Lancelot simply nodded, having long thought of this possibility.
If they let someone become a monster in a densely populated city like Neruda, who knows how many people would die?
Fortunately, when he was organising his thoughts, joining Eric's organisation was his number 1 priority! This organisation being a highly influential one such as the Church was a major boon!
"I'll go with the first option." He answered with a smile.
Eric's face lit up with joy, hastily standing and approaching Lancelot to give him a hug.
"That's amazing! You're gonna love it here!" He exclaimed.
"No hugs! No hugs!" Lancelot exclaimed as he scampered out his seat and quickly ran away.
He had developed a phobia of hugs because of this young man!
"Withdraw, Eric." Wilhelm commanded, massaging his temples.
"Ok, Head Priest.." Eric gloomily muttered, retreating next to Father Wilhelm's side.
"There's information I kept from you. Afterall, we can't let an outsider know in-depth knowledge of mysticism." Father Wilhelm revealed, smiling. "Those with powers are called Magi, with Magus being the singular. Their abilities are called Emblems. A Magus' spirituality evolves as they advance through the Stages. They go from 1 to 7, with one being the weakest.
In the Church, they are classified as:
Stage 1: Believer
Stage 2: Priest
Stage 3: High Priest
Stage 4: Bishop
Stage 5: Archbishop
Stage 6: Cardinal
Stage 7: Pope.
Eric has recently advanced to Stage 2, Priest. His previous Emblem of 'Harden' evolved into 'Reinforce'.
Eric's expression brightened up, feeling proud.
High Priest Wilhelm's smile grew as he added, "You can guess what Stage I am."
Lancelot nodded.
"How does one advance?" He questioned.
"I'll tell you after your spirituality is awakened." Wilhelm replied, smile growing into a grin
Lancelot looked at him with a deadpan expression.
'Suddenly, I feel like changing my mind... What are my odds at escaping?' He lampooned inwardly.
Sighing, Lancelot asked "Can we do it now? I'm ready."
"Are you sure? More than 95% percent of people mutate. You shouldn't rush this." Father Wilhelm stressed in a concerned tone.
"It's fine, I'm confident I can handle it." Lancelot answered.
They all stood up, Wilhelm held the staff and pressed it's golden end onto Lancelot's forehead.
"You will be overwhelmed by your spirituality. Your goal is to release it until the surplus is gone. After that, you'll find yourself already knowing how to use your abilities." He said.
Lancelot nodded.
"Last chance to back out, you still have a few weeks before the seal breaks." Wilhelm warned.
"Do it." Lancelot answered succinctly, closing his eyes
Preparations were unnecessary for now, he fully believed that his drive for revenge would anchor him.
"May the blessings of God be upon you." Wilhelm piously said.
Spirituality flowed into the air, the whole room feeling mystical as Wilhelm exclaimed
"Release!"
Lancelot could feel the magical energy fill his brain, he could feel the seal placed upon him break, a familiar warmth spreading through his body like water gushing from a broken dam. He felt every piece of himself become charged with an indescribable feeling.
His vision blurred before it re-focused. He found himself standing in the Orphanage, blood and innards decorating the living room. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the sight of the corpses of his fallen brethren once again.
Miss Orca's caved in skull, Arthur's mangled neck, Kyrie's dismembered body.and countless other corpses surrounded him.
Lancelot closed his eyes.
This hellish sight didn't push him closer to the abyss, making him lose himself in anger, hatred and disgust.
Instead, it anchored him, helping him bind himself onto one desire:
Revenge.
Father Wilhelm watched solemnly as Lancelot stood perfectly still. He could feel the overflowing spirituality contained within Lancelot fluctuate widely.
He closed his eyes and devoutly started praying.
Eric mimicked him.
Lancelot felt himself return back to the basement, he focused all his might, all his willpower on carefully severing a part of his spirituality and releasing it.
Slowly, he released tiny amounts of spirituality from within him. After a few minutes, he was completely finished, an adequate amount of spiritually was now peacefully flowing within him.
Opening his eyes, he felt unbearably hot. Steam wafted out of his skin as lent onto a table for support.
"Congratulations." Wilhelm's voice resounded through the basement, smiling once more.
