The Conference Hall at the headquarters of the Apostles of Mr. Fool looked… different.
The furniture was gone, and most of the lights, already few and far between, were gone too.
Only one source of light remained, shining directly on the center of the hall.
There, bound to a pole, was a man, his mouth gagged tightly with a piece of cloth.
He was squirming, twisting, and growling like a maniac, tears and urine running down his cheeks and thighs, staining the floor beneath him.
Watching this sight on a video screen, Melissa squeezed her eyes shut.
"… Is there no other way?" she asked, looking to her left.
Nyx was perched there, her eyes closed.
"A price must be paid for what fate bestows upon us," Apostle Raven said. "Do you know these words?"
Melissa nodded.
All the Apostles knew these words by heart.
Apostles Trick*Step and Iron Mentor had paid the price by abandoning any chance of returning to their ordinary lives, gaining the opportunity to continue fighting as Beyonders in return.
She, Apostle Shield, had paid the price by abandoning any remote chance of living a normal life with her father. In return, fate had granted her a chance to protect him from the Villains, and… do much more if she wanted to, instead of remaining on the sidelines as a helpless, Quirkless girl.
Each of the Apostles, including their Leader—Dr. Blessed—had paid a price to alter their fate, going so far as to defy it.
"You know the words," Raven said, opening her eyes. "Then why do you ask?"
"This is not the same…" Melissa tried in vain to argue.
Even if she didn't like what was happening, deep down she understood Nyx's meaning; she understood that this was not just another price, but the continuation of the one she had already paid.
As long as she continued to benefit from being a Beyonder, she would have to pay that price.
It was as simple as that.
Melissa didn't want to admit it, though.
Fortunately, before she could hear that from Nyx, footsteps echoed across the video feed.
Unfortunately, before she could make her peace with it, those footsteps resolved into a figure.
Bounty Hunter—Gehrman Sparrow—an Apostle of Mr. Fool!
And even before Melissa could look away, he pointed a gun toward the death-row criminal Dr. Blessed had stolen from a prison facility and fired.
…
Bang!
The bullet drilled through the criminal's head, blood splattering in all directions.
With a violent jerk, the man's head slumped to the side, blood pooling on the floor.
[Hurry.]
Gehrman Sparrow put away the gun.
Then, methodically, he began setting up a ritual to pray to Mr. Fool.
When everything was in place, and he had drawn the pupilless eye on parchment and had lit the candle, he stepped up to the corpse.
Gehrman reached for the criminal's neck and snatched away a necklace with a ring dangling from it.
Burning the cord with a snap of his fingers, he took the bloodstained ring to the ritual table and placed it directly in front of the candle.
[The idea is not to make you capable of creating an Ancient Wraith,] Miss Justice explained in Gehrman's mind as he prayed to Mr. Fool. [It is to make you create Ancient Wraiths repeatedly. An Ancient Wraith is not merely a form of Spirit Body, but of a Soul, which itself consists of several layers: the Spirit Body, Astral Projection, Body of Heart and Mind, and Ether Body. Or that is how it is in Mr. Fool's World.
[It could be different in yours. Even if it were the same, it's debatable whether any Quirk originating from Bioalchemy could manipulate it directly. Perhaps, Blessed Gone Insane… but too risky and not a viable option in the long term.
[That's where Mr. Fool can help you. Even if it's extremely difficult for Him to manipulate the soul of a deceased person here through the narrow channel that opens when you pray to Him, He can use something else to anchor the soul in place before it completely dissipates. And He has already confirmed such an anchor after hearing you mention them repeatedly. Vestiges!]
Just as Gehrman finished praying to Mr. Fool, the flame on the candle suddenly flared.
A gray fog flooded his vision, with the silhouette of a majestic, shadowy figure manifesting like a god beyond it.
There was a pause.
Gehrman adjusted his glasses, feeling as though Mr. Fool were observing him… sizing him up.
Then, before he could make sense of it, a profound change occurred.
From the gray fog, a titanic, black-robed Angel descended, bearing six pairs of white wings on its back and wielding a scythe in its hands.
Before Gehrman could even react, the Angel descended upon him, overlapping with his figure.
And instantly, he lost control of his body.
Gehrman raised his hand toward the dead villain and made a grasping motion.
With a bloodcurdling shriek, a jet-black figure came tearing out of the corpse, bearing no resemblance to the man who had died.
Its face was contorted.
Its features were inhuman and repulsive.
Its entire presence was so corrupted that merely looking at it induced nausea.
[That's why we needed a… bastard like this one,] Miss Justice uncharacteristically cursed at the dead villain. [With the sheer number and heinous nature of his crimes, it is far easier to push his Soul into becoming a Wraith.]
With a sharp pull of his hand, Gehrman tore the foul entity completely out of the corpse.
And the moment the Ancient Wraith fully materialized, it lunged for the object its living self had carried for decades.
[Not yet…] Miss Justice hummed.
The Ancient Wraith hissed toward the ring and made a grabbing motion, the tips of its clawed fingers brushing against the object.
[Now!]
Gehrman twisted his hand, which was still loosely grabbing the Ancient Wraith, and squeezed.
This time, the Ancient Wraith's shriek echoed across the headquarters before dying out for good, leaving behind the ring… a cursed ring.
The most difficult of the ingredients—the Cursed Artifact of an Ancient Wraith!