15 Proposal

The white-haired man stared at the Deacon. His scarlet eyes examined Deacon Frantz's appearance, as he had done since the first day they met. 

Deacon Frantz was already in his forties. He had pale blonde hair, the strands slightly disheveled. His yellow eyes glinted beneath the heavy eyelids that bore dark circles from lack of sleep and overwork. A scruffy and not-quite-shaven beard framed his angular jawline, it added an uneven stubble and rugged edge to his worn appearance.

"You look tired," The white-haired man said, his eyes still staring intently at Deacon Frantz's face, "Should you be sleeping already at this hour?"

"I'll sleep when it's necessary." Deacon Frantz simply stated, casually sitting on the chair and facing the man.

"It is necessary to sleep." Immediately the man replied.

"Enough of that," Frantz dismissed, "I have more important things to discuss with you."

"I'll consider listening to your discussion only if you go to your room now and get some rest." Said the man and sat on the floor with crossed legs, the chain, long enough for him to move, rattled. "You can come back here if you're restedwell. I can't listen to someone whose mental state isn't right due to lack of sleep, who knows you might start discussing something you might regret after."

Deacon Frantz was unable to reply for a moment and stared at the man he called Atticus.

"The safety of the people is at stake here." Frantz declared, looking at the man without much emotion in his eyes. "You devil won't trick me into playing your games. Your followers have gone creating their own religion under your name and have killed innocent people in the process."

The white-haired man in front of him had been captured more than 10 years ago when Deacon Frantz and the other small members of Sanction made an operation to seek out heretics. It was unexpected, but they somehow managed to capture him without any casualties on their team nor did the man put up a fight.

"Atticus, those heretics are doing bad things in your name."

Although they hadn't figured out what exactly he was, the church was certain he was not human. Leading a group of occultists and doing horrible things in his name, surely a normal person was not capable of doing such things.

Or perhaps, the man in front of him was sick in the head, capable of killing people just for the sake of it?

The white-haired man shrugged, not denying nor admitting what the Deacon had said.

"The classified elite members of Sanction successfully gathered intel about a specific cult and worshipping an entity under your name." Deacon Frantz reached for his pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper before throwing it in front of the white-haired man.

It landed in front of the man, who casually reached for it, the chains encasing him rattling as he moved.

Upon folding the small, yellowish paper open, it contained a written phrase.

"What's this?" he asked confused, his forehead wrinkling as he threw Deacon Frantz a questioning look.

"A chant… or a prayer. We don't know yet, but based on what's written and the meaning, it is more likely a chant."replied the Deacon, intently watching the man's reaction.

The white-haired man looked down and read the phrase;

"Evil God of the Universe, You are in every space and time. Present in every dimension of reality and govern the darkness of our world.

Oh, almighty Atticus! Hear our plea and grant us your presence tonight, awaken my Lord!"

"What does it have to do with me?" he asked again, this time with a hint of nonchalance in his voice.

Deacon Frantz stood up and strode towards the man.

"I'd like to propose something to you," he said, his voice carrying an authoritative that left the man silent and watched his figure approach him.

"Until the higher-ups know what to do with you, I need you to help me seek out your followers. In exchange, I can guarantee that while you give us your assistance, you will live as a normal citizen and be free from this prison."

Deacon stopped in front of the white-haired man, his figure towering over the man. His yellow eyes looked down coldly at the scarlet red eyes of the man, "What do you say?"

Sitting with crossed legs on the cold floor, the white-haired man gazed up and met the Deacon's cold and reserved gaze. After a moment, a smirk graced his face.

"That is certainly a tempting offer. Are you not afraid I might take the chance to escape?"

Frantz, still staring down at him intently, watched his scarlet red eyes flicker in amusement.

"You've been here for over 10 years and never once did you attempt to escape. I don't know what you are but I know what you are capable of. Either you are waiting for something to happen or simply just wanted to remain here, I think it'ssafe to assume you need something from us."

Hearing his explanation, the man couldn't help but laugh in amusement. His laughter echoed in the small room of his prison. The Deacon was slightly surprised but didn't say anything.

"That's right, I do need something but not from the church," he said after a moment of laughter.

Suddenly, he stood up, and to Deacon Frantz's surprise, the chains binding him began to loosen. With a sharp rattle, they fell to the floor, freeing the man's wrists and ankles.

Although surprised, the Deacon didn't budge on his feet. He knew from the start that the man in front of him was not a mere human. He wholly believed that he was evil lurking in the human realm to plot chaos and havoc among humans.

"I've been waiting for you to ask for my help. Does it frustrate you how the church simply doesn't care about any of this?" he asked the Deacon, massaging his wrist, "I'll accept, on one condition."

Deacon Frantz didn't reply, ruminating on his action if this was the right decision.

"What is it?" he finally asked, forgetting his worries.

The man was right. If the church put more attention and enough work on how to get rid of heretics and other people who practice dark magic, the man in front of him should have been taken care of.

The man's smirk widened. He stepped closer to Deacon, his feet slowly floating from the ground until his body arched forward, smiling towards Frantz whose eyes were surprised and a little scared to see him floating in front of him.

"I will only work for you. That's my condition."

The white-haired man chuckled when Deacon Frantz stepped back. He drifted closer to him and held him on his chin, tilting his head so he could see him in the eyes.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. Accept my condition, and I'll help and serve you with all my heart for as long as you need me," he said, his scarlet eyes gazing at the Deacon's yellow and tired eyes.

Deacon Frantz gazed back at him for a second before he pushed away his hand, "There's no need to go to such an extent. Rest assured, this is only temporary."

The man chuckled and floated slowly back to the floor, his bare feet touching the cold floor. Deacon Frantz followed his every movement, although his face bore a reserved expression, he couldn't deny his slight admiration of how graceful the man looked in his movement.