Merrywick leaned back onto his hospital bed, running his gaze up and down on the two Inquisitors from the Church of Sunbreaker.
It had been three hours since he had revealed to the law enforcers that a thirteenth deity existed, subverting their very attitude toward him.
As the first human to be contacted by the deity in recorded history, the treatment was bound to be different, but not necessarily positive.
All electric appliances in the cabin had been shut off after their departure. A bright table chandelier was placed by the side of his bed, illuminating the room.
He didn't have to peek outside the cabin through the tiny glass window to know that since their departure, professionals had been employed to observe his movements, analyze every minute action performed by him to verify the truth of the matter.
The two grizzled inquisitors in front of him, a man and a woman, were the first to enter his cabin after the inspection squad had practically rushed out. Their countenance could hardly be termed as friendly.
"Mr. Merrywick, the records we've been able to access from the Deity Tower state that your Divine Blessing was a Guide Soul directly sent from Lord Sunbreaker's domain. In your briefing to the enforcers, you've claimed that the soul guide committed suicide of some sort by helping you learn how to cast a Tier-1 spell."
"Yes, and I understand that you'd want to test the truthfulness of the claim. How would you like me to cooperate?" Merrywick nodded in affirmation.
"What exactly was the spell and how exactly did you learn it?" the inquisitor raised a question Merrywick had been waiting for.
"The spell itself is targeted towards blood and muscles in a specific part of the body. It also affects the inhibitors in the brain adversely. The incantation is 'Forti-Mus-Haima'. I'm sure you're familiar with it. I mastered the spell through an Ancestral Hallucination, which was triggered by the destruction of my Guide Soul."
The two inquisitors had a silent conversation after he had laid his secret bare.
Merrywick wasn't too bothered. This spell was known to anybody who had attended the government-funded training programs for students who hadn't yet managed to awaken their Progression pathway under a deity's blessing. In fact, some careful research in internet forums would be enough to collect hundreds of Tier-1 spells. Of course, whether these spells were safe to cast or not was a question the collector would have to deliberate over by himself.
As for Ancestral Hallucinations, it was a common method of discovering or mastering spells. Most mages above Rank-1 had experienced one.
"Let's move on to the testing. It's a simple procedure," said the male inquisitor finally after a long stretch of silence. "Which class of magic are you capable of performing right now?"
"Natural class. I've already mentioned this before, and even proven it prior to that. I have studied few spells, and attempted to master only one," Merrywick answered with a knowing smile.
Were they trying to get him to contradict himself? That was a weak attempt, if so. He had rehearsed for this situation repeatedly, for years.
"Which grade has your mastery reached over the 'Forti-Mus-Haima' spell? One ancestral hallucination is hardly enough to push your mastery of a spell all the way up to acolyte grade, especially considering you've never cast a spell before."
Merrywick shook his head, appearing slightly disappointed. "My mastery of that spell hasn't reached Acolyte grade. I only managed to make the spell work on my lower body, while the actual aim was to strengthen my entire physique. Judging in the light of the data provided to us when we were taught the spell, I only activated around 30% of the spell's full potential."
The other inquisitor, a pale-faced woman, reached into her overcoat and pulled out a small, black beetle.
"Do you recognize this creature?"
Her voice almost sounded like an elderly man's croaking. Merrywick blinked in confusion for a moment before leaning forward to get a better look at the beetle.
"Looks like a River Scarab. The Mutation grade should be...Primitive."
This was another double-layered test. Accuracy of memory was one of the major determining factors in testing the abnormality of a human who has come into contact with divine elements. The more negative the influence, the worse the accuracy in recollection of one's past.
Identifying Primitive-grade Mutant creatures was a skill learned in middle school. Even ordinary 18-year-olds would need but a moment to recall all the identifying features of the beetle.
"Then you should be able to recall what the details of this scarab's mutation are, right?" the male inquisitor said casually.
Merrywick scratched himself around the neck, appearing thoughtful for a moment. It was his best attempt to give off the impression of somebody who was going through distant reels of memories.
