Mother Superior led MK to the underground level of the convent with solemn determination. "This realm is off-limits to Daughters. After your Baptism Ceremony, you are strictly forbidden from entering here or discussing it with your prospective Sisters."
MK followed, mirroring Sister Nina's steps. Her mind, however, was consumed by a zombie-like fixation on her hunger, oblivious to the fact that her feet were still bare – a detail Aunt Bee had pointed out. She wore the same nightgown, its once-purple hue now marred by streaks of red and black.
Reaching a towering wooden door, Mother Superior produced a key chain adorned with four weathered metallic keys dangling from her waist. With a resounding series of "CLUNKS" from the locking mechanism, the door swung open.
As Mother Superior pushed the door ajar, pained moans permeated the air. The underground chamber, the convent's cellar, sprawled in dim illumination. Two cages contained captives; on one side, men, and on the other, women. Chained to the bars, they were isolated, unable to reach one another.
The women's side held fewer captives, a stark contrast to the men's section. In total, there were four teenage girls, each seated with an empty or semi-empty bowl before them.
On the men's side, the scene was grimmer and more crowded. Eighteen individuals, aged between twenty and fifty, were confined within. The older ones, with fewer limbs, were chained at the chest. Remnants of their meals, a mound of light brown mush, littered the ground – devoid of bowls.
Mother Superior entered the cellar, dismissing the women's side. Using a different key, she unlocked the men's cage. Despite her outward appearance of being in her seventies, none of the mutilated men dared to lift their gaze or shift from their crouched positions.
"Him," Mother Superior smiled. "Come," she commanded MK, who displayed no reaction to the distressing scene in the cellar.
Mother Superior identified a man among the younger captives with all four limbs intact. "Fortunate that there's still one who is fresh," she remarked as she seized his arms and hoisted him to his feet. "Come, dear. Look at him."
MK glanced at the man, but her still thoughts were consumed solely by her hunger, oblivious to the grim tableau before her.
"Do you savor the aroma? Does he appear more delectable than Aunt Bee's offerings? Feel free to express yourself. I assured you this secret would be confined between us," Mother Superior bantered, as if they were discussing petals in a fragrant garden rather than the dismembered reality of human beings.
The fragrance Mother Superior presented awakened MK's salivary instincts. She seized the man's arm, causing him to flinch, but her grasp, firm as iron, overpowered his weakened state.
"Go ahead. Give in to the desire to bite," Mother Superior encouraged.
The moment MK's lips made contact with flesh, she lost control, voraciously sinking her teeth into the man's forearm. Blood sprayed into her mouth, and the taste of meat and bone between her teeth transported her to a state of euphoria.
"Hahaha," Mother Superior chuckled tenderly. "Is the living flesh that satisfying? Consume, little stray, consume! Eat!"
While Mother Superior found amusement, the man let out a scream – not from pain, as their food was laced with substances that dulled the senses and induced hallucinations. His scream stemmed from the fear he suppressed, facing the purple demoness that had lifted him and the surreal situation of his arm being devoured by a pale monster.
In less than a minute, MK tore the forearm from the man's body, leaving him sprawled on the ground in a stupor as she nibbled on his fingers.
Mother Superior paid no heed to the blood streaming from the man's arm. She lifted MK from her full cheeks mid-chew.
"Good girl," she said, turning MK's head. "Would you like to finish the rest before it spoils?"
MK remained oblivious to Mother Superior's actions, focused only on the source that gradually eased her hunger. She consumed the last finger and leaned in to bite the man's stomach.
Suddenly, she froze. Her eyes widened, and a searing pain tore through her from the inside. She recoiled, releasing a continuous jet of red and black sludge.
The sludge rose, reaching the cellar's ceiling and showering the men around, even splattering Mother Superior.
The elderly woman's once caring and tender gaze morphed into one of cruelty and apathy.
