Gathering himself, Michael turned to face David without uttering a word.

"Your Magick experienced a sudden surge and decline. You merged with String, didn't you… Was the harm It sustained so severe? No need to respond. The repercussion occurred because I intercepted It from infiltrating my heart and mind. Apparently, a First Level Metamorphosis can effortlessly thwart It, provided one is cautious. Moreover, It didn't return through the bloodstream; It simply dissipated. This raises a new inquiry..."

"What?" Michael, feeling miserable, massaged his chest. The area where String had been nestled caused a persistent ache, akin to a searing coal embedded in his bone.

"After Mason and Galeward's demise, a Premier Demonic Title manifested from their blood, chasing String. With the Grace Period in effect, will the Premier Demonic Title be triggered when the String claims another victim?"

"If it does, can you prevent it?"

"Nope."

"Then please conclude the tests here," Michael's voice trembled. The latest experiment had unveiled String's limitations. And I've reached mine.

"Exercise caution when employing this aspect of the String. My speculation is that the potency of the target's blood and Magick correlates with the amount of power the Premier Demonic Title can channel into the Material Dimension. Galeward, being a somewhat proficient First Level Metamorphosis, required the combined efforts of a Third Level Metamorphosis and beyond to expel the presence of the Premier Demonic Title. I'll leave you to deduce the details on your own."

"Yeah... I'm quite certain I won't ever be using it again." Reflecting on all that unfolded merely from experimenting with a Deals Maker, Michael had ample reasons to be wary of venturing into dealings with the higher echelons.

David lightly tapped Michael's shoulder, and in a tone less grave than before added. "It's okay. I challenge you, so when others attempt to knock you down, you won't lose your balance. No more tests from this point forward."

"Then, the final topic?" Michael raised his chin.

"The opportunities that will come your way," David nodded.

"Does that include you?" Michael's trust in David waned several degrees upon discovering his calculated maneuver. 'Then again, he is the devil I know...'

"Putting aside the promises of Paths or simple guidance, you shouldn't desire any further association with me. The way you are, following me would be dreadful, and I made that clear from the start. I didn't assist you out of the kindness of my heart. I need your support for a specific task."

"To gain entry to a specific place, as you mentioned."

"Yes, I did mention it before, and I promised to be forthright with you. So here's the truth. That place is exceedingly perilous and intricately challenging to access, let alone return from. Contemplating such a journey should only be entertained by those at the Fourth Metamorphosis level or higher, though there is a drawback… Third Level Metamorphosis and below is not only inadequate but attempting it is, quite frankly, delusional. I won't delve into the reasons why, but anything beyond the Fourth Metamorphosis would stand out like a sore thumb."

"And you can't guide me to the Fourth Metamorphosis, which is why I should consider other offers?"

"Guide you to the Fourth Metamorphosis?" David snorted. "What level do you think I am? The higher the Metamorphosis, the more rigorous the conditions to attain it. Achieving a Fourth Level Metamorphosis might as well be described as reaching a 'god-like' status for someone who has yet to undergo the First Metamorphosis."

'A god-like status?' Michael swallowed.

Contemplating the comparison and envisioning future possibilities rekindled the same ambitions that had set everything in motion. Moreover, he could almost taste the exhilaration of waking up after String's return, infused with some of Galeward's power.

'No,' he chided himself, suppressing the excitement. 'Don't pursue it blindly anymore,' he recognized it as perhaps the most crucial lesson the last couple of days had taught him.

"Attaining the Fourth Metamorphosis surpasses the scope of the forthcoming offers. For where I intend to go, and where I require your assistance, the distinct and invincible attributes of the Fourth Metamorphosis are indispensable. The Demonic Contract presented you with an opportunity, but leveraging it to ride on the shoulders of giants rather than forging your own Path won't make you an exception, even if, by some miracle, you achieve the necessary Metamorphosis."

David let the words sink in for Michael. Despite the potions he had administered for him and Michael not being the primary victim of the backlash, the connection to String had transmitted too much for just a couple of hours to make a significant difference. It would take days for him to truly recover.

"For now, set aside thoughts of the Fourth Metamorphosis and my reliance on you. Achieving the qualifications to stand on your own after the Grace Period would be a remarkable achievement in itself."

"Becoming a Second Level Metamorphosis?"

