Just as Claire’s suspicions began to settle, glowing arcane markings slowly surfaced across the back of Melinda May’s right hand.
Ordinarily, that alone should have cleared up any misunderstandings.
Instead, Claire’s eyes widened.
"...A Command Seal?!"
She looked back and forth between the bewildered Melinda and the increasingly horrified Evenson.
"...Master?"
"...Servant?"
Evenson’s face twitched.
"...It’s magical jargon. Just... ignore her."
He had not expected this.
Claire had apparently fallen so deep into anime culture there was no coming back.
Melinda lowered her hand and looked at Evenson.
"She was speaking English. I understood it."
She frowned.
"What does that mean? Are we about to enter some kind of master-servant relationship?"
Old stories about wizards magically enslaving people flashed through her mind.
She hesitated.
Then, to Evenson’s astonishment, she extended her hand again.
"...If that’s the price..."
"...I’ll accept it."
Ever since Phil Coulson’s death, she’d been trapped in an endless cycle of regret.
She blamed herself.
If she had overcome the psychological scars left by Bahrain sooner...
If she had accepted supernatural power from Evenson earlier...
Then perhaps she could have saved Coulson.
That belief had tormented her ever since New York.
Now she knew Coulson could be brought back.
Hope had returned.
She needed power as quickly as possible.
If becoming magically bound to Evenson was the cost...
She would pay it.
Besides, based on everything she’d seen, Evenson would never use that power against S.H.I.E.L.D.
So what was there to fear?
Evenson waved dismissively.
"Relax."
"Forcing someone into servitude is a pathetic way to use magic."
"I don’t do that."
Melinda blinked.
"Then what is this?"
She raised the glowing mark on the back of her hand.
"It’s an equal magical contract."
Evenson sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"As for the ’Command Seal’ thing..."
He pulled over his laptop.
"...this will explain everything."
A familiar opening theme immediately began playing.
Claire’s eyes lit up.
"...Wait!"
"Has the new episode finally been released?"
She hurried over and crouched in front of the screen.
"I’ve been so busy lately I completely forgot to keep up."
A minute later she groaned.
"They’re still only releasing one episode a week."
"So consistent."
"So painfully slow."
"Compared to those web novels that update daily, this is torture..."
Melinda stared at her.
Then at the screen.
Then back at Claire.
"I think..."
"...I understand now."
She rubbed her temples.
"I never imagined mysterious Sorcerers would be anime fans."
Claire never even looked away from the laptop.
"Please."
"It’s the twenty-first century."
"Sorcerers keep up with the times."
"The Sorcerer Supreme installed Wi-Fi throughout Kamar-Taj."
"Is watching anime really that strange?"
Melinda opened her mouth.
Closed it again.
...She couldn’t actually argue with that.
She glanced toward Evenson.
They really are perfect for each other.
A Warlock who sells counterfeit magical merchandise...
And a Sorcerer hopelessly addicted to anime.
Fate certainly has a sense of humor.
Evenson noticed her expression.
"What?"
"We’re perfectly normal."
"There are Liches out there who become obsessive cat owners."
"Our hobbies are practically wholesome."
"...Fine."
"I’ll admit I was the narrow-minded one."
May pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Can we please get this over with?"
"I’ve waited long enough."
Evenson nodded.
"Come with me."
He turned toward the back of the shop.
"Wait."
May suddenly stopped him.
He turned around.
"...Now what?"
"You were the one in a hurry."
She coughed awkwardly.
"This is... kind of an important moment."
"Could you..."
"...clean yourself up first?"
"At least get rid of the hoofprint on your face."
"Have some dignity."
Evenson paused.
Dignity?
I’m just grateful I survived today.
Still, he crushed a Healthstone in his palm.
Warm fel magic flowed through his body.
The scratches vanished.
The bruises faded.
The hoofprint disappeared.
Then he peeled off the shredded remains of his clothing and slipped on his Corruptor’s Robe.
"There."
"Better?"
May nodded approvingly.
Much.
Together they descended into the basement.
Claire hesitated only briefly before sighing, pausing her anime, and following after them.
The basement turned out to be...
ordinary.
Boxes.
Old furniture.
Miscellaneous junk.
The only unusual feature was a demonic ritual circle painted neatly into one corner.
Claire looked around with visible disappointment.
"I honestly expected shelves full of jars containing things preserved in formaldehyde."
"My seniors always talked about how disgusting Black Warlock lairs were."
"I’ve never actually seen one before."
"I was hoping for something memorable."
Evenson shrugged.
"Please don’t compare me with amateurs."
He rummaged through a pile of clutter.
After a moment, he triumphantly returned...
...carrying a pressure cooker.
Then he fetched a large bottle of purified water and poured it inside.
"There."
"That should do."
He nodded in satisfaction while holding a disposable paper cup.
Melinda stared.
"...Should do?"
"What exactly is ’should do’?"
"The preparations."
Evenson’s answer hit her like a physical blow.
She instinctively clutched her chest.
"...You’re casting magic..."
"...with a pressure cooker?"
He waved dismissively.
"Details."
"The pressure cooker is just a container."
"The spell is what matters."
She looked utterly unconvinced.
"Couldn’t you use something a little more..."
"...ceremonial?"
"This is one of the most important moments of my life."
Evenson spread his hands helplessly.
"If you’d brought a golden basin, I’d happily have used it."
"But this pressure cooker happens to be the most expensive container I own."
As he spoke, he placed one hand atop the cooker.
Green fel mist slowly flowed from his palm, sinking into the water.
Within seconds...
The clear water transformed into a pale green liquid.
It looked disturbingly similar to vegetable soup.
Satisfied, Evenson stepped back.
He leaned heavily on his staff, deliberately hunching until only his head rose above the rim of the cooker.
Then he slowly dipped the paper cup into the glowing liquid.
Holding it out toward Melinda with all the solemnity of an ancient prophet, he rasped,
"Drink, Melinda."
"This..."
"...is your destiny."
...
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