The moment his eyes opened, a profound wave of confusion washed over him, and Raphael found himself involuntarily running through the classic philosophical trio.
Who am I. Where am I. What am I doing here.
He was Raphael Alanster. Former Black Gloves operative, former Red Gloves operative, current wanted criminal.
His memory had large chunks missing, whole sections that felt like they'd been deliberately cut out, but the overall shape of things was intact enough.
He knew who he was.
Where he was, though, was a question worth sitting with.
He looked at his right wrist.
"...Novelty handcuffs."
His voice came out rough and dry, carrying an equal measure of disbelief and existential crisis.
His last clear memory was a rainy alley, some kind of post-rebirth side effect hitting him, and then nothing. He'd blacked out. End of memory.
He would honestly have preferred police-issue handcuffs. At least those came with implications he understood.
Then he noticed the bag.
A whole bag. Sitting on the floor within arm's reach.
Novelty items of every description, familiar categories and unfamiliar ones, things with soft protrusions, things that very plausibly ran on batteries, a comprehensive survey of the entire field that genuinely rattled something in Raphael's well-weathered soul.
"What the hell. Did I land in a pervert's place."
He looked to his left. The bathroom door, not far away, light on underneath it, sound of running water. Someone in the shower.
"Okay... okay... looks like nothing's happened yet. Still in the preparation stage."
Raphael exhaled. Even in his last life, at the very end, facing a five-person coordinated assassination from the D-Brotherhood, he hadn't felt quite this specific flavor of alarm.
He closed his eyes and pulled up the System panel.
[Sinner's Hunting System.]
[Hunter: Raphael Alanster.]
[Cardinal Sin: Superbia.]
[Superbia Affinity: 51%.]
[Hunting Ground Access: Demon Lord Candidate.]
[Superbia Authority: Scapegoat — Grade I.]
[Level: 2.]
[Sin: 74 / 80.]
[Sin-Fruit: 0.]
[Mutations: 2.]
[Physical Functions: Lv3. Physical Resistance: Lv1.]
[Arcane Reserve: Lv2. Arcane Resistance: Lv1.]
Two new entries compared to before. The Superbia Affinity percentage, and the Authority.
"Grade I. What does that mean, Roman numerals? So there's a Grade II as well?"
The shower was still running. Nothing was going to happen in the immediate future. He let his awareness sink into the Third Hunting Ground.
The Lv4 Alpha werewolf from the last fight was in the First Hunting Ground, he remembered that.
But the more pressing question was whether Jason Lance was still in the Third after being used as the Scapegoat's sacrifice.
And while he was there, he had a new prisoner to welcome.
Jack Adams, Headhunter, one of the five assassins who had jumped him and still somehow ended up on the wrong end of the exchange.
Raphael doesn't remember what happened after he lost his mind, he only knows that he was ultimately killed by his out-of-control self.
---
The Third Hunting Ground looked exactly as it always had.
Grey, decaying, the row cells serving as walls on both sides, water dripping from the ceiling, the smell of mildew in the air.
His warden's coat settled over his shoulders. Nothing had changed since his last visit. Time didn't seem to leave marks here.
Remembering the chain-dragging sound from his last departure, he didn't linger. He went straight to the only occupied cell.
Jack was sitting with his back against the wall, arms resting on his knees.
His soul was fully intact. Apparently he hadn't yet encountered whatever it was that had reduced Jason to a gibbering, wall-banging wreck.
[Low-level Prisoner: Jack Adams.]
[Level: 4.]
[Information: Headhunter.]
[Cardinal Sin: Ira.]
[Sin: 144.]
[Mutation Skills: 11.]
[Soul Integrity: 100%]
[Ira Affinity: 9%]
[Skills available for domination: 1.]
[Sin available for domination: 12.96.]
Raphael read through it. Even accounting for the death, his Ira affinity had only ticked up by one percent. Still low.
One skill available, twelve point ninety-six sin, not enough to make Execution worthwhile, especially when he had no idea which of the eleven mutation skills was actually valuable.
Executing now would mean committing to a permanent choice without the information to make it.
Besides, Jack could still talk. And as the brother of Jasmine, the man Raphael intended to find, Jack was not supposed to be the first move in any revenge strategy. He was too useful alive, in a manner of speaking.
He pressed Imprison without further deliberation.
[Sin acquired: +12.96.]
[Current Sin: 86.96 / 80.]
[Sin capacity exceeded. Mutation commencing...]
The change began somewhere beneath his awareness. He set it aside and looked at Jack.
"Who sent you to kill me?"
Jack looked around at the grey walls, the dripping ceiling, the general atmosphere of somewhere deeply unpleasant, and gave him the look of a man who is confused but unwilling to show it.
"I still don't know how you managed to trap my soul in a place like this."
He scanned the corridor with mild contempt layered over something more quietly humiliating.
"But fine. You want the truth? You'll never get it. And before you decide that means I'm being loyal, I'll be honest with you, our relationships in that group weren't half as close as you're imagining."
He paused.
"Joining the D-Brotherhood means signing a contract with a Fate Councilor. Secrets bound by that contract cannot be spoken, cannot be recalled, cannot even be actively thought about. That is what the contract does."
Raphael watched his face and noticed something odd.
"I haven't threatened you yet and you're already explaining yourself. You're very cooperative."
Jack didn't react to that.
"It doesn't matter. I only have a soul left. In my memory, I'm already dead. That's simply where things stand."
He looked up at the System interface that was still faintly visible in the air.
"I can read that, by the way. I don't know what language it is but I can understand it."
He meant the Imprison/Execute choice Raphael had just made.
"You chose life imprisonment over execution. Which means you think I have information you want. Let me guess, you're after revenge. Even though the assassination, for reasons I don't fully understand, apparently failed."
Raphael shook his head.
"No. You're wrong about that. The assassination succeeded. I did die."
Jack's head came up. He stared.
"You're telling me you died. And then came back."
He paused.
"No. No, no, no —! that's impossible. Resurrection is beyond even the highest-tier mages. For a Lv2, that can't be real. That's not possible. That's not possible!!"
The reaction was too large for simple surprise. Underneath the shock there was something else, something wounded, something almost grieving.
Jack sat down on the floor slowly and put his face in his hands. He stopped talking.
Clank. Clank.
From the far end of the corridor, the sound of something heavy dragging across stone.
Raphael noted the direction of it, saw that Jack had nothing left to offer for now, and left the Third Hunting Ground.
He came back to the couch just as the bathroom door opened.
Elena came out while drying her hair, looking at Raphael in astonishment.
"You're awake?"