Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

"That’s a lot of ground to cover. And you’ve certainly got plenty of questions."

Perhaps knowing he was already dead had freed him from his inhibitions. Whatever the reason, the monk leader seemed remarkably relaxed despite having his soul bound by Evenson.

"I know the answers to all of them. But why should I tell you? What can you offer me in return?"

Evenson raised an eyebrow.

Apparently even conversations with the dead came with a price tag.

"Are you seriously trying to negotiate with me?"

"Of course."

The monk leader didn’t even bother hiding the defiance in his voice.

"Your questions can only be answered by me. Not the Pope of the Roman Catholic Church. Not the ancient records they’ve preserved. Not even the Dead Sea Scrolls, which are supposedly capable of revealing every truth. None of them can answer what you want to know."

A smug smile spread across his translucent face.

"Out in the world, I believe this phenomenon is called a monopoly."

"Hm."

Evenson gave a cold laugh.

"A monopoly only works if you have the power to protect what you monopolize."

He flicked a finger.

A violet orb, roughly the size of a pigeon egg, shot into the monk’s spectral body.

"And you seem to have forgotten something."

Evenson’s eyes hardened.

"You’re not exactly in a position to refuse me."

Soul torture was one of a Warlock’s specialties.

Evenson had studied the theory extensively.

Putting it into practice, however, was another matter.

This was his first real opportunity to experiment.

The moment the violet orb entered the monk’s soul, the man’s body convulsed violently. He dropped to his knees, trembling as though every fiber of his being were being torn apart.

Yet he refused to scream.

That surprised Evenson.

He hadn’t expected the man to have quite that much backbone.

Slowly, the monk raised his head. His lips twitched as he forced out the words.

"My position? My fate?"

He gave a strained laugh.

"I understand both perfectly well. But tell me... could there possibly be a worse fate for me than the one I’m already facing?"

"What?"

Evenson frowned and immediately withdrew the spell.

He hadn’t expected that answer.

"You want to talk about my true master?"

The monk took several deep breaths out of sheer habit, despite no longer possessing lungs that needed air.

"Since you asked that question, I assume you’ve already realized my master isn’t God."

He smiled.

"I’ll answer one question for free."

The smile twisted into something almost grotesque.

"My master is Mephisto, one of the Lords of Hell."

"I figured."

Evenson shrugged.

He’d already suspected as much.

"So you think that old bastard is going to protect you? Save your soul? Come down here and drag you away from me?"

He shook his head.

"Keep dreaming."

"I’ve never been foolish enough to dream something like that."

The monk slowly forced himself back onto his feet.

"I failed the task he gave me. Once I died, my soul was always going to fall into his hands. And once it does, I’ll spend eternity being tortured in Hell."

He stepped forward.

"Can you imagine anything worse than that?"

His expression became increasingly desperate.

"Anything more miserable?"

"For me, even having my soul completely erased, reduced to nothingness, would be a hundred times better."

He stared directly at Evenson.

"So if your methods of torture aren’t worse than what he can do to me, I suggest you don’t waste your time."

"Right..."

Evenson sighed and rubbed his forehead.

This was going to be difficult.

The man had already been sentenced to an eternity of unimaginable suffering. Threatening him with death was hardly going to make him cooperate.

"Maybe I don’t need you to tell me anything."

Evenson stepped down from the table and cracked his knuckles.

"For a Warlock, souls don’t keep secrets. I can tear yours apart and sift through the pieces until I find what I need."

He smiled thinly.

"I guarantee it will be extremely unpleasant."

"Go ahead."

The monk didn’t even flinch.

"If that method were really as convenient as you claim, you wouldn’t have spent this long talking to me."

"Damn it!"

Evenson growled in frustration.

The man was completely impervious to threats.

Those were always the hardest people to deal with.

Technically, Evenson could tear the soul apart and search through its fragments for the information he wanted.

But that wasn’t exactly practical.

It was like trying to find one specific file buried somewhere in a hundred terabytes of data without a search engine.

If only I had a demon inquisitor.

Those demons were practically designed for situations like this.

