"Captain… what happened to me?"
The gray-haired man on the deck blinked slowly, his eyes unfocused as he stared at the faces around him.
Swain froze.
Then his composure shattered.
Tears streamed down the old enforcer's face as he rushed forward and grabbed the man's shoulders.
"You're fine. You're fine now," Swain said hoarsely. "It's over."
The two Night Church operatives stood rooted in place.
"This… this is a miracle," the younger one whispered.
Even the elderly operative, who had spent decades witnessing strange phenomena, looked shaken.
"So miracles really do exist," he murmured. "They truly do…"
Swain gently passed the weakened man into the care of another enforcer, then turned toward Rowan Mercer.
He straightened his back and bowed his head slightly.
"I apologize for doubting you," Swain said. "Thank you for saving my man."
The former enforcer was now an ordinary human.
But ordinary was infinitely better than a mindless monster.
Some retired Night Church operatives, terrified of losing control in old age, had openly said they would willingly give up their powers if such an option existed.
To Swain, what Rowan had done was not a loss.
It was salvation.
"If there's anything within my means," Swain continued, "name your price."
"Let's call it one hundred and fifty pounds," Rowan said casually. "And… let's be friends. I like having friends."
He tossed the extracted essence toward Swain.
Rowan did not need it.
It belonged to a path he did not walk.
And he already understood everything useful it could teach him.
More importantly, he had no intention of creating unnecessary friction with the church by keeping something they considered sensitive.
Swain caught the shimmering mass and stared at Rowan in disbelief.
"One hundred and fifty?" he repeated.
He had been prepared to pay far more.
But he nodded solemnly.
"Then you have a friend."
Swain understood as well.
This was not about money.
Rowan was extending goodwill.
And Swain accepted it.
"Since we're friends," Rowan added, "how about you treat me to a drink at your bar? I was planning to check out the market anyway."
Swain's lips twitched.
"Of course."
They began walking toward the Black Drake Bar.
As Rowan passed the young Night Church operative with dark hair, he paused.
"This is our second time meeting," Rowan said lightly. "I'm Rowan."
The young man blinked.
"Klein," he replied automatically.
The elderly operative frowned.
"You know him?"
Klein shook his head.
"I don't think so."
Someone Rowan's size would be hard to forget.
Rowan chuckled softly.
"You haven't seen me. But I've seen you."
He continued walking.
"About half a month ago, I passed by a warehouse where your team was fighting. You were there. You left an impression."
Klein's heart skipped.
Left an impression?
Why?
That night, he had mostly stayed in the back.
Taking cautious shots.
Running divinations.
He hadn't done anything spectacular.
Unless…
His mind jumped to the one thing he had never told anyone.
The gray fog.
The strange hidden space only he could access.
He had claimed afterward that he survived because he happened to be just outside the puppet's effective range.
Was this man implying he had seen through the lie?
Cold sweat trickled down Klein's spine.
Rowan glanced at him.
Then smiled faintly.
"Relax," Rowan said. "Your divination is solid. You've nearly finished stabilizing your current power. You're talented."
He paused.
"And we walk the same path."
Klein's breath escaped in a rush.
"Oh… so that's why," he said quickly. "You scared me for a second. I'm still far from your level."
Rowan shrugged.
"By the way, the cultist who escaped that night? I took care of him. Buried in a small grove north of the city."
Rowan said it as if he were mentioning the weather.
The elderly operative's eyes lit up.
"On behalf of the Night Church, thank you," he said immediately. "If you're willing, our captain would like to thank you personally."
Rowan gave a small nod.
Behind them, the elderly operative subtly signaled Klein.
Klein understood.
He found an excuse, turned, and hurried off toward the church headquarters.
Swain, realizing what was happening, gestured for another enforcer to escort the restored man to safety and report to the current Storm Church captain.
The night was far from over.
But something had shifted.