"In less than two years? Yes. I can offer you advice, perhaps my last meaningful one. Anything beyond that, and I fear my influence might shape you into something I don't desire. Are you ready to listen? Afterward, I suppose it's time for me to depart."

"You won't stay until Sunday?"

"Nothing more will happen to you or your family. As for myself," David mischievously smiled, "a fair amount of discontent was directed at me before I assisted you. I can only imagine how many irritated bounty hunters have redirected their focus to me as a consequence. At the moment, the longer I stay here, bounty hunters are the least of my problems, all thanks to the very same blunder."

Michael remained oblivious to the covert scrutiny of the Adjudicator, whose gaze was primarily fixated on David.

"I'm glad you didn't inquire about ways to assist. We've already discussed it," he chuckled softly.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Michael attempted a half-smile that faded into a straight line on his lips. "What advice do you have regarding the offers?"

"Don't dwell on it too much. A Grace Period can prove extremely valuable, and the essence of all the offers will be to capitalize on it. The key question is what you'll gain in return. Naturally, the means to become stronger, to achieve Metamorphosis more rapidly. But do so thoughtfully, not impulsively. And with no strings attached – no pun intended – once the Grace Period concludes."

"And who will provide me with that?"

"The first to arrive. The MMB. They will initially introduce themselves as the Material Magick Bureau."

...

10:15, Saturday.

The 98th Precinct. Two individuals stood in the observation room adjacent to the interrogation room, peering through the two-way mirror.

"He woke up around six and has been like that ever since. We've tried talking to him, offering him something to drink. He doesn't speak or show interest in drinking. He complies when we ask him to, sits where we instruct, but otherwise, he's unresponsive."

Captain Galiger stood with her arms crossed, a forlorn expression marring the little makeup she wore. Beside her, a short-haired blonde woman donned a dark blue suit.

Captain Galiger's lips tightened at the aloof demeanor of the other woman. She harbored a disdain for those of her kind – individuals who emerged when situations turned complicated, brandishing an unfamiliar shiny badge from an obscure governmental department marked with the initials HOSC. Accompanied by letters from both the district judge and her commissioner, they went to great lengths to ensure absolute cooperation. What exacerbated Captain Galiger's displeasure even more was the woman's age, appearing half her own, yet displaying no emotional sensitivity to the tragedy that befell the members of her 98th Precinct.

"Agent Morsov-"

"Turn off the cameras and ensure no one is in the viewing room. I want to talk to him privately," Agent Morsov ordered.

"Agent Morsov, may I remind you that Detective Ilmar has not been charged with anything. I granted access to those two pieces of paper, allowing you free rein in my precinct, including access to our system and files for your colleagues. I will not tolerate harassment of any of my people, especially when they are in a state of shock and grieving. This is especially true when the present evidence paints them as victims."

"Captain Galiger," Agent Morsov turned her head, and the two women's gazes intersected. After a moment, Agent Morsov averted her eyes, not in defeat but in acceptance. "I've encountered my fair share of those to blame and innocent bystanders. I am well-equipped to handle both. At this moment, I have no reason to believe your man, Ilmar Lois, falls into the former category. Therefore, I'll treat him accordingly."

Agent Morsov exited the room, leaving Captain Galiger a step behind as she proceeded alone to the investigation room.

…

In the investigation room, Agent Morsov settled into a chair across the table from Detective Ilmar. Placing her palms flat on the table, she waited for the blinking red lights on the cameras to extinguish. With a final blink, the room was free of surveillance, and she took a deep breath through her nose.

"Hello, Ilmar Lois. I'm Morsov Rose, an agent of HOSC – Homeland Office of Special Cases." She maintained a steady gaze, her voice unwavering. "Mr. Ilmar, I'm aware of your situation. I can see in your eyes that you're conscious of my presence and attentive to what I say. With introductions behind us, please accept my condolences."

Agent Morsov tilted her head, her voice maintaining a consistent tone. "Mr. Ilmar, I've reviewed your case report. From my perspective, you were forcibly entangled in a situation beyond your control, and it all began with the murder case of Mason Nordoy and Neil Julian Lorik. Does what I'm saying align with your understanding of the events?"

Agent Morsov scrutinized Detective Ilmar carefully, ensuring she didn't overlook any nuances in his continued silence.

