The figure that entered the council hall was cloaked in shadow, his face hidden beneath a hood. His presence was undeniable, not from overwhelming power, but from the weight of authority he carried with him. His armor, blackened and covered with intricate symbols, seemed to hum faintly with power. Aelric could only see the faint outline of the inquisitor’s face beneath the hood, but not his eyes. They were hidden in darkness, making the man’s expression unreadable, like a shadow cast by the flickering torches on the walls.

The sword at the inquisitor’s side was large, its hilt gleaming with the same markings as the armor, and as he stepped forward, the air seemed to thicken. He moved with the grace of a warrior, his steps purposeful, his entire form radiating a sense of calm control. Though Aelric couldn’t see the man’s face, he could feel the weight of his presence—a threat, dangerous but contained.

The head councilman straightened, his voice almost shaky as he spoke. “Inquisitor, we thank you for coming. We seek the truth today, to determine if this man, Aelric, is what some have claimed—a devil.”

The inquisitor remained silent for a moment, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold and sharp, like a blade drawn across stone. “Truth is found in what the body reveals,” he said quietly. “We will see if this one is a devil, a user of magic, or merely another man.”

Aelric’s heart raced as the inquisitor approached him, his movements slow, deliberate. The sword gleamed faintly in the dim light of the hall, and the weight of the moment pressed down on him. He could feel his magic stirring beneath the surface, suppressed by the ring, but the presence of the inquisitor’s armor filled him with dread. It wasn’t the man himself that Aelric feared—it was the sheer power he seemed to command.

The inquisitor stood before Aelric, his hood still concealing his face. “Magic leaves marks,” he said, his voice low. “It scars the body in ways men cannot hide.”

With a swift, almost casual movement, he drew his sword from its scabbard. The blade gleamed with a cold light, its edge sharp and unforgiving. The council members watched in tense silence, their eyes fixed on the weapon.

“You will be tested,” the inquisitor said flatly. “To see if you are what they say you are—a devil.”

Before Aelric could respond, the inquisitor raised the sword and slashed it across Aelric’s arm, the cut shallow but painful. Aelric winced, feeling the warmth of his blood trickling down his skin. His magic stirred, desperate to heal the wound, but the ring on his finger held it back, keeping him hidden, concealed.

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The inquisitor watched closely, his movements slow and methodical as he observed the wound. The tension in the room grew thick, the council members holding their breath, waiting for some sign of magic.

After a long moment, the inquisitor stepped back. “There is no magic here,” he said calmly. “He bleeds like any other man.”

A wave of relief washed over Aelric, though his arm still throbbed with pain. The cut was shallow, but it was a reminder of how close he had come to being exposed.

Calder, standing at the back of the hall, erupted in frustration, his face twisted with anger. “No magic? That’s impossible!” he shouted. “He was beaten bloody! He should have bruises—injuries! But look at him now! This test means nothing!”

The inquisitor turned slowly toward Calder, his hood casting deep shadows over his face. “The test reveals what is hidden,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “There is no magic here. He is not a devil.”

Calder’s face contorted with rage, his hands shaking as he stepped forward. “You’re wrong!” he spat. “You’re not thorough enough! He’s hiding something, I know it!”

Without warning, the inquisitor raised his sword again, this time with deadly precision. The blade flashed through the air, and Calder barely had time to react before the edge of the sword caught his arm, cutting deep into the flesh. Blood splattered across the stone floor, and Calder let out a scream of pain, stumbling back as his arm hung limp at his side.

The council members gasped in shock, their eyes wide as Calder collapsed to his knees, clutching his ruined arm. The inquisitor stood over him, his sword dripping with blood, his movements calm and measured.

“Speak out of turn again,” the inquisitor said quietly, “and you will lose more than just your arm.”

Calder’s screams echoed through the hall as the guards rushed forward, dragging him out of the room. His cries of pain faded into the distance, leaving a heavy silence behind.

The inquisitor turned back to Aelric, his sword still gleaming with blood. “You are free to go,” he said. “The test has proven that you are not a devil.”

The head councilman, visibly shaken by the display, nodded quickly. “Yes, Aelric, you are free to leave.”

Aelric stood there, stunned. He had passed the test, but the room still felt heavy with unease. The inquisitor’s presence had left a mark on everyone, a reminder of the power that the church’s knights wielded. Aelric could still feel the weight of the inquisitor’s gaze, even as the man sheathed his sword and turned to leave.

But as Aelric’s eyes moved to the bloodstains on the floor where Calder had stood, he knew this was far from over. Calder’s hatred hadn’t been extinguished—it had only grown stronger. Even maimed, Calder would come after him again. He wouldn’t stop until Aelric was dead or exposed.

The inquisitor’s steps echoed through the hall as he walked toward the exit, his presence lingering like a shadow over the room. The council members sat in stunned silence, their eyes avoiding Aelric’s as he made his way toward the door.