.

  His expression remained neutral, but I could tell he was trying to hold down a smile. "It seems they all had free time around this hour."

  He turned to the nearest Inquisitor, raising his voice just enough to carry. "Begin phase two."

  At the mention of that, one by one Inquisitors started to disappear from the room, all leaving behind different colored divinities in their wake.

  I blinked. "Phase two?"

  He glanced at me, his expression hardening into something I couldn't quite read. "You'll see once we reach the surface."

  But before moving toward the exit, Cassian's gaze shifted across the chamber - landing on a figure slumped against a pillar.

  Gerald.

  Still alive. Still breathing, though barely. Blood from the other side of the room pooled beneath him, his gray eyes staring blankly at the bodies of his former comrades scattered across the marble.

  Cassian walked toward him, boots echoing in the silence.

  I followed, slower.

  "We have some unfinished business," Cassian said quietly.

  Gerald didn't look up. He simply extended his hand - the pistol still clutched in his trembling fingers. He held it out toward Cassian without a word.

  Cassian took it.

  "Close your eyes," he said gently.

  Gerald obeyed. His expression didn't change - no fear, no regret. Just exhaustion.

  "I have the stain of my friends' blood on my hands," Gerald said, voice soft but clear.

  His jaw tightened, his body shaking slightly.

  "No," Cassian corrected him. "The blood lies on my hands. Not yours. Through the death of a few, you have ensured the continued prosperity of many others."

  Gerald's breath hitched. "My wife... my children... will they be safe?"

  "They will be stripped of titles and given new names," Cassian replied. "They'll live normal lives somewhere far from here. Somewhere near the center of the Empire. Peaceful. Away from all this."

  For the first time since I'd seen him, Gerald smiled. Faint, but real.

  "Thank y-"

  The gunshot cracked through the chamber.

  Gerald's body slumped, lifeless.

  I stared at the corpse, then at Cassian, who lowered the pistol with the same calm efficiency he'd carried throughout the night.

  "It's more humane to die unknowing of when the trigger's about to be pulled," Cassian said quietly, tucking the gun into his coat.

  I exhaled slowly. "You seem to have a conscience."

  "I never take joy in unnecessary torment," he replied. "And I prefer death to be quick and painless, if possible."

  He turned away from Gerald's body, gesturing to the Inquisitor holding Mary's unconscious form. "Take her to her quarters. Ensure she's comfortable, and tell the priests not to let her see the outside."

  The Inquisitor bowed once and vanished through the door, Mary's sleeping figure cradled carefully in her arms.

  Cassian looked to the fire-wielding Inquisitor who'd stopped the bullets earlier - a man, his sword edged in crimson. "With me. We still have work to do."

  He fell into step beside us without a word.

  I followed as we moved toward the exit, boots echoing through the silent chamber. Behind us, the final Inquisitors vanished from the scene, leaving only a pile of corpses in their wake.

  "How long did you know?" I asked quietly. "About the traitors."

  "Months."

  I blinked. "Months?"

  "But Gerald only turned informant after the night at the mansion," Cassian continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "The whole situation escalated beyond even my expectations. I could never have guessed the Heretics would attack again." He glanced at me, the faintest hint of approval in his eyes. "But it was a good training ground for you."

  I scoffed. "It was risky."

  "Risk creates equal reward." His smile sharpened. "You've become a capable machine, Damian. One capable of protecting Mary, now that I can't be there."

  We reached the stairwell, ascending into the courthouse's upper halls. The corridor stretched before us - marble walls, sanctified lanterns flickering weakly in the dark.

  And bodies.

  Soldiers, most likely ones under the Nobles houses, lined the hallway, slumped against walls or sprawled across the floor. Their throats opened clean. Their rifles still holstered. They'd died before they could even draw weapons.

  I stopped, taking in the massacre.

  "You didn't even let them fire a shot, huh?"

  Cassian glanced back at me, then at the bodies, a smile playing at his lips.

  "It would have ruined my entrance."

  I shook my head, falling back into step beside him.

  Through the windows ahead, I caught glimpses of the city beyond.

  Smoke.

  Pillars of it, rising from multiple districts. Orange flames licked at rooftops in the distance, their glow painting the night sky in shades of amber and ash.

  I stopped, staring.

  "Phase two," I murmured.

  Cassian didn't slow his pace. "Every enemy of the city will be snuffed out and extinguished." His voice was clinical. "By dawn, there will be nothing left but rubble and questions no one will dare ask."

  The fire-wielding Inquisitor beside us said nothing, his silence as heavy as the smoke outside.

  My eyebrows furrowed. "You're erasing them completely."

  "The rot," Cassian said simply, "must be cut out entirely. Otherwise, it spreads."

  We walked in silence for another minute, the distant crackle of flames the only sound beyond our footsteps.

  Finally, Cassian paused at the base of another stairwell, his expression growing more somber.

  "Mary's of age now," he said quietly. "She must learn to be independent - especially since she's in the race for the throne." He met my eyes. "But with you at her side, I'm far more confident."

  I smiled lightly - amused. "I'll try not to disappoint."

  "I doubt you ever will."

  We ascended the final flight of stairs, emerging into a grand atrium near the courthouse's main entrance. Tall windows framed the burning city beyond, casting dancing shadows across the polished floor.

  Cassian stopped before the great doors - iron-bound oak, etched with the Empire's crest. The dove and the crow, wings intertwined.

  He turned to face me, his expression shifting into something formal. Almost ceremonial.

  "Congratulations, Damian." His voice carried weight now, authority. "As a member of the High Table of the Inquisition, it is by my authority that you are promoted to - and are to join - the ranks of the Iron Hands."

  I blinked. "High Table? Iron Hands?"

  "I'm a... high ranking member of the Inquisition. And you are being promoted to a trusted operative of the Inquisition," he explained. "Your rights and rewards will be explained to you later."

  Before I could respond, another Inquisitor materialized from the shadows beside us - a blur of motion that ended in perfect stillness. In his hands, a bundle of black fabric and metal.

  Inquisitorial gear.

  Cassian took it, then held it out to me.

  Gloves, mask, hilt of a sword, and cloak.

  I took them, the weight heavier than I expected. The fabric was similar to what I'd worn before, but subtly different. Thicker. Reinforced.

  "Looks the same as always," I muttered, running my fingers over the material.

  "Everything has been upgraded," Cassian said. "Slightly, to reflect your rank. Tougher materials in the clothing. The Aetheris stone in the hilt is more conductive."

  I nodded slowly, unfolding the cloak and draping it over my shoulders. The gloves came next, fitting perfectly. The sword hilt clicked into the mechanism in my sleeve with practiced ease.

  Finally, I held the mask.

  Across from me, Cassian received his own from the Inquisitor - sleek, more ornate than mine, but unmistakably the same design. The fire-wielder and the shadow-bearer stood silent as sentinels on either side.

  "Are you ready?" Cassian asked, holding his mask at his side.

  I stared at the black metal in my hands. At the reflection of my face distorted in its surface.

  This was it. The point of no return.

  I nodded.

  Cassian raised his mask, then paused.

  "Steel yourself, Damian," he said quietly. "For this is the price we pay for humanity. The blood we must shed to protect it." His eyes met mine through the dim light. "Remember that."

  I nodded solemnly, then lifted my mask.

  The hiss of steam. The click of the seal.

  The world dimmed behind black glass.

  Cassian donned his own mask with practiced ease, then turned toward the great doors. With one hand, he pushed them open.

  The city sprawled before us - burning, bleeding, beautiful in its devastation.

  And together, we stepped into the night.