"Mr. Ilmar, what are your thoughts on a man named 'Michael Mir?'" Another moment of attentive observation. "I'm considering meeting him after our conversation. Is Mr. Mir a threat? Are the people around him dangerous? Or, like you, has he been pulled into something that shouldn't involve him?"

Silence lingered in the room.

Agent Morsov slowly reached into an inner pocket of her suit jacket. Retrieving a brown envelope, she opened it and laid out its contents on the table. Six pictures were arranged in two rows on the half of the table belonging to Detective Ilmar.

Four of the pictures depicted wounds. The first showcased two puncture wounds on a wrist. The second revealed a torso with satanic carvings. The third displayed the body of a man, his head out of frame and his limbs unnaturally stretched. The fourth presented a slender back with the spine pulled out.

The other two pictures were less graphic. The first was captured at night – a red blur with glowing eyes in an alleyway. The second, although clearer, still presented a challenge to discern perfectly – the back of a gray, hunchbacked humanoid figure midstride.

"Mr. Ilmar, what are your thoughts on these pictures?"

Detective Ilmar remained silent. Agent Morsov noticed a subtle tremor in his arms and pushed further, sliding the first of the graphic pictures forward.

"As a fellow seeker of truth, a veteran in your field, someone repeatedly exposed to the darker aspects of human nature, I'm confident you can construct a preliminary profile for some of these images. For the pictures you find challenging, I'll assist by attributing a common label…" Agent Morsov cautiously uttered the next word, her guard up. "Paranormal."

Another tremor, and her gaze, fixed on Detective Ilmar, became more intense. He raised his hands, one of which was bandaged, to the pictures, prompting her to step back.

"What's your most imaginative interpretation?"

From a slow start to rapid heaving, Detective Ilmar bent over the pictures, rearranging them on the table. It was a fleeting moment when something seemed amiss, vanishing before he could pinpoint it.

He looked, not to answer Agent Morsov. He may have heard her, but he didn't truly listen. His focus was on finding the elusive detail, and the more he rearranged the pictures, the closer his instincts signaled he was getting to it.

"No"

A feeble whisper escaped his lips. In stark contrast, his physical movements grew more frenetic.

"No."

Fear was evident in his voice, realizing that the elusive revelation continued to elude him.

"Mr. Ilmar, what do you see? Is the perpetrator a man? A woman? Don't be afraid to say it. Remember, anything is permitted in our realm of the 'Paranormal'."

Detective Ilmar abruptly halted. His gaze snapped up at Agent Morsov. Tears streamed down his cheeks, his expression contorted with the urgency of a ticking clock.

"Monster!" he exclaimed, jumping.

Agent Morsov's satisfaction swiftly shifted to alert combat readiness.

"Monsters! Monsters!" Detective Ilmar shouted at her, reaching for the collar of her suit. Despite his size advantage, perhaps exacerbated by his mental state, she managed to grab his left arm, twisted it, and forcefully pinned his face to the table, sending the pictures scattering to the floor.

Simultaneously, as Detective Ilmar's will to fight faded, the door to the investigation room swung open. Captain Galiger and Sergeant Benev burst in together just as Agent Morsov released Detective Ilmar and turned to collect the scattered pictures.

"Lois!" Captain Galiger hurried in.

Sergeant Benev acted swiftly, supporting Detective Ilmar and guiding him back to the chair. "Lois, look at me. Lois, please, you need to speak. Lois..."

"Outside, now!" Captain Galiger ordered Agent Morsov, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the viewing room. This move was aimed at minimizing the scene and allowing them to check on Detective Ilmar, while Sergeant Benev attended to him.

"Tell me now why I shouldn't escalate this to your superior to receive a satisfactory explanation for your misconduct toward a member of my precinct-"

"Your man is innocent," Agent Morsov interjected. "You'll soon receive orders to transfer this case to my office, including the matter of the other deceased officers connected to his case."

"You think-"

"Regarding Mr. Ilmar, a period of mourning won't be sufficient for his recovery. Professional help is necessary. I'll arrange transportation, expected within the hour. Please prepare Mr. Ilmar and his belongings."

Having completed her task, Agent Morsov didn't linger to entertain Captain Galiger any longer and departed as detachedly as she arrived.