Chapter 29: His Broken Heart

The room smelled like stale dampness, old piss, and rust.

Raziel was sitting in front of a splintered wooden table, feeling the cold of the cuffs biting his wrists.

But what really worried him was Lucian, who was next to him trembling like a leaf and looked like he was about to puke or confess sins he hadn’t even committed.

The iron door opened with a horrible screech. The Inquisitor walked in, followed by two guards who looked like walking closets.

The air turned to lead.

The man in black sat across from them with a terrifying calm and placed a thick book on the table with a thud that made Lucian jump in his chair.

“Novice Raziel,” the Inquisitor said in that voice that promised pain. “Let’s skip the part where you lie to me and I pull out your fingernails, sound good?”

Raziel swallowed because he knew it wasn’t an empty threat, so he decided to play his riskiest card: the stupid, hormonal teenager.

“I already told you what happened, Your Excellency,” Raziel answered, keeping his voice trembling but firm. “We got lost. It was an accident.”

The Inquisitor let out a bored sigh and opened the book, pointing to a page full of necromancy diagrams that looked like a madman’s scribbles.

“My men found traces of high-level magic in that crypt, a magic that smells like death and something older, something two useless novices shouldn’t be able to summon,” the Inquisitor leaned forward, his eyes like two black pits.

“But there were also witnesses who saw a golden light. Holy fire. And you were in the middle of it.”

Raziel felt his heart hammering against his ribs because he knew if he mentioned the System or the Echos, they’d burn him at the stake before dawn, but he had to say something fast because the guard behind Lucian was already pulling out a tool that looked like a very nasty pair of pliers.

“It wasn’t Lucian’s fault!” Raziel suddenly yelled, making everyone look at him. “He didn’t know anything! Let him go and I’ll tell you!”

Lucian stared at him with wide eyes.

“Raziel? What are you talking about?”

“Get him out of here,” the Inquisitor ordered without taking his eyes off Raziel.

The guards grabbed Lucian and dragged him to the door while the boy was kicking and screaming Raziel’s name, but when the door slammed shut, the silence left behind was suffocating.

“Good,” the Inquisitor said, lacing his fingers together. “Your friend is safe for now. Talk.”

Raziel lowered his head. He let his shoulders slump.

“It was because of her,” Raziel whispered, making sure to sound pathetic. “Seraphina.”

The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow.

“Baron Blackwood’s daughter? What does she have to do with this?”

“I… I followed her,” Raziel lied, mixing truths with lies so the story would hold up.

“I was obsessed with her, okay? I saw her go down to the crypt and I got jealous because I thought she was meeting someone else, so I convinced Lucian to go down.”

Raziel took a dramatic pause, rubbing his cuffed hands as if he were reliving a shameful trauma.

“When I saw her there… doing those… dark things… I felt so much rage and fear that something inside me just snapped. I don’t know how to explain it, Your Excellency, but I felt this heat in my chest, and then everything just exploded.”

The Inquisitor looked at him skeptically, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Are you telling me that this whole mess, the desecration of a royal tomb and the use of forbidden magic, was because of a teenage jealousy fit?”

“I didn’t know I had magic,” Raziel quickly said.

“I could never even light a candle in class, but down there… it was like the fear awakened it.”

To sell the lie, Raziel focused on the small mana core he’d managed to gather thanks to the Echo he absorbed and, with a huge mental effort, he made a small, weak, and trembling flame dance on the tip of his index finger.

The Inquisitor stopped drumming his fingers and stared at the flame.

It wasn’t divine magic or necromancy, it was basic elemental fire, raw and unrefined, just the kind of thing a talented but untrained novice might manifest under emotional stress.

The Inquisitor leaned back in his chair and, to Raziel’s surprise, he let out a short, dry laugh.

“A late Awakening triggered by a broken heart,” the man said, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe the stupidity of the situation. “You’re a Fire Elementalist, kid. A rare talent, though wasted on a sentimental idiot.”

In that instant, the air in front of Raziel’s eyes flickered. A pale blue text, invisible to the Inquisitor, floated above the torture table.

[INTERACTION EVALUATION]

[Tactic: Pathetic Deception ] ➔ [CRITICAL SUCCESS]

[Analysis:] Subject [Inquisitor Varrick] has accepted the false narrative. Suspicion of “Heresy” has been replaced with “Contempt”.

[SOCIAL STATUS UPDATE]

Previous: Noble Trash (Disposable).

New: Combat Mage (Military Asset / Cannon Fodder).

System Note: Congratulations. You’ve avoided the pyre in exchange for dying on the front lines.

Raziel read the message without moving a muscle in his face, swallowing the System’s sarcasm. He put out the flame and lowered his head, faking shame.

“Please, don’t tell anyone about Seraphina…”

“I don’t give a fuck about your secret love affair,” the Inquisitor cut him off with contempt, standing up. “But the Church always needs combat mages. If you have fire in your veins, I assure you, we’ll squeeze it out of you to use against heretics, whether you like it or not.”

The man gestured to the door, and it opened again.

“Get out,” the Inquisitor said. “And tell your friend that if you two go near that crypt again, I’ll hang you from the walls by your thumbs. Oh, and Raziel…”

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