Evenson sighed.

"Fine. I can give you something. But don’t get your hopes up about resurrection. That’s off the table."

The monk visibly relaxed.

"Then what can you give me?"

Evenson lit a cigarette.

He took a long drag, then slowly exhaled the smoke directly into the monk’s face.

"You’re afraid of the black gates of Hell. Your entire life has led you here, and you know your failure will be punished."

He lowered the cigarette.

"I can give you an escape."

"A delay before your final judgment."

"How long?"

The monk’s response was immediate.

The more a person understood the weight of their sins, and the more clearly they understood what awaited them in Hell, the more desperately they would cling to even the smallest chance of escape.

"One hundred years."

Evenson tapped ash from his cigarette.

"You can remain in this state, neither truly alive nor truly dead, for another century."

The monk’s eyes lit up.

Then suspicion returned.

"You’ll still be alive a hundred years from now?"

"Assuming nothing goes horribly wrong, I don’t see why not."

Evenson shrugged.

As long as I stay alive, I can keep going for as long as I need.

"So now you can tell me what I want to know?"

The monk hesitated.

"...All right."

He considered the offer carefully before accepting.

In truth, as long as he didn’t have to go to Hell, he’d probably agree to almost anything.

"What do you want to hear first?"

He looked at Evenson.

"The angels or God?"

"I saw the murals here."

Evenson’s expression grew thoughtful.

"Honestly, I’m surprised by what they say about the angels. Not because I don’t recognize them. I know they’re a foreign, pure species of being."

He paused.

"I just didn’t expect there to be any on Earth."

"So I want to know exactly how many angels there are."

"And whether God is the same kind of being."

The monk stared at him for a moment.

"You’re remarkably well informed. I never expected anyone outside our order to know what the angels truly are."

He gathered his thoughts.

"According to a secret passed down orally among the leaders of our order, there is only one angel."

"Only one?"

"Yes."

"It simply manifests in different forms, displaying different abilities. Sometimes it appears as light. Sometimes as holy fire."

He shook his head.

"Mortals who didn’t understand what they were seeing assumed there were multiple angels. Some even concluded there were ten."

"But there is only one."

Evenson nodded slowly.

One naaru.

That was probably good news.

Probably.

"What about God?"

"God is completely different from the angel."

The monk answered without hesitation.

"As the legends say, God takes human form. For countless ages, he maintained a distant relationship with this world. He rarely interfered with human affairs, and almost never deliberately spread his own glory."

"That continued until the beginning of the Common Era."

The monk’s voice became quieter.

"Then the angel arrived from the distant reaches of the universe."

"It approached God and proposed that humanity should be guided toward the light."

"God agreed?"

Evenson found the idea entirely consistent with what he’d come to expect from the naaru.

"No."

The monk shook his head.

"But he didn’t refuse, either."

"God believed mortals should be guided. However, the angel’s proposed method was too extreme."

"So he accepted only part of the plan and chose a gentler way to guide humanity."

"I wouldn’t exactly call Christianity’s methods gentle."

Evenson curled his lip.

"Maybe in the beginning. But later?"

He began counting them off.

"The Crusades. The Inquisition. The witch trials."

His expression hardened.

"Those weren’t exactly bloodless exercises in compassion."

"Besides..."

Evenson pointed at the monk.

"What about you?"

The monk said nothing.

"God and the angel supposedly decided to guide humanity. Yet the leaders of a church that has existed for centuries, a church entrusted with ancient secrets, have all ended up serving a demon."

Evenson’s eyes narrowed.

"How did they tolerate that?"

"As far as I know, that angel doesn’t exactly have much patience for evil."

"And Hell has interfered with this world more than once."

His voice sharpened.

"So where are God and the angel?"

"Why have they never stopped it?"

"Don’t tell me they think all of this is some kind of test for humanity."

The monk’s expression slowly twisted.

His teeth clenched.

When he finally spoke, the words came through gritted teeth.

"Because God and the angel are gone."

His spectral body trembled.

"They’ve been gone for a very long time."

"They abandoned this world."

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