"River Scarabs... Come out of eggs inside the decomposing body of their mother. They have a natural affinity toward moving mana. After four stages of molting, they undergo the Primitive mutation cycle, which is the best time to bind them to a mage. Upon binding, it becomes solely dependent on feeding on mana and water to survive. In the wild, they are most commonly found near other mutant creatures, especially the ones that have a large physique-"
"That'll do. Now please, cast the same spell on it which you cast on yourself."
He sent both of them a thoughtful look and nodded after a moment of contemplation.
Tier-1 spells, the weakest form of magic, didn't have a complex casting method.
The first step was to mentally connect to some of the mana in the air.
The second step was to channel them in a specific pathway for each unique spell.
The third step was the incantation to command a change through the movement of the mana.
"Forti-Mus-Haima!"
And the final step was to channel the mana through the target.
The black scarab in the woman's hand trembled for a moment as a sudden dim crimson flash of light shot inside its body from Merrywick's direction.
Unlike Merrywick's legs, the scarab didn't swell up or get larger. Instead, it exploded into a pile of gooey grey fluids, bits and pieces of its body parts shooting out of the woman's palm like arrows.
"...Huh," was the male inquisitor's reaction. The creases in his forehead deepened.
"Both the spell and the mana used are native to our domain, but the result..." the woman mumbled in a low voice, leaving the sentence incomplete.
Merrywick knew what the unspoken part would be. He had cast the spell knowing fully the consequences.
This scarab was a beast pet contracted to the woman. It had been nurtured by the mana of her spells, spiritual influences belonging to Lord Sunbreaker's domain. The sudden, blunt spiritual invasion by a foreign domain's magic would naturally destroy its fragile body. In fact, this was the scarab's most common use, to test the nature of magical spells from mana residue. They were a great assistance in tracking rogue mages and investigating crimes committed by them.
He had used that poor scarab to establish the legitimacy of the domain of a foreign, new deity connected to his magic.
"Did you record the data?" the woman asked while wiping her hand off with a towel meant for the patient's use.
The other inquisitor held up a four-sided, inverted pyramid-shaped prism inside which a pitch-black flame was flickering weakly.
Merrywick hadn't noticed this instrument before, nor did he know its functions. But he knew what the color of the flame indicated. Black was the color associated with divine magical trace, the source of all magic, the symbol of a deity's domain.
He watched curiously as they steered the flame inside the prism with their mental commands.
From the tip of the inverted pyramid, the flame gradually rose upward. But there was no change in it, whether in size or color. The moment it reached the flat, square-shaped ceiling, fully intact, both Inquisitors let out a groan simultaneously.
"What exactly did that prove, if I may ask?" Merrywick said in an engrossed tone.
"That there is only one spiritual imprint inside you. We can't find any trace of the Guiding Soul from Lord Sunbreaker's domain."
"Perhaps the Deity in my dreams couldn't tolerate another deity's influence on me. It would explain why my Soul Guide was so quickly destroyed once I woke up," Merrywick suggested.
Both inquisitors, being devotees of Lord Sunbreaker, glared at him.
"Are there more tests you want to conduct?" he asked them, ignoring the harsh stares.
"...Yes, we'd like to re-examine your progression panel. Summon it. Now," the woman ordered.
Merrywick put his hands up in the air in a gesture of surrender.
"Do you have the authority to give that order?"
Both inquisitors' countenance became overcast. Merrywick began to consider whether he had a choice or not when the door of his cabin opened, and a man wearing a luxurious robe walked in.
Merrywick's eyes lit up in recognition, and then grew dark upon considering the implication.
"Good evening, Bishop Alcius," the male inquisitor jumped to his feet, followed by the woman, who merely nodded at the middle-aged man.
"Mr. Merrywick, I think I have that authority you're looking for. Now, would you please mind summoning your progression panel? We need to confirm that no dangerous changes have happened to your progression pathway. A new deity... I'm sure you understand why we're concerned. If you plan on establishing a new Deity Tower yourself, you must learn when to compromise. The entirety of Bastion district is under our supervision. Please do not make a mistake you'll regret in the future."
Merrywick sighed and relented to the coercion. A moment later, a red, semi-transparent panel appeared on top of his head, visible to all.