For the Churches, their gods stood at the very peak of existence.
That meant something simple and absolute.
No one within the same divine domain could ever truly stand beside a god.
There were no equals.
No parallel apex figures.
Only subordinates.
As a result, certain positions simply could not exist within a Church's hierarchy. Power was finite, circulating through a closed ecosystem. When too many high-ranking figures emerged along a single path, the lower ranks inevitably thinned.
It was the reason fallen operatives were always recovered.
Not for burial.
For reclamation.
George understood this well.
His own abilities did not belong to the Night path.
Which meant that regardless of how far he eventually advanced, he would never compete for the Church of the Night's most restricted internal resources.
That fact alone made him extremely attractive.
"Mr. George saved one of our enforcers," Reldar said. "That alone makes him someone who should be welcomed by our Church."
His tone was polite.
Gone was the earlier scrutiny.
Krestai responded instantly.
"Mr. George lives within our jurisdiction. Logically, joining us would be more appropriate."
Reldar snorted.
"So living in your district means automatic ownership now?"
Krestai shot back.
"And rescuing one of your people means he belongs to you?"
Reldar stepped forward.
"You're a fifth-rank operative. You really think you're qualified to compete with me?"
Krestai didn't flinch.
"You think your fourth-rank status scares me?"
The temperature in the room dropped.
George raised a hand, smiling.
"Gentlemen, there's no need for this."
Both men paused.
"My parents follow the Church of Steam and Machinery," George said calmly. "If I ever join a Church, that would be the natural choice."
Their expressions shifted.
"Besides," George continued, "I'm still a child. I don't intend to bind myself to any organization yet. I want to spend a few more years living normally with my family. We can talk about formal membership after I'm grown."
That answer was clean.
Non-confrontational.
And impossible to refute.
"But," George added, "if either Church ever needs assistance, you're welcome to contact me. Stopping corrupted individuals. Dealing with cultists. I'm willing to help."
Krestai and Reldar exchanged a look.
Then both nodded.
"That's more than enough," Krestai said.
Pushing further would only drive George into the arms of another faction.
And neither of them was foolish enough to try forcing someone who had just flattened two senior operatives.
"Since we're talking about cooperation," George continued, "I do charge for my services."
Neither man reacted negatively.
George laid it out simply.
"For rescuing corrupted individuals: one hundred fifty pounds for the lowest tier, five hundred for the next, one thousand after that. Three thousand. Five thousand. Ten thousand. Thirty thousand."
"If it's cultists, same pricing."
"Payment can also be replaced with equivalent materials I need for my own advancement."
"One more condition. Right now, I can only handle targets at or below my current level. Anything higher will have to wait until I'm stronger."
Reldar nodded without hesitation.
"Those prices are fair."
Krestai agreed.
For work of that nature, even triple the cost would not guarantee results.
"And one more thing," George said.
"My father is being transferred to work in Backlund soon. I'd appreciate it if the Church could make sure his position is comfortable. Nothing strenuous."
Reldar answered immediately.
"Consider it done."
In this country, a Church's influence outweighed nearly everything else.
Arranging a quiet, well-paid position was trivial.
With all terms settled, the two executives departed that night to report upward.
George returned home.
Instead of resting, he slipped into the gray fog and briefed Klein on everything that had happened, ensuring there were no blind spots.
The following evening, Klein contacted him again.
A new member had joined their hidden circle.
Not from any ordinary city.
But from the fabled Forsaken Lands.
The information gained from this newcomer was significant, and Klein shared all of it with George.
The next two days passed quietly.
George's control over his power continued to improve.
New applications of magic took shape.
His parents finalized the sale of one house.
Once the second was sold, they would leave for Backlund.
Monday.
Three in the afternoon.
George answered Klein's summons.
For the first time, he attended the gathering above the gray fog.
Before pulling anyone in, Klein hesitated.
"…I might need to act a little over the top," he said carefully. "Otherwise, they won't take me seriously."
George chuckled.
"Do what you have to do."
Klein inhaled.
The curtain rose.