The difference between the two Churches was never clearer than in how they handled supernatural incidents.
If an unknown event erupted in some rural village and the Night Watchers took charge, they would move quietly. Investigate. Isolate the source. Resolve the matter with minimal disruption. Their ideal outcome was simple: ordinary people never even realized something unnatural had happened. At worst, if forced to choose, they would prioritize civilian lives over capturing the culprit.
The Storm Church's Punishers approached things differently.
They struck fast and hard.
If something looked dangerous, it was destroyed. If uncertainty remained, it was eliminated. Collateral damage was considered unfortunate, but acceptable if it ensured the threat was wiped out completely. Where the Night Watchers guarded, the Punishers eradicated.
Neither philosophy was entirely wrong.
From Rowan's perspective, if you were an ordinary civilian, you prayed the Night Watchers arrived first. If you were looking at the long-term stability of an entire region, the Punishers' ruthlessness had its advantages.
As for Rowan himself?
As an unaffiliated supernatural, he much preferred the Night Church's approach.
The High Executor from the Church of the Night regarded him with measured composure. The Storm Church's High Executor, on the other hand, radiated authority and suspicion. If Rowan hadn't saved one of their sailors earlier, this meeting might have begun with shackles instead of conversation.
Rowan didn't waste time.
"So," he said lightly, "what exactly are we doing tonight?"
Crestet Sesima, High Executor of the Church of the Night, offered a calm smile.
"Please don't misunderstand. This is simply a routine examination. Your situation is… unusual."
Radall Valentine, High Executor of the Storm Church, added in a firm tone, "Under normal circumstances, someone in your position would be detained first and questioned later. Consider this courtesy."
One soft.
One sharp.
Rowan didn't bother reacting to the contrast.
"That's fine," he replied. "Go ahead."
Crestet removed a silver case from his back and opened it carefully.
Inside lay a bone-white sword nearly a meter long.
The moment it emerged, the air shifted. The surrounding light seemed to dim, drawn toward the blade as if gravity itself had changed.
"The Sword of the Goddess…" Radall murmured, unable to hide his respect.
Though Radall stood at a higher rank and possessed true semi-divine power, Crestet's blade was a holy relic. In practical terms, it allowed him to channel authority far beyond his natural limits. In battle, the outcome between them would not be easily predicted.
Radall's eyes flickered with lightning as he examined Rowan directly, divine perception washing over the child.
Moments passed.
He exhaled.
"Nothing foreign," he said slowly. "His aura is consistent. He's exactly what he claims to be."
He turned toward Crestet.
Crestet raised the Sword of the Goddess.
A faint, silent pressure descended.
The examination deepened.
If Rowan carried the imprint of an evil god, a remnant angelic soul, or some ancient projection of power, this would expose it.
Even a true god descending in disguise would not evade such scrutiny.
Crestet lowered the blade.
He shook his head.
"Confirmed," he said quietly. "No external corruption. No possession. No hidden divinity. He is a Sequence Seven Magician."
Radall stared at Rowan.
A half-year-old infant.
Sequence Seven.
Completely clean.
It made no sense.
If Rowan had been a teenager, they might have labeled him a prodigy. History had seen such talents before.
But six months old?
Absurd.
Nearby, Swain—now retired but still loyal to the Storm Church—shifted uneasily.
"Is there a problem, Executor?" he asked.
Radall paused.
Then nodded once.
"There is no issue. Rowan Barton is not corrupted."
The tension in the Night Watchers' ranks eased.
Klein released a quiet breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
If Rowan had been condemned here, there would have been nothing he could do.
At the same time, Klein felt a flicker of unease.
If the examination had been directed at him instead…
He wasn't certain what the Sword of the Goddess would have revealed.