Asher felt like he was listening to a fairy tale. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of it all.

"Drinking a potion gives you superpowers? All I have to do is kill some monsters, brew a potion, and drink it? What nonsense," he muttered.

Henry gestured toward the fireplace, the flames slowly returning to a steady glow.

"The first step of descent is the same for all paths: to awaken your spirit sense and condense your essence. You've just accomplished that," Henry explained, his tone calm but firm. "Now you must decide which path to follow. Of course, you can always choose not to walk any of them—perhaps that's the wisest choice. Don’t forget what happened to Torell."

"In for a penny, in for a pound…" Asher said, determination settling in. "There’s no way I’m sitting on the sidelines and ending up at another ball."

Henry remained silent, allowing Asher time to consider his decision. After all, it would affect the rest of his life.

"As you think it over, let me explain the true nature of Bolard Consultancy," Henry said, breaking the silence. "This company is merely a front for a collective of descenders. We are known as the Emissaries of the Night, servants of the Night Goddess. We act as her hands and feet in the mortal realm. The real purpose of this firm is to protect her children—in other words, to safeguard the interests of her followers."

"I see." Asher's eyes widened slightly as the pieces began to fall into place. "That explains a lot. I always wondered how 'Detective' Bolard managed to keep this place running. It’s kind of poetic, really—me, someone who grew up in an orphanage funded by the grace of the Night Goddess, ending up employed here."

Henry shifted in his chair, his face tightening just a bit.

"You foolish boy," he said with a slight smirk. "It’s no coincidence you were hired here. Bolard is the one who saved you from Torell, the clown. He saw potential in you and made a deliberate effort to bring you in."

Asher wasn’t surprised. In fact, he had suspected something like this. Still, his memories were hazy. After his rescue, he had drowned himself in alcohol to the point where much of that night was a blur. He hadn’t intended to remember, not being particularly fond of hard liquor to begin with.

"I see," Asher said, nodding. "Well, I’m glad he did. Honestly, even knowing what I know now, I have no complaints. You won’t find me walking out the door. I’m here because I want to be. So tell me, Henry—what paths can the Church of the Night Goddess offer me?"

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"That depends on your merits, kid," Henry replied, crossing his arms. "The more you serve the Mother, the more privileges you earn. As it stands, you're not qualified to request any of the paths yet. Even learning what paths are available is beyond you right now. Go talk to Dunn. Tell him you're ready to begin your descent."

Asher nodded, a flicker of sentimentality crossing his face.

"Old man, I apologize for what happened to your hand. If there’s anything I can do, don’t hesitate to ask. Thank you for your training and guidance."

Henry waved him off, tired but satisfied.

"Go on, kid. If you think you’re done training, you’re mistaken. Whether or not you choose to descend, you still need to master the basics."

Asher walked down the hallway, his footsteps echoing slightly on the wooden floor. He stopped in front of a door, knocking twice before turning the knob.

"Hello, Mr. Bolard. Henry sent me. I'm ready to descend. How do I earn enough merits?"

Bolard's eyes lit up with approval.

"Already? It’s only been a week since you joined us, yet you’ve already activated your spirit vision. Impressive."

He stood up from his desk, circling around to stand in front of Asher.

"Show me. Activate it and look at me—tell me what color you see."

Asher focused, channeling his will through the ring on his finger. When he opened his eyes, the world shifted. Swirling clouds of ethereal dust and glowing motes filled his vision, clumps of spiritual essence gathering like wet sand from the ambient energy radiating from all life. He glanced at Bolard.

"Black," Asher said confidently. "I see black."

Bolard smiled in approval. "Impressive. I think you’re the fastest in the history of this firm. The only ones who came close were Jack and Clarissa. Maybe you can befriend them—they're about your age."

Bolard sat back down, his expression becoming more serious. "Asher, you can work at the firm for a few months to earn enough merits for your potion. Alternatively, we happen to have one potion available. If you want, I can give it to you now, but you'll still need to pay for it with future service. It’s the Jester potion. It’s not suited for combat, though. If you want to know more, I can provide you with the firm's dossier on the subject."

He paused for a moment. "Oh, and tomorrow, you and Henry will be investigating Saint Joan Cathedral. You know it well—you grew up in their orphanage, didn’t you? That familiarity will help you. Knowing the lay of the land is essential for survival."

Bolard leaned forward, his gaze sharp.

"The church has all but confirmed the culprit. You'll almost certainly face a vampire—maybe several. They're probably newborns, bloodfiends. They're a step 9, so they aren't impossible for a mundane human to kill. But don’t get cocky. Descenders bleed like anyone else. So do those bloodfiends. They're faster and stronger than the average adult, especially after they've fed. Approach with that in mind. And don’t bother with garlic or wooden stakes—that’s all bollocks. Killing them is just like killing any human. Make sure to bring enough bullets—and I recommend a mask. Their lairs often reek of rotting corpses. Their victims still decay even after being drained. The stench can be unbearable, and if it distracts you, it could cost your life."

Asher frowned slightly.

"The Jester path... Is that the path Torell walked?"

Bolard poured himself a glass of whiskey, sipping it before responding.

"That’s right. He was a step 8 Clown of the Jester path."

"Mr. Bolard, I’d like to see the dossier, please," Asher requested.