"Neither the dead nor the living can sustain you. A Thing of your kind cannot thrive on plants either. I initially believed your purpose was to join the convent as a new Daughter for Her Holiness. Since that possibility is no longer viable, and I wasn't guided to you merely to make another addition there," she remarked, casting a side-glance at the women's cage, "I'll have to find another purpose for you. It's a shame, but it would also be interesting to see how long you'll survive…"
…
Saturday, 13:00.
David departed.
'Don't be rash.' Peering through the hole in the wall outside his parents' bedroom, Michael reflected on the last piece of advice he struggled to extract from the Middle Eastern short man and his savior.
'Don't be rash,' he repeated, as though the words held no mystical significance. They were self-explanatory, almost simplistic. Nevertheless, judging by David's expression after uttering them, it seemed he genuinely debated internally whether he occasionally wanted Michael to taste the consequences of acting impulsively.
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'Does he believe I lack the time to grapple with the repercussions of impulsiveness and rapidly evolve into the Second Metamorphosis?' This was Michael's interpretation to rationalize David's hesitancy, especially when the man desired him to become extraordinary. It was a goal Michael associated with the necessity of taking risks, akin to what main characters often do in stories. If being rash was synonymous with taking risks, he would need to question when to heed these parting words.
Squinting until he felt the strain in his eyes, Michael couldn't catch a glimpse of the otherworldly realm, designated as the "Terminal Dimension" or "The Gray," through which David departed.
'It could also mean not rushing to avoid danger, just as much as facing it. In this case, what he's suggesting is that I should think before I act, weighing the pros and cons of impulsive behavior.'
Rubbing his eyes, he sensed he had considered enough facets of the advice and shouldn't dwell on it further. David wanted him to be independent from external influences. Furthermore, the correct interpretation hinged on the situation, and a shift in his circumstances was imminent with a knock on the door.
"I'll answer it," Michael informed his mother and brother.
His father had rushed to the hospital with Chris. Before departing, unaware that Michael could hear every whispered conversation in the house if he concentrated, regardless of his location, Peter collaborated with Dan to remain and look after Mary. Exhausted from the grueling night and adamant about not leaving her second son's side after a near-loss, Mary was determined to endure the midnight madness once again.
Michael felt a pang of hurt; not only had Dan become the favored confidant, but his father's trust in him had dwindled from what it was when he was just a "neet" in the making.
"Should we retreat to the bedroom?" Mary inquired.
"You can stay," Michael deliberated before responding. In the end, he chose to place his trust in the safety that David had assured.
Surveying the apartment, it was a chaotic mess of blood, dust, and rubble. His mother, bless her soul, could only do so much in a short time, and Dan, declaring it was Michael's responsibility to clean up, had barely lifted a finger.
Michael had every intention of handling the mess himself, rather than leaving it for others to deal with. The only reason he postponed it was due to David's forewarning about the impending visitor.
As he opened the door, a sleekly dressed man, carrying a silver briefcase, presented a white badge with azure letters between his thumb and forefinger.
"Material Magick Bureau, Rank 1 Recruiter, Nigarm Peiss."
'They've arrived,' Michael thought.
Agent Peiss didn't overlook Michael's composed reaction. "Is David present? No. You're ready, and he knows the drill. Well, may I come in? You do know why I'm here."
Michael stepped aside, allowing Agent Peiss to enter. "The Material Magick Bureau wants to recruit me."
Agent Peiss smiled. "I'm glad you're interested, Mr. Mir. Is that all?"
'Yeah... David didn't share everything!' Michael kept the comment to himself. "Just start from the beginning."
He didn't want to sound completely clueless or ask a series of questions like a child.
"Alright. It's procedure anyway," Agent Peiss nodded. Unfazed by the condition of the apartment, he seemed to know exactly where to find a clean spot to sit and discuss. "Ma'am," he greeted Mary as he strolled through the apartment as though it were his own.
"Did David brief you here?" Dragging a chair from the kitchen, he arrived at Michael's room. "Don't get confused. There is residual Magick in the air. So, he wasn't all too well after fighting Sivan…" He murmured the last part, then swiftly turned to Michael.