"Congrats!" Eric parroted, voice full of joy.
The bulging veins on the surface of Lancelot's skin receded as he sat down on a chair, his skin slick with sweat. Even though he was physically and mentally exhausted, he couldn't help but grin.
"I did it.." He panted.
He was now one step closer to his goal of revenge!
"So, what's your Emblem?" Eric asked, curious.
He wanted to hug Lancelot, but he felt that he wouldn't appreciate it in his current condition.
After Lancelot regained his breath, he paused momentarily before saying
"My power does two things. The first is 'Combining' things together."
He grabbed the wooden bowl from which he ate stew and then pressed a finger against the wax of a burning candle. The two items glowed and turned illusionary before coalescing. The result was a small wooden sphere.
"There is a limit on the weight and height of the objects I can combine, but I can control the results to an extent."
He injected some of his spirituality into the wooden sphere, the ball lit up in flames, turning into a mock fireball. The flames wisped and lashed at the air around it, however, Lancelot's hand was seemingly unaffected by the flames.
"The wooden sphere comes from the bowl, whilst the igniting comes from the candle." He explained.
"The second ability is 'Sever'. If used on 'Combined' objects, it restores them to it's original state."
The spirituality in the wooden sphere had long ran out, extinguishing the flame. Soon, the wooden sphere glowed as two illusionary objects flew out, turning into the previous wooden bowl and a candle with it's wax noticeably smaller.
"If used on a normal object, it separates something from the object. It can't be used on organic matter, and I cannot control what is separated, nor how it is separated."
He grabbed the wooden bowl again, the bowl glowed before it quickly receded, allowing for Eric and Wilhelm to see that it had been 'cut' perfectly in two.
"....A unique ability. Although it doesn't provide direct combat power, it's flexibility and potential is considerable. You'll be a valuable member to the team." Wilhelm thought for a moment before praising.
'Team? Shouldn't he say 'Church'?' Lancelot thought.
"That's so cool!" Eric exclaimed. "We should try it out on all kinds of things!"
Eric rushed out the room, intent on collecting various things they could test Lancelot's power on.
Sighing, Wilhelm turned to Lancelot. "Oh, right. I forgot to mention to you.
You'll be working with a team that investigates paranormal activity in various cities and towns."
'A team? Does the Church have a kingdom-wide supernatural militia set up?' Lancelot thought.
Lancelot nodded tersely before asking "When the Church found me, did they find the perpetrator behind the attack on the Orphanage?"
It was obvious why Lancelot had asked this question.
Wilhelm shook his head before saying "No, though the way the corpses were spread out suggests that it was a ritual of some kind. According to the data we've gathered so far, the prime suspect is a man last seen in a hooded robe with a single red-coloured eye."
Lancelot looked deep in thought before slowly nodding.
In an unknown location.
A hooded man walked briskly into an alleyway, his singular eye darting side to side as he extended a hand towards the floor.
Slowly, the dirt opened up and gave way to a fleet of stone steps with countless torches attached to the sides. As descended down them, the dirt covered the entrance.
The alleyway was empty as nobody noticed this supernatural incident.
At the bottom of the stairs was seemingly endless a corridor. On the sides of this corridor was numerous doors.
The man hastily continued down the corridor, reaching the end of it. Infront of him stood a pitch-black door, the door itself seemed to give off a horrible, disgusting feeling. It felt as thought it represented the deepest and darkest desires of humanity.
With a solemn expression, the man grasped the golden doorknob and twisted, opening the door.
Inside was an unnaturally dark room. He entered, closing the door behind him.
In the center of the room was a blood red altar. Portraits of various children were placed on it, a bloody limb or vial of blood accompanying said portraits.
Piously, the man pressed his forehead onto the floor. Tears streamed out of his singular eye, producing a small puddle on the floor as he apologised repeatedly in a sincere tone.
In the middle of the altar was a portrait. Uniquely, it was missing the corresponding limb or vial of blood.
It was of a 16 year old boy.
He had dark-blue, ear-length hair accompanied by cobalt eyes.
His lips were curled into a carefree smile.
This was a portrait of Lancelot.