Seated across from each other, Agent Peiss with one leg atop the other and Michael with both feet on the ground, fingers crossed, they prepared for the discussion.
"Before we delve into recruitment talks," Agent Peiss unlocked his briefcase. Inside was a small deck of papers. "Read this," he handed Michael a document.
'Not a recruitment pamphlet… aid?'
Essentially, it was a relief form.
'The Bureau will treat the physically and mentally wounded and fix all damaged property, so long as the victims willingly sign an agreement for their memories of the last forty-eight hours to be erased.' Michael hadn't expected the Bureau to act as a form of social welfare in cases involving Magick.
For whatever it was worth, the association created a sense of normalcy, which, in turn, gave him a better impression of the Material Magick Bureau.
His eyes fixated on a clause in a font too small to read; it should appear to a regular person as a tiny, dotted line.
'Special cases are exempt from mind manipulation?' Michael lowered the form. "It's not for me to sign, right? And the people related are under the umbrella of my Grace Period, so you can't force them to sign if they don't want to."
"When people with no connection to Magick stumble upon it against their will, we give them the choice of signing, regardless of their background or connections. By refusing to sign, we'll only contain their spread of Magick dealing to prevent others from being implicated. The reasoning is that in our stages of cleanup, we purge the area of residual Magick that can attract all types of nuisances. As you said, you and your family can live comfortably during the Grace Period. Afterwards is when they should consider signing or not, unless forgetting is something they long for."
"Can I give it to my mom and brother to read now, while you convince me to join the Material Magick Bureau?"
"Sure."
Michael wasn't enthusiastic about leaving Agent Peiss alone in his room. 'They're not in a welcoming spirit,' he sighed inwardly, relenting.
"Who is this man, Michael?" Mary asked the moment he entered the living room.
"Someone from the government. A sort of secret office that deals with…"
The word "Magick" stuck on his tongue.
"This," he gestured with his head at the mess in the apartment.
"What's this?" Dan inquired, observing the document.
"It's assistance with everything. You can choose to sign it or not. Either way, they'll extend their help," Michael clarified.
Although not explicitly stated by Agent Peiss, the unspoken truth lingered – if the Material Magick Bureau sought to enlist him, assistance for his family was implicit.
Dan accepted the form, positioning it for both himself and Mary to see. Meanwhile, Michael returned to his room and resumed his seat before Agent Peiss.
With clenched fists, he declared, "I'll enlist with the Material Magick Bureau under the condition that it provides me with everything needed to achieve the Second Metamorphosis within two years."
Agent Peiss, somewhat perplexed, ran his fingers through his hair. "Who can assure such a timeline? Perhaps David mentioned a specific individual? While some might, I'm not aware of anyone within the Bureau who can make such promises. Let me provide you with insight into the Material Magick Bureau, Mr. Mir. This will give you a glimpse of the future that awaits you within our ranks. As the name suggests, the Bureau operates as a clandestine organization responsible for managing all things related to Magick that could disrupt the ordinary harmony of our Material Dimension. Operating like a global secret police force, we answer to no specific country or congregation. Nevertheless, we do collaborate with national entities that possess some awareness of Magick's existence and governance."
"In the Material Dimension, the Bureau's Agents are categorized into four distinct ranks. The preliminary stage, Rank 0, included Agents progressing toward the First Metamorphosis. Subsequent tiers, namely Rank 1, Rank 2, and Rank 3, aligned with the First, Second, and Third Metamorphoses, respectively. Notably, only the Bureau could boast a consistent presence of a Third Level Metamorphosis within the Material Dimension. This unique privilege is exclusive even in comparison to the Divine and Demonic Dimensions. Essentially, being the sole possessor of such an advanced Agent, the Bureau stands unparalleled. This assurance implies that, even if you, as an Agent, fail to achieve Second Level Metamorphosis within the allocated Grace Period, your affiliation with the Bureau guaranty the most robust support within the Material Dimension."